Breakaway

20. Pope

Chapter 20

Pope

I thought watching Hayden enter a room naked after a shower would be the death of me, but him stalking through his bedroom door with his wrinkled shirt half-unbuttoned and his pants unzipped to display his heavy cock that’s still wet from my mouth, is my undoing. I actually hear something tear as I claw off my own pants and underwear, the fabric getting caught on one ankle before I manage to kick free. I don’t take my eyes off the adonis in front of me as he smirks at the display. I don’t care how eager or needy I look. I want this man to fuck me right fucking now and I don’t care if I’m showing it.

“Hayden,” I croak, already lying on the bed and spreading my legs. I remember what it had felt like to have his fingers in me. I want that again. I want more than that—I want his huge cock splitting me open. I don’t even care if it hurts.

“God, look at you.” He squeezes the base of his cock like he’s trying to get it under control. It would make me feel better about my own horniness to see he’s having a hard time too, if I had the mental capacity to care at the moment. “You’re just ready for it, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

I nod. “So ready. I—fuck, Hay. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Picturing—picturing it.”

“Yeah?” He releases his cock, his capable fingers finding the remaining buttons of his shirt instead. They work slowly. Teasingly. How is that so fucking hot? This man is going to be the death of me. “What have you been picturing exactly?”

The mental capacity to care comes back full-force, leaving me speechless with embarrassment. I can’t say it. God, how embarrassing would that be to actually say it?

“Tell me, Pope,” he all but orders, his voice low and growly. A shiver races down my spine before seeming to tickle along my cock enough to have it twitching.

I’m powerless.

I’ve always been with him, it seems.

“It’s sometimes with me like this, on my back, and you—you hold my legs apart and fuck me.” Another shiver runs through me at those final words spoken from my own lips. I feel warm precum drip onto my stomach. “Sometimes you make me lower myself onto you. Make me fuck—fuck myself.” I close my eyes, the images playing against the backs of my eyelids like they have been nearly every minute of the fucking day lately.

“Look at me,” he immediately says.

I do it, unable to stop myself from obeying. Not that I really want to stop myself. I like this, like him being in charge of me. It makes me feel jittery, yet weightless. It makes me feel small, but in a safe, controlled way. It makes me feel fucking good .

His eyes are hot with what can only be described as lust when our gazes meet again. He nods, seeming pleased with my obedience. Heat pools in my gut at that. I think I’m going to like pleasing him. I think I’m going to like pleasing him very much.

“Count to ten for me, Ethan.”

I blink at him. It’s such an odd request that I find myself hesitating despite how easy it would be. When he raises his eyebrow though, I obey regardless of the strangeness of it. As I count, he finishes removing his shirt and drapes it over the back of a chair he has tucked in the corner by a small bookshelf. When I get to ten, he smiles. “Is your mind a little clearer now?”

“It was always clear,” I tell him, my cheeks burning. Was I really seeming so desperate that he thought I wasn’t clear-headed? Wait, was I so desperate I wasn’t clear-headed? Jesus, that’s embarrassing…

He doesn’t point out that my words are bullshit, but his smirk has the same effect. I blush harder. My eyes dart away from him, trying to hide me, but I force them back before he can tell me to look at him again. That urge to obey him seems to still be stuck in me despite the clear-headedness. I don’t entirely mind.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d find a queer-friendly doctor in the area and didn’t have much time to look into it before it was time for me to move, since Ian needed me to come so quickly, so I squeezed in an appointment with my doctor back home before leaving. I did a full workup, all of the results coming back negative. I haven’t been with anyone since then. Would you like to see the report?”

Oh.

Oh, this talk. Right. Jules warned me it’d come up.

Jules prepared me, even.

“No, I—I trust you.” I curl my hands into fists. “Um, I’m also… negative. And I’m on PrEP now.”

His head cocks, his lips forming a confused smile. “Really?”

“Yeah. Jules dragged me to the clinic this morning, actually. He greatly enjoyed reading pamphlets to me in the waiting room, much to a few others’ enjoyment as well.” I force a smile, hoping to hide how cringeworthy the entire experience—and therefore this conversation—was. “I have free condoms too, if you wanna use them.”

“See, that was what I was about to ask you.”

“Oh.” I glance at his cock for some reason—I guess probably because we’re talking about what will be on it, or not on it, when he puts it inside of me. Heat builds in my stomach again, bringing my slightly softening cock back to full hardness. “No thanks.”

