“I don’t, Booker. I’m at a total loss when it comes to figuring you out, so you’re going to need to spell it out for me.”
He braces his hands on the marble island. “Come on, Ian. You know why. You know exactly why. You have to.”
“Why you were pulled out of the class? Yeah, I do. Your dad pitched a fit with the dean and damn near got the athletic academic advisor fired.”
He winces at my blunt statement, but it’s the truth, so I keep going. “What I don’t know is why the hell you keep showing up? Why you were sitting in my lecture hall two days ago? You’re not getting a grade, Booker. You can’t even access the material. So what gives? You just couldn’t bring yourself to tell me you dropped? Thought you’d hurt my feelings or something? Because that’s bullshit. I’d have understood, and you know that.”
“That’s not it,” he shakes his head, his hands balling into fists at his side.
“Then why?” I press.
“You know why.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yeah, Ian. I think you do.”
“No, I—” But before I can finish that sentence, Booker Zabek’s lips are on mine.
Chapter 14
Booker
I'm kissing him.Holy God in heaven, I’m kissing Ian McBride, and it feels better than anything I’ve ever done in my life. My lips are on his, tentative at first, because I’m so far out of my depth it’s not even funny. But I can’t fight this anymore, and Ian’s not fighting it either. His lips devour mine; his body presses against me.My hands are everywhere, desperate for more contact. Taking control, he wraps his arms around me, holding me close, grounding me.
No kiss has ever felt this good. No touch this electric. No need this frantic. It's like I've been asleep my whole life, and I'm finally waking up.
Ian pulls back, and for a second, my heart stutters.
“Is this what you want, Booker?”
The words are deliberate, but his voice is breathless, and it turns me on to realize that I’m the reason why. That knowledge makes me braver, bolder, so I cup the back of his neck, and brush kisses across his lips. “Yes, Ian. You’re what I want.”
“There are a million reasons this is a bad idea,” he tells me, pulling me close, wrapping his arm around my waist. “But there are a million and one reasons it's the best idea either of us hasever had.” He kisses me back, and I feel alive. Free. Untamable. Invincible.
My body responds to his touch, and it feels like my blood is on fire as it rushes through my veins. I’m a little dizzy and a little nervous, but I feel more like myself than I have in a very long time.
Ian bites at my lip, and my knees go weak. I can fly down the ice on thin metal blades, take hits from guys weighing over two hundred pounds skating at me full force. But this man is my undoing. Breaking free of the kiss, he smiles up at me, tracing my swollen lip with his finger.
Damn, I think to myself, not even caring that it’s a curse word. Ian’s kisses are turning my world upside down, and I don’t mind it one bit.
Taking my hand, he leads me into the living room and takes a seat on the couch. I want to pull him off the couch, drag him upstairs, and toss him on my bed. I want to take my clothes off and stand before him, letting him look his fill. I want to undress him slowly, piece by piece, like the very last present on Christmas morning. I want to explore his body, I want to…I don’t even know what I want. I don’t have the words to describe all the things I want us to share. But I don’t want any distance between us, not anymore. So, I sit next to him and thread my hand through his. He swallows visibly, and it's a heady feeling, knowing that I have an effect on him too.
“Did you want to watch some T.V.?” he asks, gesturing toward the big screen. “Or play some video games?”
Is he for real right now? For an awful minute, the sting of rejection hits hard. Holy crap, have I just misjudged everything? But then I see the hard, thick outline of his dick as it strains against the zipper of his dark jeans. I see the tension in his right hand as he grips the arm of the couch, his knuckles turning white. I see the flush in his cheeks that matches my own.
I’m not the only one who wants more.
“No,” I say, releasing his hand and turning to face him. “I don’t want to watch T.V. And I don’t feel like playing video games.” I trace the line of his arm with my hand, loving the hard feel of it. His limbs are wiry, lean, like the rest of him. He’s got a button-down on, like usual, the sleeves rolled and cuffed, his forearms exposed. His arms are peppered in freckles and reddish-blond hair, and the sight of them does something to me.
Once, just before Lexi and I realized we were better off as friends, I came home to find her on my bed. Candles were lit, and there might have been rose petals, too. She was spread out on my duvet cover, naked except for a lacy thong and a bra that barely covered her nipples. My dick didn’t even notice. I wanted it to. I wanted to feel something, but it just wasn’t there. I told myself I was being pious and respectful. But that was a lie.
And later, when I thought back on that moment, I wondered if maybe sexual attraction just wasn’t a thing for me.
But the bulge in my sweats says otherwise. I should probably feel guilty that I couldn’t drum up any enthusiasm for my naked girlfriend, but the sight of Ian’s forearms has me adjusting myself and counting backwards from two thousand.
“What do you want?” Ian’s voice is strained, and it draws me back to the present.
