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Tell me everything, Braxton.
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry you thought that’s what I meant. I just meant escape life, work, friends. Everyone needs an escape sometimes. Somewhere quiet where they can think without being interrupted.”
He seems to deflate almost instantly and sniffs. “Yeah, okay. That makes sense. Sorry I jumped to conclusions.”
“It’s okay,” I say and then place my hand on his thigh and squeeze. I want to reach out and pull him into a hug, but I know he won’t like that. He’d hate it, so I resist the temptation.
I have no idea why he kissed me when he doesn’t like me. It makes no sense.
Maybe he was like drunk or something. Or maybe he lost his mind momentarily.
A whole slew of reasons could explain it.
I just don’t understand it.
Might never understand it.
He shoves my hand away from him, and I settle my palm back on my own thigh. I clench it into a fist and try not to feel all sorts of ways. Like hurt. Damn it. I really want to touch him. That urge to cuddle him comes back, but I lock it down. Nope, not going there, despite wanting to. He’d probably claw my eyeballs out, and I sure do need those for my work and, you know, life.
“Thanks for showing me this place,” he says softly. His words belying his actions.
“You’re welcome.”
I lean back, my shirt lifting a bit, showing off my waist. I’m not wearing my overalls right now. Usually only wear them when I’m working because they sure are handy. Right now, I’m in a long-sleeved sweater and worn jeans. Cool air tickles my exposed skin as it drifts across my body, and I notice that Braxton’s eyes are on me. On my bare abdomen. On the trail of hair that leads right into my boxers.
I don’t think I’m much to look at, but I am strong and don’t have much fat on me. I think I could be a catch for the right person.
As I watch Braxton, I see that his body is tense, his sweatshirt sleeves pulled down over his hands. I should move, should tug my shirt down, but I don’t wanna. It doesn’t mean anything. Just a bit of skin. And I’m sure he’s seen his fair share, being a dude. He’s been in locker rooms and stuff.
I lean back a little more, kicking my feet out and sighing. I take in the view, trying like hell to ignore Braxton next to me, his body unmoving, his breathing growing labored. Maybe he’s having a heart attack. Or a panic attack.
I glance over at him, and his eyes flick up to mine. Time seems to freeze, a snap of light and air, and then he’s on me. His mouth presses against mine, his hands sliding through my hair. I fall back, confused, and so damn surprised. I can’t believe this is happening, but it is. He’s straddling me, his mouth slanted across mine, his hips arching into mine. Instinctively, my hands move up to his waist, holding him steady, holding him against me, and he groans, his fists tightening in my hair, making me gasp at the roughness of it, of the unbidden nature of it all.
What the hell is he doing and why am I not stopping him?
Seems to be a question for the cows another day, I think as the hard length of him presses against my thigh. He grinds against my leg as a free hand grabs on to my shirt, pushing it up and exposing my chest to the cold spring air.
His fingers drag up my chest, bumping over my abs and settling on my pebbled nipples.
“Oh god,” he murmurs as he peels his lips from mine. “Oh fuck.”
I just stay there, frozen in place, letting his hand trace across my pec and then down to the waistband of my jeans. My half-hard cock jumps at the image of his hand wrapping around it, and I suck in a breath to keep myself under control. I feel like he’s about to bolt at any moment, and I don’t want him to.
I sure would like to kiss him again.
And again.
I know he doesn’t like me, but I like him just fine. Especially when his lips are on mine. I really like him then.
“You are so fucking unreal,” he says as his hand tracks back up my chest. Both hands are on my chest now, rucking my shirt up until it’s settled just beneath my chin. “So fucking big.”
I let out a grumble, and his eyes flash to mine.
“I want to suck your dick. Just once and never again.”
I sputter, not expecting that. “What?”
“I just…I just want to, okay?”