“No? You’re sure? I don’t mind—”

“I want you to come inside of me,” I blurt.

Oh god.

Kill me now.

Except, he groans, and when I look up at his face I find his eyes heavy-lidded with lust and his lips parted like he’s breathing so heavily he needs the extra room. Oh .

“I’ll come inside of you,” he nearly growls, shoving his pants to his ankles before I can even blink. “Fucking hell, Ethan Pope, I’ll come inside of you so many times you’ll forget what it’s like to not be leaking.”

I whimper.

His grin is predatory as he crawls onto the bed between my parted legs. “Would you like that, sweetheart?”

“Please.” I reach for him, my fingers grabbing desperately at his shoulders first before I can get the back of his neck and pull him closer. He allows it with a soft chuckle, even bringing his mouth to mine in a quick, but deep kiss. I pant against his lips and beg a second time. “ Please .”

“Don’t worry.” He pulls away, turning his face to the left as he reaches over to the bedside table. There’s a slight creaking before he straightens above me with a bottle of lube in his hand. I swallow, reality sinking in. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so excited and terrified. It’s like the night before training camp, but amplified with deeper emotions.

“I will make you fuck yourself on my cock one day soon,” he warns. “But for your first time, I want you to be able to just relax and let yourself enjoy my cock inside of you.”

I watch as he opens the lube bottle and drizzles the liquid onto his fingers. Two of them. No, three, once he rubs them together. Is it really possible to relax when you’re that full?

Without realizing it, I ask the damn question out loud. Or at least a version of it, because he answers. “It is. Are you nervous, baby?”

“A little,” I admit.

“That’s okay. I’ll make it feel good, I promise.” He runs the backs of his knuckles along my thigh, a soothing touch instead of sexual. “But we can always stop, whenever you want.”

I knew that, I did, but hearing it helps. Being touched by him helps too—the soothing touch, I mean. The sexual won’t be too shabby either, though. In fact, he could really get a move on now. With my nerves weakening, my lust is coming back with a vengeance.

“I’m ready,” I tell him.

“Not yet.” He spreads my legs before pushing them back until I’m exposed to him, my hard cock pressed against my stomach. “But once you’ve taken a few of my fingers, you will be.”

I groan, but don’t argue further. I’m too nervous about that big cock actually fitting inside of me. I’m smart enough to know that I should take whatever prep he offers, even if I’m impatient to get him inside of me.

I take his first finger easily enough, the feeling both foreign and vaguely familiar. I prepare myself for him to touch my prostate like he did in the hotel, but he either can’t find it or is avoiding it. Who am I kidding? This is Hayden Wallace—he knows exactly what he’s doing, the gorgeous, controlling bastard.

My frustration at the revelation that he’s going to avoid that spot that feels so fucking good is forgotten as he presses a second finger into me, using the first to hook along the side of my rim and gently pull it to the side to make room. My breath catches, my eyes blinking rapidly as my mind tries to process how fucking full that feels. Two. I have two of his fingers inside of me. Those long, elegant fingers that are so fucking competent when he does his job.

“That’s—” I stop, shaking my head. Words are a little hard at the moment as he strokes my walls with both fingers at once. I find myself glad he’s avoiding my prostate. I’m not sure I’d survive so much pressure against that spot. I’d come for sure.

“Good?” he asks, sounding amused, but when I look at him I find slight concern in the way his eyebrows are drooping.

“Good,” I promise him.

He smiles, pulling his fingers out a little before gently pushing them back in deep. It’s different with our eyes locked. My face burns. He tsks when I quickly look away, his fingers scissoring almost too hard. “None of that. Keep looking at me.”

With a shiver, I obey him. Our eyes lock. He holds my gaze as he scissors the fingers again and begins pressing a third into the space between them.

“Oh.” I cling to the sheets, my thighs shaking. That’s a lot. That’s— wow . Full.

So fucking full .

“Breathe,” he murmurs before his mouth finds my sensitive nipple, tongue eagerly working against the bud until it feels impossible to obey the order. I manage somehow, though, pulling in shaky breaths as he works his fingers inside of me. He’s still avoiding my prostate. I’m too far gone to be pouty about it.

“Am I ready yet?” I pant.

He chuckles, but carefully slides his fingers out of me. “Yeah, baby. You’re ready.”

