Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 37055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
I was going to do it, and then at the last minute, my mind was all “Abort, abort!”
Damn, I chickened out.
Farther back, along the fence line, is Schofield, our graduating goalie, so I pretend he was my intended target all along, and that’s where I park my ass while I scold myself for flaking.
I hang out with some of the guys, but my gaze keeps flicking back to Tyson. After a while, when I glance back again, he’s gone, and my gut sinks.
I’ve missed my chance.
I didn’t think I’d be this disappointed.
“You okay, Rossi?” Schofield asks. “You’re all jumpy. Scared your life is over?”
“Nah. Just a big day tomorrow. I’m thinking I might bail.”
Schofield holds out his hand for a man-hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“You too.”
We’ll totally become strangers. He was drafted to a team on the West Coast, so I don’t anticipate ever seeing him again.
I make my way back toward the converted garage, fist-bumping Asher on the way and waving up at Cohen, Jacobs, and Beck, who are still on the balcony.
I’m not good at goodbyes, so slinking off is the best way to do it.
As I reach the side of the house, a door flings open, and Tyson steps out, running into me. Literally. My arms wrap around him, and I grunt.
“Nice catch,” Tyson says.
“I thought you left.”
“Nope. Just needed to take a leak.” He nods behind him.
“Ah.”
We blink at each other, and I urge myself to say something. Anything.
“I thought you left.”
Okay, not that, dumbass.
Tyson smiles. “You already said that.”
“I did.” It takes me a moment to realize I still have my arms wrapped around him.
“Why do I get the impression you’ve changed your mind?” Tyson trails his hand up my chest, and heat fills his gaze at the hardness he finds.
Take this.
Use this chance.
I capture his wrist. “Maybe because I have.” The raspy tone that falls from my lips doesn’t sound like me.
Tyson glances left and then right, and then with a quick pull, he drags me into the bathroom behind him, which doubles as Jacobs and Beck’s laundry room.
Tyson closes and locks the door behind him.
The space is tiny, barely wide enough to fit both of us, so we’re immediately pressed against each other. Behind me, my ass perches on the edge of the washing machine.
“Are you sure?” Tyson whispers.
I huff a laugh. “Not at all. But like you said, everyone does this in college, right?”
“I can work with that, but I’m going to need to lay down some ground rules.”
I frown. “Ground rules?”
“This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy.” He averts his gaze and mutters, “Mm, cowboys,” before shaking his head. “Sorry, sidetracked. That happens a lot with me, so you know. Where was I? Right. Rules. I need to know exactly what you’re willing to do so I don’t push you past your limits.”
Well, this is new. I’ve never had a hookup ask that before. “Umm, I don’t think I have any?”
“Yeah, they all say that. Then I put my finger near their ass and they freak out.”
“Oh. Umm, yeah, no. No, thank you.”
Tyson chuckles. “See? We’re getting somewhere. Kissing?”
“Isn’t that a given?”
“You’d think, but sometimes no. Do you want to touch me or have me take the lead?”
We’re chest to chest, my hands resting on his hips, so I move them to grab his ass. He lets out a little squeak.
“I’m okay with touching you.” Surprisingly okay. The move is reactive and reflexive, just like the tightening of my pants.
I can feel Tyson’s cock between us, up against mine. He’s completely hard already, and for some reason, my body likes that he’s so turned on when all we’re doing is talking. I find negotiating a hookup a little awkward, but it’s comforting to know if I don’t like something I can tell him.
Ever since he asked if kissing is okay, all I want to do is press forward and touch my lips to his. When he asked if I would touch him, I wanted to touch him everywhere.
And right now, as he stares up into my eyes, I want him to put me out of my misery and kiss me already.
He rises on his toes and leans in, and I think he’s going to give me exactly what I want, but at the last second, he leans to the left and brings his lips to my ear. “Will it be too much to ask you to bend me over this washing machine and fuck me?”
I tense because, uh, yeah, no, maybe that’s a little too much.
Tyson pulls back, sensing my unease. “Disappointing, but I had to ask.”
“I didn’t say no.” Not yet, anyway.
“Your body did for you, sweetie, and that’s totally okay. I’ll go easy on you.”
There’s no more talking after that. He finally captures my mouth with his.
He starts out slow. Too slow. There’s going easy, and then there’s not giving enough.