Page 31 of Playing Dirty (Leighton U #4)

Madden

February

“You said you weren’t gonna be a distraction.”

My hand stills from where it slipped beneath the hem of Theo’s shirt a few minutes ago, having been tracing lazy patterns over his back while he reads articles on his laptop for class.

I hadn’t even realized I was doing it, touching him becoming something of a habit over the past few weeks.

Maybe even the highlight of my day, apart from the hours I spend with a glove on or my bat in hand, and with preseason games starting this weekend, I’m looking to soak up as many stolen moments with him as I can.

Which apparently includes lying on his bed with him while he studies.

Running back and forth across town has been hell on my sleep schedule these past couple weeks—and yeah, I could definitely do without sneaking through his damn window every time I come over—but I can’t lie and say it’s not worth it.

But he does have a point; I promised not to distract him.

In fact, I should be doing my own class reading right now since I skipped out on my study session to be here tonight. Which is why I pull my hand from his shirt, intending to grab my backpack from the floor and set to work too.

“That wasn’t me telling you to stop,” he says with a laugh. Closing the screen of his laptop, he shoves it to the side and rolls to his side to face me. “I was just making an observation.”

I slump back against his mattress and roll my eyes. “An observation. Right.”

“Hey, you’re the one out here breaking promises, not me.”

His smug smirk is as annoying as it is alluring, and I can’t stop myself from leaning forward and wiping it clean off his face with a kiss. Of course, the second my lips land on his, it’s game over for any hope of studying.

I roll him to his back, my forearms bracketing his head as I kiss him deeper.

His hands slide up my chest and curl around the back of my neck, locking me in place while our tongues tangle together.

It takes all my strength not to start rocking into him, grinding my dick against his until we’re both hard and ready to forget studying entirely.

But somehow, I find the strength to break away, my breathing coming out in harsh pants as I stare down at his kiss-swollen lips.

Of course, my mind is still clearly on hooking up, because the next words that slip out are a shock to him as much as they are to me.

“How do you feel about bottoming?”

He blinks the post-kiss haze out of his eyes before shaking his head. “We’re not having sex right now.”

“That wasn’t meant to be a leading question,” I say with a laugh. “I was just curious. ”

There’s a dubious, yet teasing, lilt to his tone when he says, “Yeah. Curious because you wanna fuck me.”

I mean, the answer to that is obviously a yes.

With all the exploring we’ve done together, neither of us have pushed to go farther than third base.

We’ve mixed it up quite a bit within that, though: lots of blow jobs and some makeout sessions with frotting and docking mixed in.

He even gathered up the courage to slip a couple fingers inside me while giving me head earlier this week, which was equally unexpected and hot as hell.

But the topic of anal was bound to come up eventually, and since it popped in my head, may as well make it right now.

“Fucking your tight, perfect ass would be a dream,” I tell him, a grin tugging at my lips. “But I promise, I’m good either way. Perks of being a switch on and off the field.”

He bursts out laughing, his entire body shaking against mine. I aim a dirty look at him and reach down, poking him in the ribs a few times until he starts squirming beneath me.

“Asshole. Why are you laughing?”

It takes him a second to regain his composure, only to let out a big, dramatic sigh. “I was thinking about you telling me you were a switch in Vermont.”

Oh, shit. I totally forgot about that.

“Not my finest moment, I’ll admit,” I mutter with an eye roll. “Glad it caught your attention, though.”

He just grins, his hand cupping the side of my face while pressing his lips to mine again. He pulls back before I can deepen it, and gives me a little shrug before saying, “I’m not against trying it, by the way.”

“Really? ”

Sure, he’s mentioned liking to experiment in the bedroom—and has proven as much—but for whatever reason, I fully expected it to be a fuck no on his part. Yet here he is, shrugging a second time, like getting fucked in the ass is no biggie.

“I have no idea if I’ll like it, obviously. My worry is more about needing you to stop something you’re enjoying if I’m not.”

The statement causes me to tense, and I lean back, pinning him with something bordering a stare and a glare.

“One, you will always tell me if you want me to stop. Anything we try, whenever it might be. Got it?” When he nods, I relax a little and continue. “And two, if it’s something you’re interested in, we start small. A finger or two. Some plugs. Maybe even my tongue.”