My stomach swoops. I want this— fuck do I want it, I want it so bad —but the nerves are here in full force now. They only get worse as he pours lube into the palm of his hand and strokes his cock to spread it around. I bite down on my lip to keep from asking something stupid like if he’s sure it’ll actually fit. It looks even bigger than before.

“Ready?” he asks, just as the tip of his cock nudges up against my hole.

I try to smile, but it’s shaky. “Yeah.”

“It’s okay to be nervous, baby. Tell me if it hurts. It shouldn’t, okay? Burn a little, yeah, and some pressure, but no real pain.” He grips the root of his cock to adjust the angle and shifts his weight forward a little. “Nice and slow,” he murmurs.

I nod, my eyes locked on his chest. I’m in the middle of trying to remember how to breathe when my muscles tense without my permission. It makes the tip of him feel impossibly big as it tries stretching me open.

“ Ahhh .” I squeeze my eyes shut as the pressure increases, making me feel all hot and shivery inside. “Oh…”

“You okay?” he asks as he moves his hips in a circle like he’s trying to convince my rim to loosen and let him in. Is he still not in? Jesus fuck. What’s all that pressure, then? “Ethan?”

“Yeah. Ah. Fuck .” I laugh humorlessly, breathlessly, my face so hot I’m afraid it might melt right off. “Thought—thought it’d be easier.”

He chuckles, his eyes warm when I look up at him. “You’re just too tense. Nervous. Take a breath for me, baby. Relax. It’ll be so much easier then, I promise.”

“I know. I—you had three fingers in me just fine. Why—why won’t it…” I fist the sheets with a growl of frustration.

“Hey, none of that.” His cock moves away from my opening, easily enough to make it clear just how much he wasn’t inside of me. He shifts forward, forcing my left leg to press up against my side, his lube-free hand cupping my face. With a shift of my chin by his thumb, I’m forced to look into his eyes. They’re serious, but not unkind. “Breathe for me, baby. You’ve got yourself all wound up. Just breathe. Trust me, okay? Have I ever hurt you?”

“No,” I whisper.

“Look.” He reaches down to where his cock is pressed against my left ass cheek. I twitch at the feeling of his fingers back at my hole, but my hole lets them in like a knife through butter. Hell, it sucks the damn fingers in, greedy for them. Oh god, that’s still so good. He chuckles. “See? Feels good, right?”

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

“Breathe for me. Breathe as you feel these sit inside of you.” He kisses my cheek. Then my jaw. Then my earlobe. He whispers in my ear, low and dirty, “Breathe while I touch this.” I jolt as he presses his fingers against my prostate. His other arm wraps beneath my back, holding me close to his chest. Trapping me. His fingers move harder. Faster. “Breathe as I light you up inside.”

Fuck, he’s right, it’s nothing short than electricity, what he’s doing to me in there. This is different than before. This isn’t preparation, isn’t stretching. This is fucking me with his fingers. Light me up indeed.

“Breathe as I push you to the edge,” he growls, his thumb starting to rub slick circles between my taut balls and my stretched rim. The sounds I can hear myself making are embarrassingly high and needy. For some fucked up reason, hearing them makes my cock throb even harder. “Breathe for me, Ethan.”

“I’m gonna come,” I warn him, recognizing that feeling inside of my gut, even if it feels slower than usual. Warm, but an oozing warm. Not bright, sharp heat, but a melting instead.

“I’m gonna—” His fingers slide out and his cock presses in, all between one breath and the next. “—co— ahhh! ”

He slides all the way inside, helped by my greedy body practically tugging him in. My body zings as it registers the stretch, the weight, the heat of him. It has my back arching and my toes curling and my head whirring. It has my next exhale coming out as a sob. It has my cock pulsing, just seconds from spilling.

“Yeah, there we go, sweetheart. Better?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Oh .” I tilt my hips and he slides in further. His stomach rubs against my cock. “Oh, oh, ooooh .”

I come, just like that. He groans as he starts rolling his hips to slowly fuck me through the orgasm, moving just enough to provide me some much needed internal touch without overwhelming me.

The moment I come down enough to grasp reality, I bring my lips to his. I don’t care if it’s greedy, I need more —more of him, of us, of this.

“Fuck me,” I beg. And it’s definitely begging, not an order. I’m a pathetic, whiney, needy mess right now and I don’t give two shits. He’s in charge. I want him to be in charge. “Please? Please fuck me?”

