Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
NASH
I can’t believe we’ve wasted all this time not doing this because I thought he didn’t want me. He wants me and he’s proven it ten different ways tonight just by being with me and supporting me at the championship game.
I can taste the musk of myself on his lips as he slides his tongue over my teeth.
When Wyatt breaks our kiss, I say, “I’ve been tested since my last partner and I’m on birth control.”
“Okay,” he replies, but it comes out choked like he knows exactly what that means.
I sit up so I can kneel over him and take in his naked body laid out in front of me.
I take my time soaking all of him in. All bare skin, only his slutty little chain with my initial decorating him.
His chest is not only broad, but deep. He’s thick all the way from his shoulders to his chest to his torso, down to his magnificent cock standing ready for me.
I love a man with some meat on him. You can keep those perfectly chiseled abs; I don’t want them when there are so many other parts of this man to appreciate.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he breathes, sitting up to wrap his arms around me.
“I know.”
“Can I fuck you now?” His gaze is on my breasts, his hands running along the course of my back.
“Yes,” I whisper.
I let myself be moved willingly as he pulls me by the thighs so we’re lined up perfectly.
Then with a gentle hand under my butt, he turns to flip us, laying me on my stomach.
A sharp inhale breaks through my lips when the tip of him pierces me.
He swipes his thumbs over my hips in a comforting motion.
“You can do it. You were made to take it.”
I’ve never felt so overwhelmingly filled in my life. There’s not a man, or a dildo, that’s ever compared to this. After he ruined me with his tongue, I didn’t think I could get any higher, but here I am flying over the skyscrapers in downtown, barreling headfirst into another orgasm.
He punches into me from behind, and between his strength and the pleasure, it’s all I can do to keep my hips up for him as he drives me farther and farther into the mattress.
I keep my face in the sheets to cover the sounds of my moans while he draws almost completely out before rocking back in.
A steady, perfect rhythm that drives me mad.
“Nash, I can’t–” His rhythm is stilted, like he’s so out of his mind with lust he can no longer find the beat.
“Faster.”
He immediately abandons whatever timing he had left.
I think we’re actually moving the entire bed, and he’ll have to push it back into place when we’re done, but for now I focus on the feeling in my core where a warmth quickly grows and comes in a wave over me.
I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and focus on the feeling of his cock hitting the perfect spot.
With one last hard snap of his hips, Wyatt fills me, and I follow him over the edge.
Wyatt leans his massive body over mine, covering me from shoulders to ass with his weight and warmth. I can feel his chest heave as he tries to find his breath. I bring one hand back over my shoulder and rest it against his cheek.
“Good?” he asks.
“So fucking good.”
Now that I’ve had him, I’m not sure that I can go back to being just friends. The knowledge of how good his dick is might have ruined my ability to tease him about bringing his teammates home like I did on the first day I moved in. It’s not funny now that I know it can feel like this.
Tomorrow we’ll have a lot to discuss, but tonight…I have no intentions of leaving this bed.
When I wake up in the morning Wyatt is still crashed beside me, but my mind is consumed by exactly one thought.
What now?
In every single aspect of my life.
We just won the first ever Pro Volleyball Federation championship, but what now?
I just got my split of one-million dollars. What now?
Wyatt and I had sex last night, but what now?
One step at a time, Nash.
I’m an international and national professional champion.
I’m an NCAA champion. I’ve been a pro for six years.
What’s the future for me? The eight-month break between PVF seasons is a long time.
Most players fill it by playing on tournament teams to try and earn enough points to play in the Volleyball National League, or Team USA if it’s close to an Olympic year.
The path to those teams is long and winding, overly complicated for reasons no player understands, but I can do all of that if I want to.
No matter what, I have a team and a league to come back to next year.
My one and only goal coming back home was to make sure this sees another year. I’ve done that. What else do I want?
What’s wrong with me that I can’t take this for what it is—victory—and enjoy it?
Why am I wired to feel like nothing is ever enough?
I wanted to play in college, and I went D1.
I wanted to win a championship—I did. I wanted to play professionally, and I did at one of the best clubs in the world.
I came home to play for the PVF not knowing what to expect on a new team in a brand-new league, and we won the first-ever championship.
Everything I’ve ever put my mind to, I’ve accomplished.
So why does it feel like I’ve done nothing? That it all means nothing?
My mind jumps from one thing to the next.
The money. I’m not exactly sure how much it will end up being after taxes and other bullshit, but it will definitely be enough for the deposit on an apartment.
Knowing I have that in my back pocket brings a certain level of comfort to what Wyatt and I did last night.
This fake dating thing has felt more like real dating for the last couple of months…
I just haven’t been prepared to inspect what that means.
What happens if Wyatt regrets everything, and I lose my best friend—despite our pinky promise?
What happens if we fake break up and are both in Houston and have to see each other?
It’s a big city, but that doesn’t stop you from running into people at the grocery store.
I know Audrey’s family found out she was seeing Noah when her sister saw them together at the movies.
I love the area Wyatt is in. I probably would get an apartment close to here.
We’d have to share the same H-E-B. At least I know that if I’m not with him next season, the Moons proved themselves and the stands will still be full without the Hurricanes.
The residuals from this season’s win will be enough that our little stadium isn’t an empty fishbowl echoing around us.
We’re going to be on ESPN! My stomach does a little flip at that. At least if everything comes crashing down around me and Wyatt, I’ll still have the Moons.
I steel my resolve right then. If things go south with Wyatt, I’m not stuck here. I’m not damning this immediately, but it’s always good to have a backup plan.
“Good morning,” Wyatt says, his voice rough like coffee grounds. I swing my eyes from the ceiling to his face. “Sleep well?”
“Very,” I reply. Between the orgasms and the nice mattress and his comforting warmth, I slept way better in here then I have been across the hall.
He slings an arm over my stomach, lying on his side with a curious look on his face. “What were you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” I say evenly, trying to hide that I was basically rethinking my entire life.
He smiles like he knows he’s letting me get away with something, but leans to press a kiss to my still-bare shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget last night.”
I roll over to face him. “Me either.”
“What now?”
“What do you think?”
We’re already fake dating, it’s not that crazy to add sex into the mix.
It’s almost the natural next step. There’s six more days until his brother’s wedding, and when we get on that plane back to Houston next Sunday, this whole thing will be over.
One week of hot sex isn’t going to ruin a friendship if all of this hasn’t already.
Right?
“I think we should amend our rules.” I can’t help the flush that creeps up my cheeks. “I think we should be able to sleep together for the remainder of our agreement.”
“Can’t get enough, can you?” He teases, smile full of self-satisfaction.
I roll my eyes in reply. “It was all right.”
He’s quick as he sits up to tickle my bare ribs.
“All right? I’ll show you just all right.
” I wiggle under him trying to squirm away, my breath coming fast as I fight through my laughter.
I feel a rush of air across my chest and Wyatt immediately stills.
When I open my eyes, he’s staring at my breasts now bared to him, the sheet previously covering them lost in our play fighting.
Neither of us breathe, and he moves his hands from my ribs back to the middle of my chest. He hesitates there. “Yes to more of this?” he asks, looking for permission.
“Yes,” I whisper.
His hands move so slowly it feels like I’ve taken one-hundred breaths before his palms cover my already-peaked nipples.
And slow is how we make it. Last night was a whirlwind of anticipation and adrenaline. Heights fueled by celebration. This is more like lounging. Like when you know you’ve got all morning to lie in bed. No plans making you get up in a hurry. Leisurely. Deliberate.
Exactly how I want to spend my morning, with the man I’ve fallen for.