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I gravitate toward her, cupping her face to bring her lips to mine.

I kiss her so hungrily, she gasps when she falls back on my pillow, long brown hair fanning around her face.

The pillow is going to smell like her, and as happy as that makes me, it’ll also make me miserable as hell when she’s not here and I have to smell her even when I'm sleeping.

“Your hair’s wet,” she whispers. Man, I love her fucking voice. I kiss the warm column of her throat up to her jaw. “Aiden.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re getting me wet.”

“I’d hope so.”

She groans against me. “Your wet hair is dripping on me.”

Placing my arms on either side of her head, I pull back, and sure enough, water droplets cover her cheeks and the hollows of her collarbones.

I can’t stop smiling when I see her annoyed glare.

I kiss her again for good measure, and this time she pushes harder.

I allow her to flip us over so she can straddle my lap.

“Towel?”

“You’re sitting on it.”

She looks at the towel wrapped around my waist and lifts up, her hair in my face as she pulls it. She pouts. “Who wears boxers under a towel?”

I laugh. “I wanted to wrap your present.”

She rolls her eyes, bringing the towel up to my hair to dry it.

She’s thorough with her movements, fully concentrating on the task, her plump bottom lip between her teeth.

I watch her work through my wet hair, my focus drifting to her thin white shirt.

To my dismay, she’s taken off my jersey, but when I see the perfect swell of her breasts so close to me, I don’t care.

“My eyes are up here, Crawford,” she scolds.

Those words don’t do anything to ebb my thoughts. Arousal lights her irises, and I take it as my signal to move forward. Pulling down her top, I’m greeted with her braless tits. I drag a hand over her tight nipples and her soft whimper makes me harden to stone.

“Come here,” I say. She does, her hands still in my hair, gripping it tighter when I draw her nipple deep into my mouth. I bring one hand to her ass and lift up her skirt. “Your panties are probably soaked, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she says breathlessly when I grip her thighs.

“Why not?”

“I’m not wearing any.”

A zip of electricity jolts my dick. “ Fuck . Turn around.”

When her ass is in my face, I lift her hips to position her bare pussy right where I need it. Shocking me, she pulls down my boxers to curve her hand over my length.

“You don’t—”

“I know,” she says, looking over her shoulder. “I want to.”

Then she takes me entirely in her mouth, and I have to regain focus so I can taste her sweet center.

The noises she makes as she suctions her lips around my cock don’t help me last longer.

The competitive side of me comes into play when I swirl my tongue in a whimper-inducing combination.

It’s not long before she’s grinding down on my face, and I'm teasing her toward an orgasm.

“Please, Aiden. I need to come,” she begs, I don’t budge, ignoring her clit entirely, bringing her to the verge of imploding, then sneaking away. My balls draw up so tight, I have to use every ounce of willpower to not explode into her mouth.

“Jesus,” I groan as she applies a tantalizing touch past my balls in retaliation.

“I’ll use teeth, Crawford,” she threatens.

That draws a laugh out of me. “Nah, you won’t injure your favorite little man.”

“You did not just refer to it as that.”

“What do you prefer I call it? My hockey sti—” She takes me deep in her hot throat, making my hips buck. Her gag vibrates against my shaft, sending my body into a spiral. “Fuck. You need to stop that before this is over too soon.”

“Two pump chump?” she teases with fake sympathy. “Happens to the best of us, buddy.”

I take that moment to insert two fingers so deep inside her, my knuckles press against her sensitive core. Summer’s high-pitched moan tells me I’ve hit her G-spot, and when she writhes on top of me, still driving me crazy by swirling her tongue along my tip, I seal my mouth over her swollen clit.

She comes just as I do, releasing every bit of the built-up tension into her mouth. Summer flips away, and the post-orgasmic flush on her face is so hot I have to look away.

A knock on my door makes her scramble away and fix her clothes.

“Dinner’s ready,” Eli calls.

“I’ll eat later.” His footsteps retreat. When I try to kiss her, she pulls away.

“You didn’t eat after your game?”

“I just did.”

She makes a face and moves farther away. “I’m serious.”

“Me too. And I’m still hungry, so get your ass back here.” Despite my pull, she doesn’t come.

“You should eat. I didn’t realize I messed up your schedule.” Before I saw my truck in my driveway, I didn’t think anything could make me happier than our win against Yale. But knowing Summer drove back to my place instead of her dorm lit me up with deep satisfaction.

“You didn’t mess up anything. I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You can’t burn that many calories and not eat anything. It depletes the—”

“Summer, don’t give me a science lesson,” I say, and she frowns. “Fine, but you’re coming with me.” I move off the mattress and pull on my sweats. We’re both looking at her indecent top when she stands. So, I toss her a shirt and sweats.

Eli’s the first to spot us when we’re downstairs. “Hey, Sunny!”

Dylan’s icing his ribs when he looks up, smirking.

“Why is your hair all messed up?” Kian yawns after his post-game nap. His low-riding Twilight boxers are the only thing he’s wearing when he saunters over, with a carton of orange juice.

Eli puts out an extra place setting. Kian wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and his eyes bounce between us. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You ask stupid questions, Kian,” retorts Dylan, shooting Summer a sympathetic smile.

“As my very hot sixth-grade teacher Ms. Marple once said: There are no stupid questions, even if Kian is asking them.”

“Didn’t she quit teaching after our year?” Dylan retorts.

Kian shrugs. “No one can prove it was because of me.”

Unintentionally terrorizing his middle school teacher is on brand for Kian.

Before I can sit beside Summer, Kian occupies the chair.

Mildly irritated by the action, I sit on the other side of the table beside a very loud-chewing Cole who digs into his plate like it’s his first meal of the day.

The kid stays locked in the basement unless he’s on the ice.

He doesn’t look away from his phone except when he acknowledges my presence.

Kian’s still trying to play Sherlock Holmes, eyeing Summer with suspicion.

She stares right back. “What?”

“You seem different.”

“Fuck off, Kian,” I say.

My warning only incites him. “Am I talking to you? She doesn’t need a guard dog.”

I’m going to cause him serious bodily harm, and from the way he avoids eye contact, he knows it. “I’m going back to sleep.” Just before he turns the corner, he stops. “Try keeping it down this time. The walls are too thin to drown out your moans.”

The guys shake with laughter, and Summer turns red, dropping her face into her hands.