Jock Rule (Jock Hard #2)(45)

Everything inside me tightens and clenches and pulses and feels like heaven and, “Oh god, Kip, don’t stop, don’t stop whatever that is.”

His voice is incoherent, his face—I imagine—entirely, thoroughly buried in my…in my…in…

When spasms rack the lower half of my body, I try to back away, push his head out, but he holds me down, continuing to suck the life of the orgasm from me.

Holy shit, holy mother of all that is holy.

I’m grateful for the dark, sure my mouth is hanging wide open when my head snaps back, my back arching.

Then, with a few casual licks against my sensitive nub, and a loud kiss to the middle, Kip releases my body.

I sag.

***

“You don’t have to snuggle me now. It’s okay.”

His body wedges behind mine as soon as he crawls back up into bed after washing up, against my lifeless form, enveloping me. Hot, warm. Huge.

Kip’s dick is still hard, pressed into the apex of my thighs, but he hasn’t made any passes to remedy that, instead just letting it literally poke me in the ass.

“Maybe I want to.”

His beard tickles the blades between my shoulders, and I shiver.

“Besides,” he continues, “you’ll freeze otherwise.”

“I’m not cold.” Not after that little show he just put on for me. On me.

“Not yet, but you’re shivering.”

“Kip, that isn’t because I’m cold.”

“Oh.” He laughs into my back, mouth and mustache nuzzling the crook of my shoulder.

What the hell is going on? He’s being all affectionate and sweet and we’re spooning and now I’m confused. How did we get to this place?

I thought he hated shit like this.

I thought he didn’t want anyone getting attached to him, and if that’s the case, doing this with me is a terrible way to keep me at a distance.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the dark, at the wall I’m facing.

“Why are you sorry?” His hand moves to stroke my hip.

“This was such a bad idea.”

“No, actually, it was a really good idea.” His heavy arm wraps around my middle, hand cupping my naked breast. Thumb traces my nipple.

“You’re going to regret this in the morning.”

“I promise you, Teddy, I won’t.”

Somehow, I don’t believe him.

“But what if you want to do it all the time now, and it’s my fault you broke your vow of celibacy?”

He pauses before speaking. “I didn’t take a vow of celibacy. I just don’t want to date or screw any catty, greedy bitc—uh, girls. I think my virtue is safe with you.”

“Because I don’t fall into those categories?”

“You definitely don’t fall into those categories.” My hair gets brushed to the side, and my eyes slide closed when his beard lands on my skin as he rests his chin. “My sister thinks so too.”

What? He told his sister about me? “You told your sister about me?”

“I tell my sister everything.”

He told his sister about me?

“What did you tell her?”

Kip yawns. “Just that you’ve been coming over. She’s really protective, so…” His voice trails off, tired.

How am I going to sleep with his hot breath on my back? With his dick in my ass? With his broad chest heating my body like a damn furnace?

I’ve never slept in the same bed with a guy, never had one touch me like this before. The whole thing screams Cozy! Domestic! Coupledom!

Or maybe I’m delirious and have no idea what I’m talking about because I’m na?ve and think the best of people and have no clue what I’m doing.

Honestly, I don’t think Kip has any idea what he’s doing, either.

And that makes it easier to fall asleep.





SECOND SATURDAY (Before Game)


“The morning I lose my damn mind and do something stupid, like fall for her…”


Kip

It’s not as awkward in the kitchen with Teddy the next morning as I thought it was going to be.

I got up at the butt crack of dawn, before the sun and Teddy rose, and worked on the damn furnace for two hours. Seven YouTube videos and one service call later, the thing was up and running, warming the house to a blessed sixty-nine degrees.

Teddy is seated on a stool at the kitchen counter, blanket wrapped around her legs, clothes in place—many of them, as a matter of fact: hoodie, T-shirt peeking out of the bottom, and I’m guessing leggings covering those smooth legs.

Those legs.

I groan, remembering how it tasted between them: fucking delicious.

Groan again, remember how I’m not fucking sleeping with girls.

But if I were, Teddy Johnson would be a great place to start.

She’s adorable, blushing when I stroll into the room, dust on my jeans, black sweatshirt, and hands.

“Hey.” My voice is gravelly. Low.

“Hey.” She ducks her head, embarrassment flushing her cheeks. Teddy tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, even though she has it pulled up into a ponytail. It’s still wavy and thick.

Damn, she’s cute.

“Are you blushing?”