Page 92 of The Frathole

When we get back to my room, Ryan’s grinning ear to ear.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“You like me too.”

“Huh?”

“When I said I could stay over the summer, you got all excited at the idea of me fucking you for a few more weeks, and that’s why you volunteered too.”

Why are my cheeks so damn hot?

I know the answer.

Because he’s right.

“You were looking right at me,” I say. “Don’t act like that’s not what you were thinking.”

He shrugs. “Okay, I admit it. Now you have to admit you like me.”

“You already know I like you. We covered that.”

He steps toward me, and I retreat until my back’s against the bathroom doorframe.

“Come on,” he says as his arms hook around me. Because of the sweat we worked up, I can smell his musky scent, which doesn’t prick at my nose the way it once did. Now it’s like a drug.

“You can tell me the truth,” he says. “You’re catching the feels.”

“The feels? How old are we?”

“Well, if you’re not catching the feels for me, then I guess I have to be the one to confess I’m catching the feels for you.”

A surge of energy swirls in my belly, like butterflies. There’s that warmth in my cheeks again.

“Can you be more specific?” Of course, I don’t need him to be. I know exactly what he’s saying, and it’s a relief because I feel the same way.

Ryan moves quickly, taking a kiss. His soft lips overtake mine, minty from the Altoids we popped on the way home. His hands slide under the back of my shirt, gliding across my skin as his tongue expertly toys with mine.

He squats down and hoists me up by my thighs. Pushing me back against the doorframe, he dominates me with kisses, his lips lingering for another moment before he pulls back and gazes at me, those bright blue eyes sparkling. He waits, as though he’s unwilling to give me what I want until I give him what he wants.

“I’ve caught some feels for you,” I finally admit. “Is that what you want to hear?”

He angles his head. “Only if you really mean it. And don’t worry, I know you do.”

He’s got the cockiest damn expression on his face—the kind I used to want to punch off his face when his team would win a TaskFrat challenge, but now it’s so fucking adorable.

“Can you stop saying feels?” I ask.

“The guys were giving me hell. Said they could tell I had the feels for someone, and I was telling them it wasn’t true. Then that thing happened with Miles…fuck, how I wanted to kick his balls through his jaw.”

“Not sure how that would work, but…”

“The point is that my friends do really know me, and all that made me realize just how right they were. Marty McGovern’s got me feeling all the feels.” He leans close, licking up my lips before offering another kiss. “Now let’s get you out of these clothes, and then I’m gonna clean you off and fuck you in the shower,” he whispers against my mouth, and that excitement in my belly bursts into heat throughout my body, stirring a familiar desire I have to sate.

We strip down, and while he grabs a condom and lube from the nightstand, I run the shower water and rinse off.

“Give me that,” he says, snatching the loofah from me. He lathers more soap onto it and, starting at my chest, cleans me off. He’s slow and deliberate with his movements, his eyes drinking me in as though he wants to make sure to cover every inch of me. He moves the loofah in circles around my abdomen, paying extra attention to the dips and grooves.

As he squats down, I reposition so the water slaps against my back as he takes his time on either leg, then once he’s finished, runs his finger between them, wiping across my ass, massaging gently. He offers a low growl, which ignites a fire within me.