“Oh, you do beg so fucking pretty for me,” he murmurs, his hips moving faster. “I’m going to become addicted to that if you’re not careful.”

“Anytime, Hay. I’ll beg anytime. Always. For you, always.”

“Fuck.” He drags his lips to my throat, groaning as he kisses the place just above my collarbone. “You’re perfect, aren’t you?”

Most of the time, not even a little. But right now? Fuck yes.

“Jesus, Ethan. The things I’m going to do with you. To you.” He pulls back, steadying himself up on his knees before grabbing the calf of each of my legs and using them for leverage. Then he starts fucking into me hard—brutally so. It’s enough to have the air catching in my chest every thrust forward. Enough to have my eyes shedding tears down my cheeks. Enough to have my jaw going slack, pathetic little uh, uh, uh s coming out of me with every movement. “And you’ll let me, won’t you? Needy little jock. You’re going to let me wreck you. Going to beg me to, even.”

“Yes. Yes, please. Please.”

“Just like that. Good. Get some practice in.” He nods toward my cock, half-hard and still leaky. “Come again.”

I shiver, my hand hovering near without touching. It’s going to be so fucking sensitive. I’ve never been good at coming quickly after a first time. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can. I say you can.” He arches a brow at me. I swear, that alone is a fucking kink. Who knew I had so many? “Unless you truly don’t want to? Say no and I’ll let it go, Ethan. I’m serious. It’s okay.”

I know this is my out—my moment to say no, where he’ll respect it instead of push my limits.

I don’t take it.

I take my cock in my hand instead, hissing as the simple touch sends a zapping pleasure-pain through me. He’s watching me closely enough to see the reaction. The bastard smiles.

“So needy.” He kisses the inside of my left ankle, his scruff scraping my skin. “Gonna come again?”

“If you want me to,” I breathe.

He groans. “Such a good boy. Yeah. Come for me. Then I’ll fill you up, just like you wanted.”

I whine at the thought of him spilling inside me. I can’t wait to feel that. I can’t wait to be marked by him.

My hand flies up and down my cock as he continues pounding into me. It’s unbearably pleasurable, each movement sending me closer to an edge I’m not sure I want to approach. Not that Hayden gives me an option. Anytime my hand slows, he gives it a sharp tap to remind me to keep going. When he seems to realize I’m not quite getting there, he adjusts my legs, lifts my ass off the mattress, and starts thrusting again. This time, he does a swivel thing with his hips though.

It grinds his cock right against my prostate.

I shout, my body flooding with the warring sensations of pain and pleasure. It makes my head go fuzzy, my ears filling with a soft whooshing sound. I don’t know how I keep stroking myself. I don’t even know how I keep breathing.

“That’s it,” I hear him say from far away. “Such a good boy.”

I’m done for then.

I come so hard, I sob with it, feeling my cum splash up against my throat.

He growls, his fingers tightening on my thighs, and pounds into me even harder. It’s enough to have more sobs coming out of me as I squirm. I don’t know if I’m even squirming to get closer to him or to escape, my body and mind torn between self-preservation and deep-seated desires. It doesn’t matter though. He’s the one in charge.

The single realization has my cock twitching pathetically, a fresh wave of pleasure rolling through me. I shake with the intensity of it, my eyes going wide as they focus on Hayden hovering above me. His neck is stretched long with his head tossed back, his lips parted as he releases the sexiest fucking moan I’ve ever heard.

I feel it when he comes.

I fucking feel it.

His cock twitches and warmth floods my hole and I feel giddy, almost unhinged, with the sensation. It only gets better as he deflates a little, his stomach pressing against mine as his gaze falls to my eyes. He smiles, the expression slow and fucked-out.

“Hey, baby.”

I make a stupid little noise. “Hi.”

“You feeling okay?”

“Okay?” I blink at him. My head isn’t working the best yet, but I know enough to know I feel much better than okay. “Fucking greatest.”

He chuckles. “The nerd in me wants to correct your grammar so bad, but it’s not your fault, is it? I think I fucked your brain right out of you, you poor thing.”

I make that noise again. Fuck, it’s pathetic and needy but I don’t even care because his grin softens at the sound, his expression going all warm and fond.

