Chapter 10 Wolfe
TEN
WOLFE
He reaches out to grab me but hesitates.
“What did I do?” I ask.
It takes me a minute to get my words together. “Do you not trust me?”
“What?” He’s confused, but I don’t know why he’s not getting it.
“I told you I won’t ruin the friendship. I won’t let that happen. You should trust me.”
“I do. I’m just scared.”
“I’m not other homophobic dudes. I’m not insecure.”
“You’re right. I should trust you.”
“Admittedly, I know I am doing this for horrible reasons, but I’d never do that to you!”
He cracks a smile. “We’re both a little horrible, so it works well.”
“Can I have a hug?” I open my arms, needing the physical reassurance of him. I should be able to go a week without sex. I don’t know what my fucking problem is or why I’m needy all of a sudden. I slip my hand around his lower back, where his tee is riding up. Skin touching skin.
I need this.
“Are you going to be able to handle more of this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Tomorrow. The wedding.” I keep to the point.
“You can trust me, too, Wolfe. I’ll get my head out of my ass.” He really must not be into me to be this awkward.
Who hasn’t kissed someone they weren’t entirely in to? It’s never been this weird. Am I that much of a turnoff? That can’t be it…maybe just because we’re so close and he’ll have to be vulnerable?
That has to be it. I’m a fucking catch.
I slide a finger under his chin. “We don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable. Just nervous. This goes against everything I’ve been taught.”
“Your family is shit.” I’m even more annoyed.
“It’s not just them. It’s hockey. And all of the toxic culture. So yeah, I didn’t trust you, and I should have.” He lifts his gaze, finally opening up.
I don’t want to move or let go of him.
“Just promise me none of this will change anything?” he asks when we release each other.
“I told you it wouldn’t. It’s not going to.”
“Good. I’m not losing you.” He stares at his feet and is still off. “Kiss me again so I can not be so fucking weird this time.”
I grin, tilting his face up with a finger. “I will, but you don’t deserve it.”
“I know I don’t.” His eyes fall closed as he speaks, and his full lips remain parted ever so slightly.
He’s got great blow job lips, and I don’t know why that comes to mind as I’m about to kiss him.
I ignore it and lean in, inhaling a breath of him before finally connecting.
Our tongues slide together and he groans into my mouth.
We fit together, and it’s just like the closeness we already share, but better, more connected.
He digs his fingers into the back of my head, pressing his body against mine, taking over I catch up quickly, sliding my fingers around his nape. He tastes like vodka, but under it there’s the tea he likes to drink, and honey. Kissing him is so much easier than I thought it would be.
His stubble burns the edges of my lips, and I chase the intensity of it. He’s intoxicating and my body reacts to it more than I thought it would.
My lips ache, and I realize Archangel is wrong about one thing: kissing him is nothing like kissing a woman. It’s intense, and challenging, hard where women are soft. It’s equal in a way I’d never thought sex could be.
It’s shorter than our first, but we’re breathing harder. I’m not ready for it to stop. But this time, he doesn’t put distance between us. He stays and keeps his hands on me.
I skim my fingers over the back of his neck and linger in the moment, taking in how he tastes and sounds.
“I’m sure that will convince them,” he says with a half laugh.
“So that’s the one you want to do in front of your family?” I ask playfully.
“Absolutely, in front of my sister. Is that bad?” He moves like he’s going to press his face into my chest, but stops himself at the last second.
A pang of sadness hits me. Why does he feel like he can’t? And more importantly, why did I want him to? We’ve always been close, and we like to get touchy-feely to push each other’s buttons. We cuddle and stuff. This isn’t different.
“Okay.”
“It’s that easy?” he asks, smiling again.
“Why not? She deserves it.”
He finally gives in to his impulse and brushes his nose across my pec, barely gazing my nipple. I shiver and doubt everything all at once. “We should sleep.”
“Yeah?”
“You told me I have to go to bed and not be hungover. I’ve already fucked one of those.”
“I guess I did say that… Fuck past Wolfe. That guy is a party killer.”
Archangel laughs and pats my chest, pulling back. “Goodnight.”
I get in bed and toss and turn and flip, unable to get comfortable.
What have I gotten myself into?
Am I doing this for him?
I know it started that way and, a little selfishly, to stick it to his sister.
But now I’m not so sure. Does that make it wrong?
Am I pushing and fucking things up by barreling through this like I do everything and not considering what he wants and needs?
I thought I was doing the right thing, but three am thoughts fucking hate me.
I need to get some sleep, or I’m going to be even more of a wreck than Archangel for the party.
I don’t fucking sleep. Not more than a couple of hours, so I’m just making coffee when Archangel stumbles out of his room.
“I drank way too much.”
“I slept like shit.”
“Me too.” He half collapses into one of the stools at the counter.
I set a mug in front of him just the way he likes it. “You going to survive this?”
“Do I have a choice?” Angel sips the coffee and moans.
I get a little warm weirdly.
“You okay?” he asks.
I put a hand on my forehead. Do I have a fever? “Probably just drank too much.”
He makes a face. “You never drink too much.”
“And who kept pouring me shots?” I press my lips together, being just as bitchy as he can be.
“Okay, a little my fault.” He wraps both hands around the mug, then presses his forehead into the table.
I sit down next to him and hook my foot in his chair, dragging it closer.
“Hey!” He jolts up like he’s going to fall out of the seat. When he sees my grin, he rolls his eyes. “Sorry you’re hungover.”
I put my arm around him. “I’ll be fine, but I want to check in and make sure you’ll be okay.”
“Yes, after coffee I’ll rally, I promise.” He leans into me, and the casual intimacy cures any worries lingering about last night and how today will go. “Thanks for trusting me.” We’re close, so I whisper it, nearly into the side of his temple.
Archangel’s entire body stiffens, and he starts to groan but snaps his mouth shut and sits up.
“What time is it? I need to shower, or we’re going to be late.
I forgot my mom wants us there early to help with things.
” He shoves to his feet and pushes his fingers into his messy hair.
“Sorry. I need to get moving.” He offers a weak smile, then retreats to the bathroom.
Did I do something wrong?
Maybe it’s just stress.