Chapter Eleven #3
The fluttery sensation filled my chest as a fever rocked my entire body. I sweltered in the heat my own skin radiated.
And no matter how much respite we got from not barking at each other for one delightful moment, I couldn’t let the fucker just take what he wanted.
When Beckett dragged my lower lip between his teeth, I found a semblance of resolve and pushed him away. “What are you…?”
Beckett stepped back and wiped our kisses off his lips with the back of his hand. For a moment, I expected him to apologize. I should have known better. “Can’t you just shut up, Jones?”
“What?” I applied all my frustrations to that one syllable.
“Words keep failing us, Caden. Just…shut up for once.” There was that dazzling spark of mischief in his eyes when he spoke these words. One corner of his lips dragged up into a lopsided grin, and he waited. Suddenly, Beckett Partridge was an example of godly patience.
His pouty lips were stretched thin. His drying hair was an unruly mess of floppy locks. His cheeks were touched with pink.
I took him in and scanned every detail of his body, buying myself time to figure this out.
But the truth was, an infinite meditative trance wouldn’t have brought me an inch closer to an answer.
And when my gaze dropped low enough to see the thick outline of his erection pitching a tent from his sweatpants, I knew thinking was a lost cause.
I swallowed far more audibly than I’d intended.
My chest trembled while a storm of emotions rocked me.
Every nerve-ending I had was on fire. This tingling that flooded my body soon morphed into pleasure aches.
Sudden warmth spread outward from my groin and I felt myself relax. “Okay,” I whispered. “No more talking.”
Beckett closed the distance between us again, one hand rising to hold me by my throat.
I slapped it away, catching his wrist, and then tugged him into my hold. If he wanted to play rough with me, he’d receive the same treatment he gave. It was the best kind of fun, especially if it meant I got to slap Beckett around with no hard feelings.
Weeks of sexual frustration and years of hate came together in my chest. Their only target was the hot fucker in front of me.
I wasn’t sure he knew what he was getting into.
I wasn’t sure he’d ever done this before.
Perhaps, in secret, in hotel rooms such as this, but I had no way of knowing. No more talking. No more words.
I held him closer, one hand on the back of his head, fist closing around his unkempt hair.
My other hand moved to his armpit, then dragged down the side of his rib cage.
When I kissed him, it was a vengeful, hateful kiss.
It was the crescendo of an eternity of competition.
He thought he could kiss roughly, but he was about to find out just how wrong he had been.
I spun us around easily as Beckett fumbled in the new reality of being controlled rather than in charge.
He bumped against the door with his whole body, breath bursting out of his lungs.
He inhaled just before I leaned in to claim what was mine.
He’d had no right to the kisses he’d stolen from me and I wanted them back with a loan shark’s interest.
As we battled for dominance, grappling one another’s arms, shoulders, hips, and throats, the heat that I had never found between us blazed hot enough to melt all the ice of our ordinary encounters.
In the back of my mind, I was desperate to ask him what the hell this was.
I needed to know when the fuckboy he had always been became a slut for a guy’s hard kisses. And not just any guy.
Just as badly, I needed to know when my desires spread wide enough to let Beckett be an option.
The way my cock throbbed when I thrust my hips forward and rubbed my crotch against his told me he was more than just an option. He was pressing way too many buttons for this to be a safe game.
“Take that fucking thing off before I rip it,” he growled over my lips, grunting and gasping under my pressure.
My lips were bruised. They tingled as I dragged them over his mouth, letting my tongue dip between his teeth and touch the tip of his.
I swiped one hand between us and unbuttoned my shirt halfway down.
Beckett’s hands quickly explored my muscular torso as I pulled back to finish undressing.
But the trace of reason still remained within me. And I hated it.
If only it had died when we agreed to stop talking, I could have my way with my enemy and not feel a bit of guilt.
He wanted it, after all. He was desperate for it.
He pulsed all over, shaking with impatience.
I was sure that if I touched his crotch now, he would spill like a virgin and beg me to go again.
With my hands on the middle of his torso, holding a button on the verge of a decision, I stepped back.
“What is it, now?” Beckett rasped. His voice was sore with lust.
I shook my head, avoiding his eyes as much as I avoided his torso. If I looked at him now, I would break and force him down to his knees. I would fill his mouth and throat without regret, all under the excuse that he’d asked for it. But I didn’t want to be that guy.
Not even to Beckett Fucking Partridge.
“I can’t do it,” I whispered hoarsely.
Beckett stepped toward me, a hand shamelessly feeling my aching, throbbing cock. “I don’t see any problems.”
I snorted at his crass sense of humor and moved his hand away, no matter how hard it was to break the contact. Why did he have to be so blindingly hot? His good looks had been annoying me for two years straight. “You’ve never been with a guy, right?”
Beckett rolled his eyes. “So what?”
I nodded. It figured. “Are you gay? Bi? Pan?”
Beckett held a cool gaze on my face. “What difference does that make? You’re horny, I’m game. Maybe we can finally find some common ground.”
I balked at that. “That’s not the kind of common ground we need, Partridge. You need to figure yourself out. And I need to avoid messing around with a bi-curious teammate.”
“Don’t…say that like it’s a bad thing,” Beckett said with seething rage.
“What’s your endgame?” I asked in return. “To fuck me? Because you’re not topping me, sunshine. And I’ll bet you anything you’ve never thought of getting topped. Or what it takes.” I added the last part in a mutter, but he picked up on it, his frown deepening. “I need some air.”
Beckett’s face twisted in scorn. He turned away from me bitterly and marched up to the balcony door. He pulled the white curtain to the side, gazing at the harbor. “You’re gonna hook up with a stranger.”
I wasn’t. The wish to screw around with anyone other than this damned brat had already left me. I only needed to avoid making things infinitely more complicated. “No. But can you tame your jealousy?” The irritation spilled out of me without any filter. “It’s getting old.”
“Jealousy?” he asked in a tight voice. “You flatter yourself, Jones.”
I finished buttoning up my shirt as he spoke. His words were designed to bite but not cut too deep. I took them quietly, then left the room for some desperately needed peace. I filled my lungs with the late afternoon air coming off the lake.
The absolute truth of it was that I hadn’t wished to shame him.
But shaming him a little in turning his advances down was infinitely better for us both than using him and getting tangled in confusion.
If sleeping with him was half as hot as kissing him had been, there was a real danger of wanting more when he ran away again.
And if he could rock my world and rile up my emotions this much with only his lips, then I was wise to construct walls and protect myself from his influence. The power he would hold over me otherwise was too great and dangerous to imagine.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and slouched against the chilly gusts of wind. It ruffled my dark hair and made my eyes sting and water. The heat still came off my body. My pants were still too tight for my dick. And I was grinding my teeth so hard that only pain stopped me.
I could have been up in my room, getting back at Beckett in all the best ways. But no. I just had to be a fucking gentleman.
And somewhat of a coward.