10. Milo
Notes
You didn’t think I’d leave you hanging like that, right? There had to be two chapters this week, because what was the other option?
Milo
“We need to talk.”
Had there ever been four worse words in the English language? I didn’t think so. I’d heard them before, and they were always paired with bad news.
I already knew what was about to happen.
Rowan was going to say that kissing me had been a big mistake, and he regretted it.
That was probably why he hadn’t left his room the entire time we were in Roswell.
It was why he’d pretty much ignored me on the flight there and back.
I thought I’d seen him looking at me a few times during the game, but there were other people on the sidelines.
He could have been looking at anyone.
And now he was at my door, starting a conversation with the worst combination of words known to mankind.
Okay. I could do this. I took a deep breath and stepped back, opening the door wide for him. He stepped over the threshold and walked inside. I followed him, only to collide directly into his back when he stopped after a few steps. I grunted, and he laughed.
“Just realized that I should probably let you lead me,” he explained as he stepped aside.
I didn’t see why he needed a guide. Our apartments were identical in layout, and he could see my sectional from where we were standing.
Was that a good place to have this conversation, or would it be better at the small dining room table?
Probably. It would probably be better at the dining room table.
It was more formal, and if he was going to tell me that kissing me had been a big mistake, then it would be better there.
Or maybe it’d be better to be comfortable while we had an uncomfortable conversation.
My eyes darted back and forth between the sectional and the dining room table.
In the end, I chose the sectional just because it had my favorite throw pillows, and I would probably need something to hold.
I walked over to the sectional and took a seat in one corner.
I grabbed the gold throw pillow and put it on my lap, wrapping my arms around it, before motioning for him to take a seat.
Rowan hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.
He didn’t even have something to lean back against, but it didn’t matter.
He was perched on the end, like he was going to take off running out the door the moment the conversation was over.
Rest in peace our budding friendship, I guess.
I didn’t know if I was supposed to start or if Rowan was.
I’d assume that he would, because he’d been the one to come over, but he wasn’t saying anything.
The air between us thickened with tension until it was hard to breathe, and he still wasn’t saying anything.
I clenched my fists into the pillow and pulled air into my lungs.
It didn’t feel like enough. I swore my lungs weren’t expanding properly at all.
No, I was being dramatic.
I looked over at him, and our eyes met. He still wasn’t saying anything.
It looked like I was going to have to be the one to break the tension.
“So…” Great start there. I noticed how tightly he was clenching his fist, so tight his knuckles were white.
He was just as nervous as I was. I could do better.
“I’m assuming you wanted to talk about the elevator? ”
He nodded, but he didn’t say a word.
It looked like I was going to do the heavy lifting in this conversation. “If you want to tell me you regret it, then go ahead, but know that I don’t. Regret it, I mean. I don’t regret it. It was a really good kiss, but if you do, that’s okay. We can just be—”
My words were cut off by Rowan launching at me, his lips colliding with mine. I fell backward against the arm of the couch. I might have tumbled over it if I hadn’t abandoned the pillow and flailed my arms out to catch myself. Rowan’s tongue invaded my mouth, and his large body blanketed mine.
Okay, so maybe he didn’t regret the kiss.
If the kiss in the elevator had been hot, it had nothing on this. No, this kiss was hungry and desperate, full of everything he couldn’t say. At least, I thought it was. Maybe I was bad at reading between the lines. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. Not when his lips were moving against mine.
He took full control of the kiss. His tongue mapped every crevice in my mouth. One of his hands stayed by my head, keeping himself from crushing me, and the other found my waist. Holy shit, his hand was huge. It covered most of my side. If his hand was that big…
No.
I mean, yes, my thoughts were going there, but no, we were kissing. That was it.
And we weren’t kissing in a comfortable position.
The arm of the couch was digging into my back, and after a few minutes, I couldn’t think about the press of his body against mine or the way his skillful tongue moved in my mouth, fucking into it and making me think very dirty thoughts.
All I was able to think about was the bite of the couch and how it was not a very pleasant kind of pain.
As much as it pained me, I knew what I had to do.
I brought one hand up between our pressed together bodies and lightly pushed against his shoulder.
He got the memo immediately and leaned up onto his knees.
His face was flushed, but my eyes weren’t looking at his face.
They were stuck on his lips, shining wet with spit and drawing me to them like a magnet.
I was powerless. They pulled me in, and I crashed against him, rising to my knees and ridding myself of the annoying back pain the couch was causing.
His arms circled around my waist and pulled me closer.
This time, we were equal in the kiss. Our tongues explored.
My hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, and his arms tightened around me.
I could feel his body starting to react, feel his half-hard shaft pressed against my thigh.
I knew he could feel me too. My cock was already rock hard, and I needed him to know the effect he was having on me.
I rolled my hips, moaning into his mouth as the friction sent waves of lust through my body.
His hands slipped from my waist to my ass.
He cupped my cheeks in his hand and pulled me closer, encouraging me to thrust against him.
Every press of my body against his made me want him that much more, and soon, I was moaning and groaning like a man possessed.
If he could have this effect on me with nothing more than a few simple touches, what could he do if we fully gave in to our lust?
I had a feeling it would be an out-of-body experience, and I wanted to know.
I pulled away from the kiss and rested my forehead against his, struggling to catch my breath so I could suggest we move venues.
Instead of having a chance to catch my breath, Rowan chose a new way to elicit a reaction from me.
His lips found my neck, and his tongue traced delicate patterns along the column.
I dropped my head back, giving him better access.
He rolled his hips against mine. His cock was fully hard now, and I wanted to feel more of it.
I wanted to feel it in my hand, in my mouth, ravaging my hole.
He bit down on my neck, and a loud moan fell from my lips. Holy fuck.
“Th-think we should,” I gasped out as his tongue soothed the lingering pain from his bite.
“Stop?” he questioned, pulling away. His hazel eyes were almost black with lust.
Did he really want to stop?
“Only—only if you want to,” I gasped out as his hips rolled against mine one more time, his hard dick digging into my thighs.
That was not the actions of a man who wanted to stop.
I took that as an answer. “No. Thought we should—” He moved his hips ever so slightly, and the next thrust had his cock rubbing against mine.
My words were lost in another lustful sound.
“So responsive,” he whispered as he did it again. “So hot.”
“Bedroom,” I managed to gasp out.
Otherwise, I was going to let him take me apart right here on this couch, and that would be a bitch to clean.
Rowan nodded and climbed off the couch, offering a hand toward me. I laced my fingers through his, and I allowed him to pull me through my condo. He made his way to my room like he lived there, pushing open the door and pulling me inside.
Once the door clicked shut behind us, he turned on me and pushed me back against it.
The moment my back hit the solid wood, his lips descended on mine again.
His body caged me against the door, and that fire flared inside my gut.
Every press of his lips against mine, every slide of his tongue in my mouth stoked my desperation.
I needed more than his lips and the press of his cock against my body.
My hands found the bottom hem of his shirt, and my fingers felt the warm heat of his skin for the first time.
I wanted to feel it pressed against mine, wanted to see his body in a different context.
Not in the locker room, not red from exertion or dripping in sweat from a hard practice.
I wanted to see it in the soft lighting of my bedroom, and when sweat formed on his toned torso, I wanted it to be from the pleasure we were bringing each other.
Which meant I needed to get this shirt off him.
I broke away from the kiss and tugged his shirt up, lifting it over his head and tossing it onto the floor. He made quick work of my shirt, tossing it in the other direction, before capturing my lips again. My hands found a home on his hips, and I began to walk him backward to my bed.