Page 22 of Gym Bros (Bay Area Bros #2)
He nods toward the fluffy gray sofa, and I head over to it.
I look around at the open space with its large windows and high ceilings.
It’s a townhouse, so there’s a staircase, which leads to a lofted area above, which must be huge.
The foyer is to my right and there’s a hallway to my left.
The walls are a warm white decorated with black and white photographs of flowers and sculptures.
The large, flat-screen TV hangs between built-in shelves covered with books and various other items from a Carneval mask to a small stuffed koala bear. Near one of the windows is a gray velvet chaise that makes me sad to look at.
I bet he looks amazing naked on it, but it’s starting to feel like I’ll never know.
He joins me with the cat close behind him. He has a glass of white wine in one hand and a glass of water for me.
Once again, I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that he needs to have a drink to deal with me—at two in the afternoon—but I don’t say anything about it.
He tucks himself into the couch on his side with his knees drawn up. He’s facing me from maybe a foot and a half away. Siva jumps up and sits between us, snuggling against him.
“So I can see how calling you cute would have sounded patronizing.”
“We’re circling back to that?”
“It was a good date,” he says like he’s commenting on the weather.
“What was good about it?”
“My first carousel ride?”
“Glad you enjoyed it,” I say flatly.
“I really did,” he says, more sincerely. “I’m not used to…well, no one’s ever bought me a hot cocoa before.”
I think about this and feel some triumph at that admission. Although, I don’t think he’s trying to give me a win with that comment. “Is that some reference to the fact that I’m young?”
“It’s not—I mean you are young. But it’s more like I feel old. And I felt a little less old today. It was fun.”
“I’m guessing you’re used to being wined and dined or whatever,” I say.
He sips his wine and watches his hand run over his cat’s gorgeous fur. “Something like that.”
“And that’s what you prefer?”
“I never really thought about it,” he says .
“Why’d you change your mind about today? Was it just peer pressure? Are you trying let me down easy?”
He meets my eyes, lips pressed together. Finally, after much consideration, he says, “No, I… You surprised me last night.”
“In a good way?” I ask, wondering how many rounds he’s going to let me win before he knocks me on my ass.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
I run my damp palms down my pants legs and sigh heavily. “Maybe we should stick with yoga.”
“I know I’m gonna regret this,” he says, leaning to set his half-finished wine on the coffee table. “Can we try one of those kisses again?”
“Wow, you really know how to seduce a guy.”
He moves his cat aside and scoots closer to me anyway. “Admittedly, I rely heavily on my looks, not my personality.”
“Your looks are a good place to start.”
“You’re not gonna get into my pants talking like that,” he says.
“I don’t feel like you’ll ever let me into your pants regardless, so…”
“But you’re sure you want to have a go at it?”
Holy shit. That sounds like an actual opening. All I can do is nod because fuck yes I want in those pants.
He blinks his pretty eyes at me, waiting on my move, looking tense as fuck.
“Question,” I say, putting my hand just above his knee because the last thing he looks like he wants right now is me.
“Okay.”
I squeeze lightly, and he flinches, his leg reflexively jerking back. “Sorry,” he says on a fluttery breath.
“No. I apologize,” I lie, moving my hand very deliberately to his waist instead.
He swallows audibly .
I graze my fingers lightly in a tickling motion, and he squirms, gasping. That was exactly the response I was going for. I bring my other hand to his other side and attack.
He screams—literally—as I tickle him. Losing his breath, he attempts to wiggle away, but I won’t let him get far. His giggles and sharp breaths are intermingled with protests. “Samuel! Stop! Oh my god—fuck! Help!” he screams again.
I stop once he’s on his back, and I’m hovering over him, my hands clamped firmly on his sides, a promise from me to him that I won’t do it again.
He’s glaring, breathless. “What the fuck?”
“I wanted to know if you were ticklish.”
“Why?”
“Because if I need to loosen up, so do you.”
“Fucking Rachel, did she tell you I said that?”
I nod.
“I hate her. I hate both of them.”
“Where else are you ticklish?”
