Chapter 34 Like a Sleeping Bear
Thirty-Four
Like a Sleeping Bear
Beck
It’s the dead of night when I slip through Forest’s unlocked door, kicking off my shoes to move as quietly as I can manage after a few beers with the team. He’s left the kitchen lights on the lowest dimmer setting for me, and I flip them off as I pad toward his bedroom.
The door’s open, and there he is—sprawled across the bed like a sleeping bear, his bare body covered by the blankets to his waist.
I don’t get that many opportunities to observe him like this. Hell, I don’t get that many opportunities to be in the same post code as Forest. But my heart just doesn’t care. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and the yearning I feel for him doesn’t ever take a day off.
I strip down to my boxer briefs and slide under the covers as carefully as possible. The mattress dips slightly, and I hold my breath, but Forest doesn’t stir. He’s really out—mouth slightly open, one arm flung over his head. It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.
Settling against the pillow, I give myself one more long look. His beard looks soft, and I have to resist the urge to run my hand across it. There’s a small scar on his shoulder that I want to ask about someday.
The urge to touch him is overwhelming, but I don’t want to wake him. He needs his sleep. So I close my eyes and let the warmth of his body next to mine sink in.
I’m almost asleep when Forest shifts beside me, rolling over until we’re face to face. His eyes flutter open, unfocused and sleepy.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi,” he whispers back. “You should have woken me up.”
“Didn’t want to disturb you,” I say, already feeling my eyes closing again. “You were sacked out.”
“Sorry.”
I smile without opening my eyes. “I didn’t mind. It’s late. They took me out for a beer. Not at my favorite bar, but a guy can’t have everything.”
He chuckles softly and slings an arm over me, and fuck, that feels good. Like I belong here.
“You have fun tonight?” he asks.
“You know it.”
“Any nerves?”
I shake my head against the pillow. “I knew Walcott wouldn’t blow his chance to keep me on the bench. He’s healthy, and he’s having a great season.”
“Dare I ask what’s wrong with Volkov?”
“His back flares up sometimes. Don’t tell a soul, okay? The team will never call me again.”
“I’m a rock.” He kisses my jaw, and my whole body comes alive. “Especially when you’re around.”
That gets my attention. I press up on an elbow and look down at him, trying to read his expression in the dim light. “Is that so? Show me.”
He flips the covers back to reveal his naked body and his growing semi, and I hiss through my teeth.
Then, because I’m not a fool, I kick off my boxers and straddle him.
“Fuck,” he says, running a hand up my chest. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Miss me when I’m gone?” I place my hands on his big shoulders and rock my hips.
“You know I do,” he grunts.
I don’t, in fact, know that for sure. I mean—I know Forest enjoys my company. I know he enjoys my body, which is why he’s rock hard already and pulling me down for a kiss.
In fact, I suspect he likes me a lot. Which is why Scully texted me a pic of Forest staring at the TV screen tonight when he was supposed to be mixing drinks.
But Forest won’t admit how he feels. Not in words. I get a soft, hungry sigh as our mouths come together. And I get his greedy hands all over my body as we kiss. Those big, blunt fingers exploring my ass. His soft beard against my face.
The thump of his heart against mine.
But this is all I’m going to get. No I love yous. No let’s meet each other’s families.
Regardless, when he takes control, rolling on top of me, I spread myself for him anyway. I do it willingly. I accept the terms of our arrangement with each brush of my cock against his.
I do it because I know that getting two thirds of Forest is better than getting a hundred percent of anyone else.
Do I wish things were different? Yes. But it doesn’t make me a fool. It makes me a realist. Because there’s nothing more real than the heated look on his face as he yanks the bedside table open and reaches for the lube. Or the perfect, rumbly groans he makes as he pounds into me.
It helps that I know we’re both getting more than we bargained for. I would have done anything for a single night with him. But I’ve gotten so much more than that.
And so has Forest. Again—not a fool. He gives himself to me in spite of his better judgment. Till the day I die, I’ll carry the memory of the look on his face when I kissed him that first time. The shock. The excitement. The pure hunger.
Staring up at his sweaty face. I see my own awe reflected back at me. He’s trying to resist. He’s trying to hold on. “Fuck, Becker,” he pants. “You’re making me—”
“Come,” I gasp. “Do it.”
He bites his kiss-bruised lip, and his face fills with peace. The groan sounds like a prayer.
And that’s it for me, too. Forest just does it for me, every time. Even as he reaches for my cock, I erupt all over us both.
Afterward, we’re nothing but two wet noodles in a heap in the center of his bed. Breath sawing in and out. Sweat cooling.
This is almost my favorite part. Forest goes so still beside me. He’s stroking my hand absently. His hip touches mine.
“You undo me,” he whispers, and my heart skips a beat. It’s so close to perfect.
I don’t say it back, because I have to be careful. Always. I just squeeze his hand instead.
“Gotta deal with this condom,” he says sleepily.
My sex-addled brain says, “Why’d you bother, anyway?” He’s gone without before. Well, once. But we don’t need condoms to be safe.
I can tell I’ve fucked up when his forehead creases. “It’s respectful.”
“You know I’m not sleeping around.” In for a penny, etcetera.
“But you could be,” he says quietly. “I got no right to assume otherwise.”
For once, I’m glad he gets up and goes into the bathroom, because I don’t know if I can control my expression.
I’m the idiot who brought it up, after all. I have no right to feel hurt by this. Not tonight of all nights.
Be cool, James. Everything is fine. Everything is great.
Five minutes later he brings me a warm, damp cloth to clean up, and we arrange ourselves in his bed to sleep.
“Beck,” he whispers softly, a hand on my hip. “Congrats on your big night.”
“Thanks,” I say, moving my feet to tangle with his.
For some stupid reason, my eyes are stinging.