I should let this night end. “I should . . .” But my head’s so hazy with desire I can’t finish the sentence the way I ought to.
I try again. “I should wash my hands,” I say to buy some time before I can ask him one more thing.
Jason just nods, then gestures to the sink. “Go for it,” he says.
Those words reverberate. They wrap around me. They drive me on as I walk to his sink, wash my hands, then turn off the tap.
I hunt around for a towel. Jason holds one out to me.
His face is unreadable, and it’s clear I need to ask for what I want. He probably doesn’t know I’m bi. I have to be the one to take the chance.
I reach for the towel he’s offering, wipe my hands on it, then set it down on the hook.
I weigh my options. I could chalk this up to one weird night with some flirty tension. Or I could go for it.
But really, I’ve known my choice since I walked in that door, telling myself I was only here to ask for media help. “Jason, remember when you asked if I liked to gamble?” I ask.
“I do,” he says evenly, his thumbs tucked into the pockets of his shorts. His whole demeanor says the ball is in my court.
I toss the ball in the air, and I serve. “I’d like to roll the dice right now. And I have another question for you,” I say.
This time, he doesn’t speak. He just nods, letting me make the next move.
One more glance at the clock. I have twenty minutes. I don’t want to waste them. “Can I kiss you?”
6
Dirty Everythings
Jason
* * *
When I first met Beck, I had no idea he was into dudes. I didn’t get a vibe whatsoever. Until he said he wanted to watch the romantic comedy too, but even then, I didn’t want to entertain those ideas. And once he started inching closer on the couch and checking me out, I still didn’t want to presume he was into me.
Now that he’s shown his hand, I’ve got a ton of questions for him.
Like, is this what you meant when you said, ‘most of that’? And did you come over for this reason? And did you really want media tips? Because, damn, I believed you. And the biggest question too—are you out?
But as I rake my gaze over the man in my kitchen, I keep those questions locked up. This moment is so surreal I don’t want to break the spell by talking.
Or by thinking about what a bad idea kissing another quarterback might be.
Beck struck the match with his question, and now I’m burning with lust. I want to fan the flames. I step closer, press my hand against his firm pecs, and whisper a smoky answer, “Yes.”
“Good. That’s good,” he says with a staggered breath.
For a few hot, horny seconds, we stay poised inches apart, caught in the anticipation.
How the hell did I get here?
I had no plans to make out with him. All I wanted this afternoon was to help a dude who was floundering. But dammit, Beck’s sexy and smart and weirdly, sort of charming. The way he’s been looking at me is scrambling my brain.
And turning me on.
He licks his lips, the tip of his tongue flicking over the corner of his mouth.
But his hands hang at his sides like he doesn’t know where to put them. Is he unsure after all? Regretting his can I kiss you question?
He silences my worries in a second as his mouth crashes down on mine.
He isn’t slow. He doesn’t take his sweet time. Beck jams the gas pedal. The race car peels away onto the track at one hundred miles an hour.
Sparks fly down my body. Electricity flares in my bones. He kisses me hard and harder still, his hands grabbing my face, his lips bruising mine.
Beck is fire and fury, and that cranks my engine. This is how I like it.
I don’t want sweet nothings. I want dirty everythings.
He growls as he kisses me, which makes me hotter and harder. He sucks on my bottom lip. I bite the edge of his mouth. He thrusts his tongue past my lips and devours me.
My head spins with lust as I taste him—he tastes desperate for me.
And determined too.
Letting go of my face, he pushes on my chest so I back up against the counter. The edge of it digs into my back. It hurts, and I don’t care.
His hands travel everywhere on my body, artlessly gripping my pecs, then grabbing my jaw, and sliding down my arms. Cataloging me. Seconds ago, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Now, he doesn’t know how to stop touching me.
At last, he returns his palms to my face, holding me hard as he kisses me relentlessly. I slide my hands around to his ass, curl them tight over his cheeks, and slam his hard-on against my dick.