“I didn’t realize I was. Not like that. ”
I arch my brows, and he’s quick to speak again. “That was not an invitation to find out.”
“Does your earlier invitation still stand? Because I’m not gonna force myself on you.”
He gets his hands on my face and drags my head down, pressing his mouth to mine in a quick kiss. “You are really cute,” he says, but this time it sounds less like a dismissal.
“And you are fucking gorgeous.”
He bites his lip. “What do you wanna do with me?”
“Whatever you’ll let me do,” I say honestly.
“Is my sweater not freaking you out?”
“This is cashmere. I’d hardly call it yarn.”
“So you have standards.”
“Yes, and I also know I’m way out my league. ”
“You’re only allowed to kiss me again if you never say that kind of shit.”
“You don’t like being judged on your looks or your job?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“Neither do I.”
“Mm…Samuel…good line. But this isn’t the way to get to know me.”
My erection doesn’t care. “Have you ever heard the expression, hook up first, ask questions later?”
He laughs. “No.”
“It’s new,” I tell him, gently lowering my body on top of his, careful to keep at least half my weight off him.
I’m surprised when he runs a hand over my head. “You’re hard,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“That’s kinda hot,” he says.
I get my hand underneath his sweater and wrap it around his waist again, but this time with my palm on his warm, smooth skin.
He’s silky soft as suspected. At first he’s tense, but I think when he realizes I’m not going to tickle him again, his tension releases with a shiver and a hell of a lot of goosebumps.
I take his lower lip between mine and kiss it softly. His hand grips the back of my head, fingertips flexing into my scalp.
I move slowly, my hand inching up his side, and my lips parting incrementally.
Finally, I feel his other hand on my hip.
We work each other’s lips softly, like we’re both waiting for the other to put a stop to this, but neither of us does, and we wind up on our sides.
He feels even smaller like this as I wrap my arm around his back and consider pulling his leg over my hip.
But as much as I want to do everything—I’d rather he lead the way.
For all I know I could be boring the hell out of him, so I try to do just enough to keep it interesting, lightly sucking his mouth, rolling my hips once, sliding my hand up his spine beneath his sweater.
Eventually, I illicit a whimper from him and his mouth puts more pressure on mine. I open up, and his tongue slides in, causing me to groan and my cock to throb.
From there, we’re making out. He squeezes my biceps, my pec. His calf slides up my leg, and he burrows closer. I tuck him into my arms and tongue him deep.
“Mmph,” he grunts, pressing his chest to mine like he wants even closer.
Finally, I feel his hard on against the top of my thigh. I suck his tongue gently, wishing it were his dick.
He’s the perfect combination of masculine grunts and feminine sighs—it’s exactly what I imagined he’d sound like when he was turned on, and nothing about this is disappointing or even strange. But it’s all new and therefore I’m a little closer to coming in my pants than I’d like to be.
I release my grip on his mouth and kiss my way down his neck, inhaling his sweet and spicy scent, noting the sea breeze lingering between strands of his hair.
Maintaining a grip on the back of my neck, he grinds his lower body against me, telegraphing more need than he started with. It’s making me hard as fuck.
“Easy, angel,” I whisper, and he freezes.
“Um…” he breathes… “I—we should—maybe—not?—”
“Not what?” I ask before kissing a soft, sweet spot beneath his ear.
“I—is this too—? I don’t know…”
“Want me to stop?”
“No—I—maybe just…”
I move back to his stammering mouth and quiet him with a deep kiss .
He melts in my arms, all except for his crotch, still demanding friction. “Just shut up, okay?” he asks, when he gets a breath.
“Want me to use my mouth for something else?”
“Mmhmm…I mean—wait?—”
I run my hand back and forth over his hip while he looks me in the eyes like a trapped animal trying to decide whether he wants to make a run for it.
Why is that hot?
Because I think he’s going to let me suck his dick or at least touch it. That’s why it’s hot. I stretch my thumb out to graze the tip of his cock which is lurching in my direction behind his jeans. He lets out a helpless sound. High pitched and breathy.
“Let me see this beautiful body, angel. I promise I won’t regret it.”