Page 22 of Striking the Match (Redwood Bay Fire #3)

Teddy

Forget whatever book my author’s been writing. She’s going to have to skip to my obituary, because I’ve just died and gone to heaven.

If I had any wits about me, I might have been startled that Cassius Garda kissed me. But I’m far too busy kissing him back for anything as sensible as that.

It’s also difficult to be startled when everything about this just feels so right.

His lips are plump but strong as they claim mine over and over, and his tongue tastes a little like berries from the protein bar he ate not long ago.

Despite the night air, his skin is warm against mine as he touches my face and slips his hand under my clothes to squeeze my hip.

We don’t speak, but I move my leg a fraction to try and get closer to him than just sitting side by side.

Before I know it, he’s already hoisting me up to straddle his lap.

What little common sense I have left is telling me I need to be careful of his sprained ankle and the injured shoulder that ended his football career, not to mention all our other cuts and bruises.

But he doesn’t seem particularly concerned about any of that as he moans and gasps against my mouth, his fingers digging into the damp skin of my back.

“Teddy,” he utters between kisses.

If I thought wearing the hoodie he gave me made me feel claimed, it’s nothing compared to hearing my name from his lips. I quiver in his grasp, taking a second to break away from the kiss and press our temples together, gulping down some air.

“Am I really yours?” I ask, feeling vaguely delirious.

He eases me away to meet my gaze with his beautiful hazel eyes.

“Mine,” he growls possessively, an almost feral curl on his lip as he rolls us so I’m on my back with him looming above me.

There’s more than one twig or stone digging into me from the forest floor, but all those little twinges of pain do is electrify me, keeping me grounded in the present and all the delicious sensations flying through my body.

It’s not like I’ve forgotten our conversation from earlier about this not being an ordinary relationship I’m embarking on.

But that’s the thing about almost dying.

It often reminds you to do all the living you possibly can before it’s too late.

What’s the point of waiting out of fear when Mother Nature can turn around and try and snatch it all away in the blink of an eye?

Besides, it’s not like I haven’t thought about what it would mean to be with Cassius. A lot. As incredible as this moment is, I have imagined it a thousand different ways already, most of them before I even met him.

None of those even come close to reality. Because reality isn’t perfect. It’s messy and slightly awkward, and that’s what makes it real. I don’t want a flawless Instagramable kiss.

I want to feel the grit on our skin and the slightly moist ground below me and the slightly chilly breeze.

Even Cassius’s injured foot adds a certain charm to it, so long as he’s not in too much discomfort, because it’s authentic.

When he winces for the second time, I huff and roll us over again so he’s now the one underneath me.

“Better?” I ask with a crooked eyebrow.

He laughs and shrugs. “I suppose it’s more elevated this way. Do you like being on top?”

“I like whatever,” I tell him honestly, skimming my fingertips along his jaw and against the shorthairs at the back of his neck, just like I’d dreamed about. “Injury aside, what do you like?”

“Top, bottom, whatever,” he agrees with me, grinning as he bites his lower lip and cards his fingers through my hair. “Fuck. I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Even though I promised myself I’d stop second guessing his attraction to me, those words do make my breath hitch. “The moment you…?”

He nods and pulls me down to kiss my mouth softly, which is somehow hotter than the desperate kisses we were trading before. I don’t want it to end, but his next words are worth it.

“When you walked through that shelter door, Teddy Foster, I thought I’d been struck by lightning. I tried to fight it because I didn’t want to scare you off. But holy hell, I just knew I had to get my hands on you someday if I could.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, and we grin against each other’s lips. “You can’t just go around saying things like that to unsuspecting boys, sir,” I tell him pointedly. “You’ll give them all kinds of naughty ideas.”

“Not a boy,” he mumbles as the kisses intensify again. “A fucking gorgeous man. My man.”

There doesn’t seem to be any reason to keep talking after that. How could he possibly say anything better than he already has? Besides, kissing is a far superior use of our mouths.

The fire crackles and the crickets sing as we lose ourselves in each other. Hands cling and breaths mingle and hips grind until I don’t know where I end and he begins.

But there’s still too much between us. So when his hands fumble with my belt, I moan in relief.

“Is this okay?” he mutters against my tingling swollen lips.