“You did so good, Ethan,” he murmurs, leaning down to press kisses all over my face. When he takes my lips with his, I’m surprised to taste salt. It takes a moment to realize it’s the taste of my tears. He fucked me so good, I cried.

And I was good.

He said I was good.

Is it possible for a human being to melt into a puddle? Asking for a friend.

I wince when he slides out of me, not so much because it hurts but because it feels weird. I don’t think I like being empty, not after being so, so full of him.

“Oh, don’t pout, baby. You’re breaking my heart,” he says with a chuckle. “I’ll clean us up quick and then we can rest. The pizza probably isn’t here yet, but I’ll check, okay?”

I frown, not at all okay with that plan. Not the first step at least. “Don’t clean me.”

“I know it’s hot to be all full, and you can keep what’s inside, but the rest will dry and hurt, especially where there’s hair. You gotta let me clean you, okay?”

I pout—and I don’t even care that I’m pouting. “Okay…”

“Good boy.” He disappears for a moment before returning with a cloth. He settles beside me, gently guiding my legs apart so he can swipe the cloth between my cheeks. It’s surprisingly soothing against my sensitive hole. Enough to have me melting into the mattress, sleepier than ever. “There you go. All clean, baby.”

“Okay,” I mumble, my face smooshed into the pillow in an obscenely comfortable way. “Good night.”

He chuckles, his hand warm against my skin as he strokes my back. “Naptime it is. I’ll set an alarm.”

“You were right,” I say as I snag a second slice of reheated pizza. “There is nothing better than this.”

“Is that you admitting it was great sex?”

I arch a brow at him. “You making me come my brain out— twice —didn’t make that clear? Or me literally passing out after?”

“Mmm, I suppose.” He tilts his head, his eyes suddenly softening as he lifts a hand to stroke my cheek. There I go, melting into a fucking puddle again. “You’re okay, though?”

“I’m perfect, Hay.”

“You really are.” He leans over the pizza box, pressing his greasy lips to mine. I smile as his cheesy words sink in. It makes it a little hard to kiss though, so he just licks along my bottom lip instead and pulls back.

I take a turn touching his cheek, hoping he can see how fond of him I am. “You are, too. Think I picked a pretty good guy to be my bi-awakening, hey?”

He chuckles. “So, it is an awakening then? I wasn’t sure if you were maybe in the closet or something.”

“No. No, I definitely thought I was straight.” I force a laugh, feeling kind of stupid like I usually do whenever I let myself think too much about it. “It’s kind of crazy, actually. It was like a light bulb went off. You said ex- boyfriend and my mind was instantly fucked.”

“You’d never had thoughts?”

“No? Maybe? I don’t know. I mean, how many hours have I spent watching hot guys work out or appreciating men in health magazines or studying the way a player skates and moves? But I never thought yeah, I want to fuck him or, ya know…” I have to look away, my cheeks burning.

“Thought yeah, I want him to fuck me ?” he finishes, thankfully with only slight teasing in his tone.

“Yeah. That .” I pretend to fiddle with the toppings on my pizza, rearranging them unnecessarily. “Maybe if I went back and thought about specific moments like I did with you. I can’t really think of any guys to do it with though. I tried with Jules.” I fake a shudder. “Didn’t work.”

He laughs. “What moments?”

“For Jules?”

“No, Ethan.” He curls his fingers beneath my chin, nudging until I look at him. His dark eyes are dancing. Goddamn, he’s so fucking gorgeous. “With me.”

My cheeks burn even worse, but I force myself to maintain eye contact. “When you ate that fucking ice cream. When you touched my wrist on the bus—there was spit on your bottom lip that night, not like, drool , but your lip was slick and I couldn’t stop staring. The urge to touch you—the veins on your forearms or your eyebrow when you’d arch it. Your fucking accent when you’d imitate your grandma. I always explained the moments away. I mean, I wasn’t thinking about kissing you or anything, and I wasn’t getting boners, so…”

“ Boners ,” he says with an amused snort. “You’re such a jock.”

“Shut up. You know what I mean.”

“I do.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Now you have to tell me, though. When was your first boner for me?”

I roll my eyes to hide how flustered I am by the question. When will he stop affecting me like this? “The first time it was more than just a little interest, like an actual full erection , was when you stretched me out after Knut. I got hard so fast. Like, hard , Hay.”

His gaze wanders to the ceiling for a second before he barks a laugh. “Oh, yeah. I remember that. I thought you were uncomfortable with me being gay.”

