Page 7 of Cold Comeback (Richmond Reapers #1)

We crashed onto the bed, arms and legs everywhere. Gideon shoved his thigh between my legs, creating delicious friction that made me gasp. Reaching down with a hand, he gripped my cock.

He was broader and heavier, pinning me with a weight that made my pulse race. When I found the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder and sucked hard, his entire body jerked against mine, and he made a sound I'd never heard before—raw and unguarded.

"Fuck, Thatcher—" He reached around me and dug his fingers into my ass cheek.

"That's the idea." His laugh rumbled through both our bodies.

Gideon plowed forward like he was driving for the net. I kept thinking he'd break it off, and embarrassment would take over, but he kept going harder. When I unzipped his fly and slipped my hand inside, he tried to stifle a moan by biting his own forearm.

It was both flattering and unfair.

"You're allowed to make noise." My hand was already slick with sweat, and what he was leaking.

He glared. "You make enough for both of us."

"Not even close." I gripped his balls, and he damn near bucked me off the bed.

He yanked my sweats down so hard I heard a seam pop. "You owe me new sweats," I gasped.

He manhandled me onto my back, pinning my wrists. "You never shut up, do you?"

I grinned like a lunatic. "You like that."

He leaned down, placing his mouth right next to my ear. "Maybe I do."

I could have come from that alone, but I wanted it all to last. I wanted it to be so good for him that he'd never find his way back.

Gideon must have agreed, because he let go of my wrists only to shove his own underwear down. He glared like this was all my fault. Maybe it was. I had brought a condom, after all—slipped one into my pocket before leaving the hotel.

I fished it out and held it up for him to see. "Emergency preparedness."

He shook his head. "That's not normal."

"Sure it is. Boy Scout motto. Always be prepared." I pulled a travel-sized bottle of lube from my other pocket. "Some of us do the reading before the test."

He burst out laughing, and I thought he might lose his nerve, but he pressed his mouth to mine again, even rougher than before. I tasted sweat and the beer Gideon had with the pizza.

He rolled me onto my stomach and nipped his way down my spine with his teeth. His fingers dug bruises into my hips. I barely got the cap off the lube before he snatched it away.

He used the bottle to slick up his fingers. I buried my face in the pillow, arched my back, and offered myself up.

He went slow at first—two fingers, then three, scissoring inside me while he licked at the place where my neck met my shoulder. The stretch burned, but I was already leaking onto the sheets.

I pushed back, and he groaned—straight-up lost it for a second, biting into my skin and leaving a mark. I liked that. I wanted there to be marks, proof that this actually happened.

"Fuck," he growled. "You really—Damn, you're so fucking ready."

"That's the point of the lube, Captain."

He snorted out a laugh and smacked my ass, hard enough that I jolted forward on the bed. "Smartass."

"Ass is, in fact, quite smart. Has a degree."

He lined himself up behind me and paused. Reaching back, I grabbed at his thigh.

He breached me in one smooth, relentless push, and I gripped the sheets, knuckles turning white. He was thick—bigger than I'd planned for, honestly—but the pain folded into pleasure pretty quickly. He set a pace that wiped my brain clean.

Gideon gripped my shoulders and fucked me like he had something to prove, slamming his hips into my body over and over.

I gasped, drooled into the pillow, and bit back cries that would have echoed off the walls.

My body trapped my cock between my stomach and the sheet, and every move ground me against it, sending sparks up my spine.

He reached underneath, wrapping his hand around my dick, and stroked me in time with his thrusts. It took maybe thirty seconds before I was shuddering, coming so hard I nearly blacked out. My body convulsed, and I stuttered out his name.

Gideon didn't stop. He fucked me through it, harder, deeper, until I knew he was close. His rhythm broke, and he groaned my name into my neck. When he came, I thought he might shake to pieces.

We collapsed sideways, me half on top of him, and both of us sweating, tangled, and panting. I blinked at the wall while my brain rebooted.

Gideon rolled onto his back, covered his face with his forearm, and mumbled, "Fuck, we're idiots."

"Speak for yourself. I'm a genius." I wiped my face on the pillowcase. Turning my head to the side, I saw the bite marks on my shoulder already turning red-purple. "You're going to have to explain that to the trainers."

A flush still spread across his chest, shoulder to shoulder. "Tell them you tripped on the stairs."

"They'll never believe that."

Gideon lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. I ran a hand down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and the line of hair that led to that magnificent cock.

I wriggled until I could get my mouth on his chest, tongue flicking over a nipple, biting just hard enough that he shivered. He tasted like salt, skin, and sex.

Reality began to creep back in around the edges. The sound of a car door slamming somewhere outside. The distant hum of the refrigerator downstairs. I thought about the fact that I'd just had sex with my team captain in my cursed bedroom on my first night in the team house.

Gideon sat up, running both hands through his hair—his tell-tale "oh shit" gesture that I was learning to recognize.

He reached for his shirt, then paused, fabric bunched in his hands. "The guys look up to you already." His voice was quiet, careful. "Don't let me fuck that up for you."

I blinked. "What?"

"This." He gestured between us, still not putting the shirt on. "Me. Whatever this is." He looked at me directly for the first time since we'd finished. "You've got a clean slate here, Drake. Don't let me be the reason you lose it again."

The words hit hard. "You think you're going to ruin my reputation?"

"I think I'm selfish enough to keep wanting this even though I should know better." He pulled the shirt over his head, and when he emerged, Captain Gideon was already sliding back into place. "And you deserve better than someone who can't figure out how to want something without complicating it."

The transformation back into Captain Gideon Sawyer was complete.

"I need to go."

"Need."

He paused at the door, hand on the knob. "Drake?"

"Yeah?"

"Welcome to the team house."

After he left, I lay in bed staring at the water stain on the ceiling that looked vaguely like a hockey stick if you squinted. My phone buzzed with a text message.

Gideon—Do Not Annoy: Door's always unlocked if you need anything.

I renamed the contact "Captain Complicated" and tried to convince myself it had only been a one-time thing. It was a moment of weakness; we were getting it out of our systems.

I knew that was wrong. I was already thinking about the next time.

Maybe Pluto was right about the curse. Perhaps every guy in this room did fall for someone completely inappropriate.

And maybe that wasn't the worst thing that could happen to me.

My phone buzzed again—the Bone Yard group chat lit up with someone's theory about why protein powder expired faster in this house than anywhere else. I sent back a laughing emoji and settled deeper into the mattress.

I let myself imagine what it would be like if Gideon knocked on my door again. The curse might not be such a bad thing after all.