“Yes, please, yes,” I beg, copying him by reaching for his jeans.

However, I have to keep one hand to prop me up, so I don’t get very far.

But Cassius just chuckles, such a warm sensual sound right by my ear, and as soon as he’s done with my buckle, button and zipper, he makes short work of his own for me.

Then all that’s between us both and a couple of hard, leaking cocks is a little damp cotton.

I drink in the sight, suddenly apprehensive.

With some random hook-up or any other guy I was considering dating, I’m sure I wouldn’t be hesitating this way.

But this feels momentous. Like if we cross this line, there’s no going back.

Because if I share orgasms with Cassius Garda, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be ruined for all other men.

I’m broken from my trance when Cassius carefully touches my chin with his thumb and finger, encouraging me to look back into his eyes.

“We can stop,” he says quietly, kindly. There’s no hint of irritation or disappointment, which helps me relax.

I’m safe with him. He’s going to take care of me, I know it.

And if I really did want to pump the brakes, I’m certain we could try again some other time.

But I take a breath and shake my head. “I don’t want to stop, it’s just…”

“A lot?” he suggests. I nod gratefully. “Tell me, what’s the worst that could happen? I’m not talking about social media or TMZ. What’s the worst that could happen right now when it’s just you and me and the stars?”

I blush and smile, ducking my head to have a moment of shyness. “That’s stupidly romantic,” I mumble.

“It was supposed to be,” he says smugly. He rubs my back reassuringly. “I’m serious, though. If there’s something you’re not comfortable with or don’t like, you have to tell me. That’s a rule.”

It’s a good rule and I appreciate it. But it’s not what’s bothering me.

I huff and roll my eyes. “What if…what if I’m not good enough,” I manage to finally get out, my face flaming so hard I have to completely look away from him.

Suddenly, I’m wishing we were still side by side.

Being on top feels like a lot of pressure.

Like I’m in charge when it’s obvious he should be.

“Oh, baby, no. Please look at me.”

If anything, that just makes things worse.

My brain short-circuits at the word ‘baby.’ I always thought pet names were kind of cringe. But hearing him call me that makes me feel something I’ve never really experienced with a partner before.

Cherished.

“Broke you a little bit, huh?” he asks, tilting my chin again until I can see him grinning. He’s not laughing at me, though. That’s very clear. “Am I okay to call you baby? I haven’t tried it on anyone else before.”

I blink and take a breath. Forget the hoodie and the way he said my name earlier.

This is what officially makes me feel like I’m now his.

“Really?” I ask in almost a whimper.

He cups the side of my face and rubs his thumb against my cheek. “Yes, Teddy. Really. Remember, you’re probably a lot more experienced at this than I am.” He frowns. “Although I really don’t want to think about you being with other men right now.”

The laugh that erupts from my throat is a little too loud in the otherwise quiet forest. But I soon drop my face against Cassius’s neck to muffle it. “I can’t believe you’d ever be jealous over me,” I say in delight, drawing back to grin at him.

“You bet your ass I am,” he says with a fake glare. When he grabs my butt, though, he can’t keep it up, and laughs with me. “This is the ass I’m referring to, by the way, and it should be an actual crime how good it looked in those booty shorts you had on at the walkway the other day.”

I bite my lip, my nerves easing and my playfulness resurfacing. “Oh, you liked those, huh?”

“I’m going to buy you a pair in every color, baby,” he rasps before planting his lips firmly back on mine, the kiss becoming heated within seconds.

I get lost in the embrace once more. But when his hand slides around my still half-hard cock, his fingers gliding over my briefs, I gasp and pull away just enough so I can look into his eyes.

“Is this okay?” he asks again.

What am I afraid of?

Slowly, I nod, purposefully lowering my shoulders and letting the tension seep from my body.

Wordlessly, he uses his free hand to caress my jaw with his knuckles then brush his thumb against my lower lip.

He traces his fingers down my chest, and even though I’m wearing his hoodie, the touch feels so good.

Then he takes the hand I’m not using to support myself and guides it between his legs.

He pauses just before I connect with anything, however, and raises his eyebrows, yet again asking for my consent.

What am I afraid of?

I bite my lip and drop my hand the last inch, skimming my fingers along his hard length, hot to my touch even through his underwear.