My eyebrow raises when Sol pulls a key fob from his pocket and unlocks the door. Although, I suppose as best friends, it would make sense they have each other’s key.
Sol steps inside and flicks on the light before tossing the sweater unceremoniously onto Zak’s desk chair. The air is thick with tension, but I pretend not to notice, instead, looking around at the ‘jock clutter’. Awards and sports gear litter the surfaces, and although it’s not the tidiest, it’s better than a lot of the dorm rooms over at Ezekiel Halls. It makes me wonder what Sol’s room is like, two floors above. I suspect it’s tidy. Nothing about Sol Brooker is messy.
When I turn back to Sol, he’s closer. A lot closer; the rise and fall of his chest visible.
“Hey,” I say, my words little more than an exhale.
He takes another step and reaches out, placing a hand in the center of my chest, almost as if steadying himself. My heart thunders beneath his palm so fervently, I’m sure he must be able to feel it, and even though I’m ninety nine percent certain he’s going to kiss me, I can’t quite get my head around the idea.
He’s close enough I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, and I’ve never anticipated a kiss more in my life. It takes every ounce of self-control to wait and let him come to me when all I want to do is to wrap myself around him. Claim him.
I don’t move. Terrified anything I do will spook him. I want this. I need this. Sol has occupied so much of my headspace over the past couple of months, I feel almost drunk at having him so close.
His hand moves from my chest, sliding up and wrapping gently around the back of my neck. At my sides, my fingers ache to touch him, but not yet.
Not.
Yet.
Sol’s eyes are half closed, fixed on my mouth once more, as he sways forward and brushes his nose against my cheek. I’m a patient man, but this is testing my limits.
“Fucking kiss me, Sol.”
He freezes for a fraction of a second, but then his mouth slants over mine. It’s as though someone flicked on a light switch—every nerve lighting up as his lips tentatively caress mine. So soft and warm. My body all but trembles with the effort of holding back, and when he gently sucks my lower lip, my restraint snaps.
Gripping his waist, I pull him closer, my other hand cupping his face, but even as I kiss him back, I’m waiting for him to pull away. He doesn’t, and I’ve never been more glad of anything in my life. My fingers tease the short hair at the nape of his neck as I deepen the kiss, desperate to taste him.
The second he opens for me, my tongue brushing his, the tense set of his shoulders loosens, and he melts against me. I tilt his head to give myself better access, and he lets me. It’s as though he’s giving me control, and I’m more than happy to take it.
I turn us without breaking the kiss, using Sol’s body to close the door, before pushing him up against it. His hands smooth over my chest and shoulders, exploring carefully, and there’s something about the way he’s kissing me, that makes me wonder if he’s been thinking about this as much as I have.
I’m rock hard inside my jeans, and as Sol’s hands move to my back, smoothing down to my waist, my hips move of their own accord, pushing against him. His resulting groan against my tongue has me repeating the movement as the desperation in our kiss switches gear. There’s no hiding the fact that he’s hard too, and my fingers tighten their grip on his shirt to stop myself from exploring.
We should stop. My head is spinning, drunk with lust, but I can’t let go. My hands remain firmly in place because I don’t trust myself to touch him. I sincerely doubt he’s ready for what’s burning through my mind, and the thought of sinking to my knees and taking him in my mouth has a deep moan resounding in my chest.
But no. He’s a little drunk and I don’t want him to regret this. He can’t regret this. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone more in my life and, as the thought that this might be a one-off creeps into my head, I try and pour promises of what could happen if he wanted it to into my kiss.
Sol’s fingers wind into the back of my shirt, pulling me to him as he meets the roll of my hips and I realize I’m going to have to stop this before I come in my pants like a fucking teenager.
It goes against everything my body is screaming for, but I break the kiss, gently gripping his neck with one hand as I press kisses along his jaw. Sol’s head falls back against the door, his chest heaving as he catches his breath, and I nip at his swollen lips.
“I should go.” I force out the words between kisses, and his eyes fly open, his body tensing, but I lean in and brush my lips against his in reassurance. “Sol, if you want this to happen again, I’m game. But I’ve got a long drive in the morning, and you’re not sober enough to let me take this further.”
He gives a small nod, and I can practically see the realization of what’s just happened downloading in his eyes. I press another kiss to his lips and gently pull him away from the door so I can open it.
“Have a good break,” I say, but Sol just stares then swallows.
I don’t want the memory of that kiss tainted by whatever freak out he’s about to have, so I slip out of the room and head back downstairs. The sudden increase in noise has me wincing and I head straight for the front door. It wasn’t a lie. I have a three-and-a-half-hour drive home to Seattle in the morning.
My lips are still tingling as I step outside into the icy night air, and I’m so lost in thinking about how Sol felt beneath my fingers, I almost miss Alex Rainer sitting on the bottom step, his eyes closed, and his head leaned back. He never actually texted me back about what I found out. With everything that happened with Sol, I completely forgot the reason I wanted to come to the party. Well, the other reason.
Standing over him, I nudge him with my knee. “Hey.”
Alex opens his eyes, and they’re unfocused as he squints up at me.
“I’ve been looking for you,” I say, which isn’t exactly true, but it’s easier than, ‘I was going to look for you but then got distracted by your best friend’s mouth’.
“Wes!” he exclaims.