Page 141 of Headstrong Like Us

It’s slowing sinking in—that this isours.The attic bedroom used to be ours too, but he moved into my place.

Here. Now. We’re doing this together.

I shut the door behind us. “It’s the first night.”

His heady brown eyes stalk my movements and hang onto my words.

“We’re going to have to christen this place.” I pull my shirt up and over my head. Farrow drinks in my cut abs and chiseled build, and my gaze brushes his strong jaw and lip piercing.

His finger rubs over his mouth. Amusement dances in every beautiful inch of him. I swear he stockpilesenjoyment, and it overflows and peeks out of his smiling eyes.

I’m drawn in, and I’m highly aware that he’s about to annoy me.

“Maximoff.” He eyes me up and down. “You do know that you don’t have to make up reasons to fuck me.”

I growl out a load of agitation. “You’re right.” I back away from him, heels hitting the mattress. “Pretty sure I don’t want to fuck you anymore.”

Farrow steps closer. “Why’d you take off your shirt then?”

“It’s hot in here. Any other obvious questions?”

Farrow lets out a laugh and his gaze drops. “Yeah. Why are your pants still on?”

I shrug stiffly. Heat igniting across my skin the longer Farrow stares at me like that. Like I’m five-seconds from being underneath him. From pressure mounting and welling up. Friction building.

Anticipation is like a drug, and I’m eager to feed into it.

“Could ask you the same thing, man.”

Farrow, all cool confidence, unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his slacks, unzips, and slips his tattooed fingers under his elastic waistband. Keeping eye contact with me, he pulls off his black slacks and slowly steps out of them.Fuck, he’s hot.Veins pulse in my dick, blood pumping, and my pulse bangs in my eardrums.

“Wolf scout.”

“Yeah?” I’m breathing too hard. I try to layer on seriousness and wipe off anI’m so fucking attracted to youpractically drooling stare.

“Your pants are still on.”

A rough noise catches in the back of my throat. “Really? Could have sworn I took them off about five centuries ago. Been naked ever since.”

Farrow smiles and nears. “Okay, smartass.” He looks me up and down. “You want me to undress you.”

No.Yes.

No. Definitely not.

Maybe.

Jesus Christ.

I’m unmovable.

Farrow is right in front of me, our eyes never detaching, and his gorgeous fingers slip the button out of the loop of my jeans. Undoing me quickly, figuratively and literally.

His hand—hands that have healed and cared and loved me—skates beneath the denim. He palms the swelling length of my erection that strains against boxer-briefs.Fuckfuck.

A groan strangles inside my throat, and I’m starved for him.

“Get over here,” I growl and grab the back of his head. I bring his lips to mine. Our kiss pushes us together and unconscionablydevoursme. Body and soul, and I can’t get enough.