He rolls his eyes, but I know he loves it when I call him mine. “We usually just say boyfriends, jeez. But if you wanna make a big deal, I’m okay with that, Daddy. You’ll be my first.”
“First boyfriend?” He nods. “What about girlfriends?”
“Nope. I, uh, never found anyone that … fuck. You’re my first one, okay? Can we go back to what we were doing?”
I shouldn’t let that go, but I have no damn self-control when I’m around him. Plus, I plan on being his only. That’s candy for a territorial bastard like me.
My lips find his nipples. Shoving his t-shirt up his body, I use one hand at the small of his back to arch it and lean over to swirl my tongue and suck. In this position, all he can do is take it, panting, pretty little whimpers falling from his mouth. I release his nipple. “You’re going to have to break it off with her.”
The laugh starts as a restrained shaking of his ribcage, slowly building to a damn cackle.
“Luke, I’m not dating Celeste, but your jealousy is fucking epic. I knew you wanted me.”
He’s so pleased with himself.
“She has your fucking hoodie.”
“Jesus. Not you, too. It was platonic hoodie giving—it’s a thing.”
I shake my head. “Nope. There will be no hoodie giving of any kind, which includes but is not limited to letter jackets, or you’re going to have a very sore backside, understand?”
“Fine, moving forward,” he clarifies. “No hoodie giving of any kind.”
“And you’ll get that hoodie back.”
“Luke,” he whines. “Please don’t make me. That wasn’t just any hoodie, it’s the hoodie that helped patch things over with Delta Gamma.”
“If they want to patch things over with you, it shouldn’t rely on an article of clothing.”
“I agree. It shouldn’t have, but it did.”
I catch something in his expression. Something that shouldn’t be there in a man so young. Something that says he understands the difference between fair and necessary. I recognize the look because it developed in me far before it should have, too.
“Alright, McKinnon. I’ll let this one go,” I say, but leave out that I’m only letting his participation go, not the hoodie. I’m getting that hoodie back fromCelesteif it’s the last thing I do. “But do it again, and I’ll punish you.”
“Ooooh, how?”
“You said I can do whatever I want. Let’s see if you’re still singing that tune when you learn how creative I can be with punishments.”
His jaw drops as the gravity sinks in, but then he lays his head on my shoulder as if it’s always belonged there. As if he might be soothed by the thought of consequences.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Luke. He won’t let you kiss him. You’ve fucking ruined this before it started.
“M’kay,” he murmurs. He finds my hands as if he’s looking for something. They’re partially taped, but the knuckles are bare, worn raw. I need to get some antiseptic on them.
“What happened to these?”
It’s my turn for a little embarrassment. “Umm.”
“Luke.”
“I beat the shit out of a punching bag … for six hours.”
He laughs. “Why?”
I brush my thumb over his cheek. “You.” I resist the urge to kiss him—something else I’ll be banging on the bag about. “I wanted you, but I thought I couldn’t have you. I needed to bleed somewhere, princess.”
“Fuck,” he breathes. “That’s damn near romantic and almost makes up for you being such an asshole earlier.”
