Iced Out (Leighton U #1)(57)

“No. I was actually just thinking…I definitely want inside that ass again. For real, next time.” A pause, then, “As long as you’re okay with it.”

“Okay with it?” I echo, swapping places with him and stepping out from under the spray. I grab my towel off the hook to dry off and glance back at him, surprised to see…he’s actually questioning whether or not I want more.

My arms cross over my chest. “I was literally just begging you to fuck me, and you think I’m about to call take-backs?”

He frowns, rinsing his stomach and dick off. “Really, Quinn? Take-backs? Are we five now?”

The grin that spreads out over my face when hearing the nickname can’t be helped. It makes me feel…weirdly affectionate toward him. Even after he just insinuated I’m a fucking kindergartener.

And he must be taken aback too, because he’s staring at me like I’ve sprouted two more heads.

“Why’re you smiling like that?” He waves his hand in front of my face, and it only makes me grin more. “Jesus, did I break you or something? If just the tip did this, I hate to see what you’re like after I fuck you for real.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Trust me, I can handle it. It’s just…” My brows furrow, and I lick my lips. “You called me Quinn.”

He frowns deeper before slowly asking, “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Not to you. You only call me de Haas. Or Quinton, sometimes.”

He’s silent for a moment, then his laugh sends cool shivers running through me. “Huh, I guess you’re right. Leave it to you to ruin my orgasm high by making me think about what I call you in the moment. Maybe I’ll go with asshole next time.”

I smirk, shaking out my hair. “Quinn’s fine.”

“No, no. I’ll think of something better. Something more creative.”

“I’m serious—”

“What about dickweed? That’s a great term of endearment, right?”

I let out a sigh and repeat myself, thinking maybe he’ll hear me this time. “You can call me Quinn, okay? It’s just that no one really does.”

“You’re telling me no one shortens your name to the most obvious option? Seriously?”

I shrug as I wrap the towel around my waist. “Yeah. I’ve always been an athlete, so it’s always been de Haas. Or some of my high school friends, like Hayes, usually call me Q.”

A low chuckle comes from behind me again, followed by kiss after kiss being peppered against the top of my spine. “Good. I don’t want to call you what everyone else calls you. Takes the fun out of it.”

“Oh, so you know what fun is now?”

He grips both of my shoulders and spins me around. “Yeah, I do. Because I had a ton of it a few minutes ago.”

“So that’s fun? I thought you said it was reckless. Or was it insane?”

“I called you insane. Which you clearly are, sneaking into my shower.” He pauses for a second, a smile sliding on his face before adding, “Babe.”

I burst out laughing, letting my face fall into his shoulder. “Please, just shut up. Before I make you.”

“Mmm.” He chuckles more, curling his hand around the back of my neck. “Then maybe you should kiss me.”

I can’t stop the way my heart ratchets in my chest when he kisses me instead.





Twenty

Quinton

I saw Oakley less than an hour ago at practice, but to an addict going through withdrawals from their drug of choice, minutes have a way of feeling like a thousand years.

That’s what I am when it comes to Oakley.

Addicted, and desperately craving another fix.

The other night in the showers only cemented it into my brain, and now I’d give my left arm to have a repeat of every glorious minute.

Oakley Reed has a deeper pull on me than I realized.

And the second he knocks, I’m hit with a rush of adrenaline. To the point where I almost rip the damn door off its hinges to get to him.

“Hey,” he says, a smile on his face, hauling his bag over his shoulder.

A grin creeps onto my lips too. “Hi.”

God, am I fucking twelve?

He doesn’t even give me the chance to open the door all the way and let him in, just grabs me by the shirt and hauls me to him. His lips are on mine a second later—slow and tantalizing sweet—then they’re gone again, and he’s brushing past me into the apartment.

Ever since he kissed me the day we skated downtown, it’s felt like something’s changed with him. With the way he sees me, the way he wants to continue acting when we’re together. The way he willingly gives affection without thinking about it first.

Even when we’re on the ice, something’s just different.

Almost like he…

I try to shake the insane ideas rolling through my head. Because that’s what they are, right? Completely fucking insane.

But is it really?

He’s the one who threw the rules out; first with the kiss, and then again last week in the shower. Is it really so crazy to think things are shifting for him the way they are for me too?

He gives me a quick glance over his shoulder, that ridiculously sexy grin of his in place. “You ready to smash—”