Hostile(24)

He barks out a laugh, but he managed to not sound entitled. Instead, he’s almost bashful. “Maybe.” He pushes a hand through his thick hair. “I go swimming every single day. My parents are never home, so I have the pool all to myself.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.”

He leans closer to me now, his eyes searching mine as I breathe in his scent and look into those dark-blue eyes. “Any time.” He moves closer to me. “Hey, Rhett?”

“Yeah?” I barely breathe the one word between us as I lean in, my nose grazing his.

“Can we practice the kissing part of being ‘friends who maybe kiss’ now?”

I feel a smile take over my lips as they brush over his but only briefly. “Yes.”

That’s all it takes for us to close the small gap between us, his hand going to the back of my head, pulling me into him while my right hand presses over his rapidly beating heart, not to push him away but to feel him. To feel the thump, thump, thump of his heart under my flesh and his lips against mine as our mouths meet in a heated, hungry kiss.

He presses me back, and I move willingly until his massive body is plastered against mine and his hands are in my hair. Our covered cocks are both hard and dragging over each other’s. We grind and writhe against one another.

Starving for each other.

“You’re fucking perfect, Rhett,” he breathes against my lips. I don’t have the strength to argue, to tell him how wrong he is. I only grab his ass with both hands and rut against him, chasing the high and not allowing nerves to creep in because I want this.

Whatever this is with this totally surprising guy.





SEVENTEEN





We should probably stop and maybe have a conversation about what the hell we’re doing, but I can’t seem to bring myself to do that. I’m lost in the sweet taste of Rhett. Of his soft, full lips trying to devour my mouth. Of our tongues dueling and his smaller but firm body underneath me. He’s every bit as hard as I am. And every time his cock drags over mine, a jolt shoots through my balls, the ache to come nearly overwhelming.

I kiss down over his jaw, nipping and biting and making him growl with need. Holy shit, that’s hot as hell. I brace my weight on one arm and lift the hem of his shirt until he gets the hint and helps me remove it.

My balls are physically aching for release, but I’m not about to rush seeing him like this for the first time. His pupils are blown, and his chest fills with air over and over again while he waits for my next move. He’s lean, not nearly as cut as I am, but his shoulders are well-muscled—probably from swimming—and his torso is a canvas of beautiful art.

He’s not totally covered, but his left ribcage has ink swirling over it, and both pecs are tattooed as well. I wonder if he designed the art because it all seems very Rhett. Abstract barbed wire and flames. Darkness he doesn’t realize is in reality his light.

The beacon that drew me to him.

Because Rhett is stunningly beautiful.

“Wow,” I breathe and kiss over each defined pec, brushing over the hard nipples, making his hips jolt upward.

“Grayson.” He’s just as breathless and desperate.

His fingers grip my hair as I slide down lower and lower, my cock throbbing, but I ignore it as I reach the top of his jeans and then kiss each hipbone. I flick open the button on his jeans, then look up to lock eyes with him. “This okay?”

With his immediate nod, I know he’s blissed-out because that’s very un-like him. I smile inwardly that I’m doing this to him, driving him crazy with want. I lower the zipper and push his jeans down but leave his dark boxer briefs on. He pulls me back up to him, losing his patience and kicking his jeans off as our lips meet again.

We kiss like that for what seems like forever, both of us moaning and grunting with desire and the frustration of needing more. “Have you ever done this?” I find myself asking. Why? I have no fucking idea.

He pulls back slightly to look in my eyes. “No.”

“I mean, with anyone? I know you said you weren’t ever attracted to anyone before, but . . .”

I watch helplessly as he gnaws on his bottom lip. “I haven’t. So, no. I haven’t kissed anyone or done anything.”

I still don’t entirely understand. Not that I need to label him or anything because I don’t, but I’m just . . . curious, I guess. “But you would like . . . ?” Why am I talking when my body is on top of his? “Have you ever even . . . ?” I glance down between us where his briefs are tented with the obvious erection I was grinding against moments ago, before I let my mouth start talking instead of continuing to kiss the hell out of him.

He shifts under me but doesn’t push me away. “What are you asking? I think we’re past the awkward stage, considering your hard cock is still pressed against mine.”

My hips thrust forward almost involuntarily at the reminder, and we both groan, his hands gripping my biceps, and I wonder yet again why the hell I’m talking. But there’s something more with Rhett, even if I can’t explain it. I want to know everything when it comes to him. And talking is so rare. I guess I’m taking my shot with him half-naked and pinned under me. “Have you been hard before? I mean, you said you didn’t think you were interested in sex . . .”