There’s a flicker of lust darkening his eyes, and once again, it floors me how clearly receptive he continues to be.

“All fantastic options,” he murmurs, his fingers scraping over my jaw. “I’ll admit, from the sounds you made the other night, I got a little jealous of how good it must’ve felt.”

“Otherworldly would be more accurate,” I counter with a grin. “I’m happy to introduce you to your prostate if and when you’re ready. There’s no pressure on my end.”

“Okay,” he whispers, sage eyes flicking back and forth between mine.

I shift my weight onto one arm and use my free hand to caress the line of his jaw before tracing down his throat, then along his collarbone. I follow the trail they make with my gaze, thoroughly obsessed with the way my tattoos contrast against his tan, virgin skin.

“You’re different than I expected,” he says suddenly.

The statement pulls my gaze back to his, and my lips twitch into a grin.

“I have no doubt about that. I’m sure you made up the worst possible version of me in your head.”

A little chuckle leaves him. “Shit, maybe you really are a mind reader.”

“It’s a gift,” I tease, though my mood sobers when I think about everything that led us here. All the fighting and bickering, the jabs and taunts, and it’s a little crazy to think it was all barely more than a month ago.

It feels like a lifetime already.

“I prefer this a helluva lot more than when you hated me,” I find myself saying.

“I didn’t hate you.”

I snort out a soft laugh. “Right. Sure, you didn’t.”

“I’m serious,” he immediately denies.

His hand presses against my sternum in a silent request for me to get off him. Despite wanting to stay exactly where I am, I roll off to the side, and without my body pinning him to the mattress, he sits up against the headboard.

There’s a depth of sincerity in his gaze when he speaks next, like he’s imploring me to hear what he’s saying with his eyes as much as he is with words.

“I never hated you, Madden.”

“Theo, I—”

His hand covers my mouth before I can get anything else out, and he shakes his head. There’s a pleading look in his eyes as he stares at me, and it gives me enough pause to hear what he has to say without interruption after he pulls his hand away again.

“It was the circumstances that brought you deeper into my life that I hated. My father having an affair, my entire life falling apart. That’s what I hated—what I still fucking hate, all things considered.

Not you. It wasn’t ever you,” he insists gently.

“And like I said a few weeks ago, I know you didn’t play a role in any of this happening either.

So it wasn’t fair to take my frustrations out on you. ”

“Okay. I believe you.”

His smile is tiny, but it’s still there when he whispers, “Thank you.”

A slow grin creeps across my face when I recall the last thing he said, having mentioned something similar to him at one point.

“So you finally admit to taking it out on me, huh?”

He rolls his eyes and mutters, “I’m going back to my reading now.”

He’s reaching for his laptop when I grab him by the waist and drag him toward me, not letting him get away with deflection. A faint, adorable little yelp of surprise leaves him, but it’s quickly smothered when he’s beneath me again, my lips finding his.

I can’t stop kissing him. It’s like anytime I’m within arm’s length of him, I need to feel our mouths pressed together. I’d find it pathetic if it didn’t make me so goddamn happy.

“We all deal with shit in our own way,” I tell him once I pull away, brushing my nose along his. “And for the record, you can take your frustrations out on me anytime.”

“You promise?”

I nod vehemently. “If it means getting your mouth wrapped around my cock again? Definitely.”

He lets out a low groan and drops his head back against the mattress.

“God, I knew having you here while I try to study would be a bad idea.”

“You’re the one who suggested it,” I remind him.

“Yeah, because you supposedly have this infamous self-control. Which inconveniently disappears whenever we’re together on a flat surface, apparently.”

“Most people would argue it’s actually convenient.”

But since he wants to argue…

I tighten my hold on his hips and roll us so he’s the one pinning me to the bed. He sits up, straddling me at the waist, and there’s a question in his eyes—brows crashing together in confusion—while he looks down at me.

“If you’re so insistent on studying, by all means. You’re free to get up. I won’t even try to stop you.”

To prove my point, I lift my hands, holding them up in mock surrender. And like I expected, Theo makes no move to get up. All he does is stare, a little dumbfounded, before scoffing.

“I lied earlier. I do fucking hate you.”

But then his mouth drops to mine, his fingers clutching the front of my shirt, pulling me in closer. My hands find his waist again and slide beneath his cotton tee, feeling the smooth heat of his skin on mine.