Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Brayden
Adler’s mouth hovers a fraction of an inch away from mine.
I can feel the fall of his breath on my cheek, can see the tiny imperfections in his skin.
He has a scar on his forehead, something barely visible when he’s wearing a hat on the field, but is obvious now, a lightning strike through his eyebrow.
How’d you get that? I want to know. Maybe that’s more surprising to me than anything else. Adler hasn’t moved to kiss me. He’s waiting like he’s daring me to close that last distance between us.
I should pull back. Tell him to fuck off. Tell him that he’s got a bad read on this whole situation the way he does on pop flies to shallow centerfield. I’m not like that. I can’t be like that. What I’ve been told over and over since before I knew what it meant.
We’re in his apartment, high up, invisible to everyone except each other. If I kiss him, we’ll have to go into the clubhouse tomorrow having done this. His mouth is…not ugly. Pretty, even. A word I’ve heard used as an insult for men like him my entire life. Men like him. Men like me.
I’m not… But I tip my head anyway. Adler’s lips touch mine.
His lips are smooth, mouth warm. His teeth nibble at my lower lip.
For a moment, we just kiss, then he winds a hand around the back of my neck, slides his tongue past mine.
Kisses me like we’re having an argument he’s determined to win. Fuck. Well, I’m not going to let him.
We’re half splayed across Savannah, who’s watching us, eyes half-lidded, as if she’s still recovering from her orgasm. I pull Adler toward me, brace myself for the slight drop as we both go sprawling onto the carpet.
Adler comes down right on top of me, chest against mine, our legs slotting together the way we’d been during that fielding practice where we went toppling over each other.
At the time, I thought Adler was gonna rear back and hit me.
Now, he’s winding his hand through the short hairs on the back of my neck, grabbing like he doesn’t want to let go.
I send my hand up his torso, fingers colliding with his ribs, the plates of muscle in his chest, the flat point of a nipple. I should be panicking. I should. Adler’s cock brushes mine. His tongue fucks my mouth, drinking Savannah’s taste. Everything I’ve been told not to want. And yet…
I moan involuntarily, and Adler smirks at that, a smile I can feel against my skin. “Fuck you,” I mumble.
That only makes him laugh. “Sure.” As if I was legitimately offering. As if he could accept just as easily.
Enough of this. I can’t have him thinking he has the upper hand.
Not literally. I grab him by the shoulders, lever us both so he flips on his back with an oof.
Hover over him, my weight on his legs, my hands wrapped around the solid musculature of his wrists.
He pushes up against me as if he’s testing the limits of my grip.
I shove more of my weight over him—he could flip me if he wanted, but he clearly doesn’t.
“You like feeling like you’re in control, huh?” he asks me. He’s got that fucking smirk on again.
This time when our mouths crash together, he’s the one who’s moaning.
Kissing Sav feels like taking a cool drink of water after a day spent out in the blazing sun; kissing Adler feels like I’m straying too close to a flame.
Our teeth click. He bucks against me, and I do the same to him, shoving him back down.
A competition, except from the way he’s digging his fingers into my back, we both want the same thing: more.
More of his hands on me. More of his tongue in my mouth.
More of the feeling of his cock sliding next to mine.
Something within me bursts, some dam inside me that I’ve been holding myself back with.
I reach, grab a handful of his ass, grind our cocks together, grateful for the layers of fabric between us so I don’t shoot off right now.
“Something you want, B?” he asks me. Not Forsyth.
“Yeah.” I pull up, desperate for air. “I want you to fuck my wife.”