Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Then I let go and flop down on the pillow. “Want to shower?” I suggest.
“Yes,” he says on a soft murmur, and there.
That’s what’s next.
And that’s another reason this isn’t a hookup whatsoever. Showering together is intimate.
A minute later, we’re in the dimly lit shower. Under the water, he hands me the soap. I wash off and he does the same, but that awkward feeling cloaks me again.
Now that we’ve slept together, where do we go? How do I act when I see Zane and Priyam for dinner? How do I talk to Vance about Zane? Will I be imagining our intimacy every time Zane’s name arises?
Well, yeah.
I turn around, lift my face to the stream of water, and close my eyes, trying to figure out how to navigate my job now that I’ve crossed this line.
When Zane’s hands slip around my waist, and his chin rests on my shoulder, my attention resets to him. Then, he asks, “Do you ever want to top me?”
Laughter bursts from my chest. The question is preposterous. I turn around. “I thought we talked about this?”
He shrugs, a little innocently. “I was just asking.”
“You’re not just asking,” I say, tapping his temple and calling him out. He’s asking for a reason. “What’s going on in there?”
Zane draws a breath. “Okay, I just liked when you were on top of me on the bed a few minutes ago. Kissing like that. So I guess I’m not so much asking if you want to fuck me, but do you ever want to take the lead like that when we kiss?”
When we kiss.
Zane says it so easily. Like we kiss in the present tense. Like we’re a couple.
My heart speeds up, and it feels so good.
But this conversation is so dangerous.
“Yeah,” I say, answering honestly. “I like when you top me in bed, but I wouldn’t wait for you to make all the first moves if that’s what you mean.”
He seems to breathe more easily. “Yeah that’s what I mean. Like, would you just grab my face and kiss me in the shower?”
Well, that’s clear.
I grasp his jaw in one hand, drag him against me, and kiss him. Once again, I set the pace, but I don’t mirror Zane’s style. I don’t kiss him ruthlessly, the way he kisses me. Instead, I indulge in those lips of his, nipping and teasing, drawing out a gasp from Zane.
He sounds helpless, and that thrills me. Right now, right here, I want him to feel…savored. I kiss him like I’d drink a fine wine, luxuriating in the taste. A long, slow kiss as I slide my hand down his chest and his abs tremble under my touch. A deep, passionate one as I roam my hand up his arm, into his wet hair. Then, when he’s shuddering, I coast my lips along his jawline, up to his ear. I nibble on his earlobe and he wraps his arms tighter around me, his body and breath saying wow.
Then I break the kiss, look into his eyes. “Like that?”
He looks dazed. “Yeah.” Then he swallows, as if he’s girding himself for something. “You could do that anytime. I like that.”
“Me too,” I say.
He leans in closer. “I like everything, Maddox,” he whispers.
“Same here,” I say.
And that’s the problem.
When we finish showering, we dry off, pull on boxer briefs, then flop down on the bed. There’s a comforting familiarity to our movements. Like we’ve done this before. Like we could do it again.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, since that’s as good a guess as any for him after a game. I sure am, since I haven’t eaten since lunch and it’s midnight now.
“Starving. I was considering ransacking the mini bar but…”
“But you don’t want M&Ms or Pringles, you health nut,” I tease.
He bumps his shoulder to mine. “You know me.”
My chest warms. “I do.”
He sighs contentedly. “My kingdom for room service,” Zane says. Then he nudges my arm. “Mister Foodie, won’t you order for me?”
“Happily,” I say.
He grabs the paper menu from the nightstand and hands it over.
And this right here is another way we fit. Zane likes to take care of me when we’re naked. He likes me to take care of him when we’re clothed.
We could be so good together.
But I try to ignore those risky thoughts as I pick up the phone, place the order for chicken primavera and kale Caesar salad for me and salmon with quinoa salad for him, then tackle another awkward moment while I’m on the phone. “And if you could just leave it right outside the door, that’d be great. Just add a twenty-five percent tip now,” I say to the man taking our order.
“Thank you, Mr. Archer,” the man says.
I hang up, and Zane gives me an approving nod. “That was…smart,” he says. His smile vanishes. “And I wish it weren’t necessary.”