Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cooper
I stay in the shower for way longer than necessary.
Not from nerves… Okay, a little from nerves.
I mean, we haven’t hooked up in ages. But every time I imagine what’s coming—Declan’s hands on me, his mouth, touching me like that—my body reacts instantly, hot and fast, impossible to control under the spray.
I had to brace my hand on the cool tile and count backwards, trying to get myself in check before I embarrassed the hell out of myself before we even started.
Probably didn’t help that getting myself “ready” was one of the hottest experiences of my life.
By the time I finally shut off the water, my skin’s flushed, pulse doing its own drum solo, and my cock has decided it will stay in a permanent state of semi-arousal, tenting the front of my towel.
Swiping steam from the mirror, I stare at myself like I’m expecting to see a different version looking back.
My curls are damp, my cheeks red, and there’s a look in my eyes I haven’t seen before.
Unadulterated hunger.
Raking a hand through my hair, I turn off the bathroom light and head toward Declan’s room. My heart’s hammering from the knowledge that tonight’s going to be something I’ll remember for the rest of my life, from the want coursing through me.
He’s standing by the bedside table, the lamp washing him and the freshly made bed next to him in gold. As he looks up at me, he goes still, the air shifting to something more charged.
“Hey,” I say quietly, suddenly hyperaware of the terrycloth around my waist keeping me decent.
His throat works on a swallow, his eyes darting to his bedroom door.
“Give me two minutes.”
I nod, watching him leave, the sound of the shower turning on seconds later filtering across the hallway. Something tightens low in my stomach, the thought of him getting ready for me sending molten heat through my blood.
Left alone, I let out a breath and glance around his room like I’ve never been in here before.
Which is ridiculous. I basically grew up here, but tonight, it feels…
different. Loaded. Walking over to his dresser, I run my fingers along the top, my gaze snagging on the polaroids wedged into the mirror, ones from high school, from his junior hockey days, each one a memory, a reminder of how far we’ve come.
I huff out a startled laugh, scrubbing a hand down my chest, suddenly feeling weird about standing half-naked in his room.
“It’s just sex,” I mutter under my breath, heading toward his bed. “You’ve literally had your mouth on him, so why are you acting like you’ve never fooled around before?”
Sinking onto the mattress, my fingers smooth the comforter unconsciously, the scent of his detergent rising around me.
“He’s your best friend,” I whisper to myself. “You trust him.”
And I do. God, I do.
Palming the front of the towel, I groan, jittery energy buzzing under my skin. Jumping to my feet, I stalk the floor, unable to sit still.
“Get a grip, Cooper,” I hiss. “You’re being st—”
“Talking to yourself?”
Every nerve in my body snaps awake. I turn slowly, and the moment my eyes land on him, my little pep talk evaporates.
Standing in a towel slung low on his hips, steam still clings to his skin, glistening on the ridges of his chest, my mouth watering, desperate to trace every exposed inch with my tongue.
His hair’s a little mussed, casting shadows on his face from the desk light, each sharp line more defined, like someone sculpted every inch of him out of pure want.
My mouth goes dry. Holy. Freaking. Shit.
Even without the rigorous workouts he’s been used to, he’s still been able to maintain his body—a little leaner, sure, but still wildly attractive.
I stare, my eyes snagging on a droplet sliding over his abs in slow motion like it’s trying to mess with me, catching in that dark line of hair disappearing under the cotton, and I swear, I nearly forget how to breathe.
He shifts, just a tiny redistribution of his weight, and my gaze lowers instinctively to the scar on his knee, the long, angry line slicing across it, a harsh reminder of everything he’s been through. And that just makes the rest of him hit even harder. Strong, scarred, beautiful.
Familiar and brand new all at once.
God, my pulse is going insane.
“You okay?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. “We don’t have to do this if—”
“I’m fine,” I blurt as my gaze meets his. “Just…nervous. In a good way.”
His eyes soften, jerking his chin. “Come here.”
I go willingly. His hand gently cups the side of my face like he’s checking if I want this, his thumb brushing my cheek then my lower lip, sending a full-body shiver through me.
“You can tell me to stop. Any time.”
“I won’t.” It comes out in a whisper, embarrassingly honest.
He steps in before I can overthink anything, his nose brushing mine, breath warm against my mouth.
Our lips meet, slow at first, teasing before his tongue caresses mine.
I melt into him, my hand flattening over the solid heat of his chest. His other hand slides down to my waist, fingers dipping under the hem of the towel, tracing a line of skin.
“Still okay?” he murmurs against me, checking in again.
I nod fast. “More than okay.”
He smiles, in a gentle way I swear I’ve caught a glimpse of before, but never so open and unguarded. My stomach flips as he presses closer, the last inch of space gone, his bare chest touching mine, skin-to-skin, sparking zaps straight to my toes.
“Coop,” he says my name low, reverent. “If anything feels too much, or too fast, you tell me. We don’t have to rush.”
“I know,” I whisper, my heart trying to beat out of my chest. “Please. Just…touch me.”
Flicking his fingers against the knot at my waist, his eyes never leave mine as the towel falls to the floor with a soft thud. One hand finds my hip, thumb rubbing in slow, torturous circles, the other wrapping around my cock, and my eyes roll shut at how good it feels.
Declan exhales a shaky breath, like he’s the one who’s overwhelmed, and leans in, kissing me hard, all tongue and need. Tugging at his towel, I push it from his body, fingers gliding up and down his chest, mapping every line before cupping his balls and rolling them in my palm.
I groan into his mouth, deepening the kiss as the hand on my hip moves to cradle my nape, holding me to him like he’s afraid I’ll stop. I thrust up into his fist, sliding my hand upward from his balls, thumb teasing his slit, collecting the pre-cum and smearing it over the head.
The backs of my legs hit the mattress, and I grunt, barely aware we’d even moved.
“Still with me?”
“You don’t need to keep asking,” I tell him, breathless. “I want this. With you.”
The relief on his face is almost dizzying before he leaves open-mouthed kisses from my mouth to my neck, guiding me onto the bed. It dips beneath me, and I sink back without thinking, ready for him.
His lips trail lower, hand sliding up my thigh, traveling to where I’m already throbbing, his exhale against my skin telling me everything.
He’s about to ruin me in the best possible way. And I can’t fucking wait.