“I’m aware. You couldn’t have been more wrong.”

He closes the pizza box and gently lowers it to the floor before crawling toward me. I fall back with a grin, letting myself just watch as he settles between my legs. I might die if he tries to fuck me again so soon, even with the nap, but I’d be willing to take the risk for him if he asked.

“You know, I got hard then too.” He shakes his head, his smile rueful. “I felt awful about it.”

I don’t tell him Jules told me that, wanting to play along. “Yeah? You get hard for all your players, Hayden Wallace?”

“Just the brats,” he says with a grin before nipping lightly at my stomach. I jerk, caught between a laugh and a moan. My poor cock stirs, trying its best to rally for another round. “This one brat in particular really does it for me.”

“Does he?” I run my hand through his hair, the usually tight curls loose and frizzy. I like being able to just touch him like this. I like the way he melts under it, his playful grin softening to a content smile. He might be the one in control, but he’s also mine and that shows in moments like this. I can’t wait to have so many more of them. “What does this player do?”

“Hmm. Well, he sucks cock like a champ. Takes it pretty damn well, too.” I move my hand from his hair to his face, groaning as I pretend to push him away. He laughs and nibbles at my palm before adding, “And you should see him skate.”

I drop my hand, liking where this is going now. “Oh yeah?”

“Beautiful on the ice. Off it, too.” He whistles low like he’s impressed, shaking his head. “He even drinks tart cherry juice with only a little bit of pouting.”

I roll my eyes. “I do not pout .”

“You sure? Maybe I should take a picture of your face next time I have to clean you up.”

“That wasn’t a pout! That was—was—”

“A pout,” he says, deadpan, before leaning up to give me a quick kiss. “Don’t worry, baby. It’s our secret.”

The word secret distracts me from the playful moment, my smile slipping. Hayden must pick up on it, rolling off of me and settling on his side. His hand finds mine on my stomach as I turn my head on the pillow to look at him.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey.” I force a quick smile. “Sorry. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“Secrets.”

His expression brightens for a moment, quick enough for me to almost miss it, before he carefully asks, “Your secret?”

Oh.

No, definitely not.

“Sorry. No. Not—not that. Um.” I tear my gaze away, looking up at the ceiling. “I was thinking about us .”

Despite not looking at him, I can still sense the sudden tension in his body. His hand stays in mine though, and his voice is soft when he says, “We don’t have to tell anyone until you’re ready, Ethan.”

“I don’t want to keep you a secret. Really.” I look over at him, knowing this is too important not to be looking him in the eyes, even if it makes it harder for me. “I told Jules already. Well, he figured it out, but I didn’t try to deny it. It’s just… I’m already on thin ice with the league and the coach for the Devils made it pretty fucking clear I will not cause trouble for them again or my ass is gone.”

“So, we keep it a secret until the Devils call you back up?”

“Yeah? I mean, I think so. Yeah.” I bring my free hand up before remembering I don’t have my hat. I settle for running fingers through my hair instead. “Not if it takes forever. I’m not asking for years here. Just some time?”

His smile is small, but not forced or sad or anything else that would indicate he’s upset. “I can do that, Ethan. I’ve got plenty of time for you.”

I release a breath, the exhale shakier than I expected. Even my throat suddenly feels a little tight as relief washes over me. I clear it twice before trying to lighten the mood. “You know, I liked it when Jules called me your boy last night.”

His eyes flash. “So did I.”

“Am I, still? Even with the secret?”

“My boy?” I nod. He grins, letting go of my hand to reach for my face instead. I lean my cheek into his palm and exhale. It’s not so shaky this time, like his touch is soothing my soul. I think maybe it is. “Yes, Ethan Pope. You’re all mine.”

I close my eyes, lips pulling into a stupid, lovesick grin.

“You know what we should do now?” he whispers, his mouth suddenly against my ear as his voice dips all low and seductive.

I shiver. “What?”

“Watch some game tape.”

“Fuck.” I open my eyes and turn my head to grin at him. He’s grinning right back. “You really are perfect.”

He chuckles before slapping my hip playfully. “Grab the pizza and meet me on the couch. I’ll grab my tablet.”

“Should I put pants on?” I ask, already rolling off the bed and reaching for the box.

He pauses near his bedroom door and gives me a false glare. “Don’t you dare.”