Chapter 6
Rainbow
Good guys like Tobias aren’t meant to talk like that, are they? I never imagined he’d be so, so vocal. It’s a side of him I’ve never seen before. Is that because usually he’s with Ric, and this is the first time we’ve been alone like this?
I swallow hard. As someone who normally has no problem saying what’s on their mind, I seem to find myself momentarily at a loss for words.
Those grey jogging bottoms aren’t doing anything to help my cause, either.
And I don’t even like them on other men.
It would appear he’s the exception. I might as well enjoy myself, no matter how brief it might be.
For tonight, I don’t want to think or talk myself out of all the reasons this is a bad idea. I just want to feel.
Even though I’m tall, I still need to go up on my tiptoes to grab the back of his neck and pull his mouth down to mine.
Go big or go home, right?
He freezes at first, but then his lips part, and he’s kissing me. It’s nothing like the kiss from earlier. No, this one is pure heat, raw, and full of passion.
Tobias pulls back, his dark eyes holding mine captive. “You’re playing a very dangerous game, sweet cheeks.”
“Do you want to stop?” I ask, feeling more exposed than I ever have before. I know there is only one way this is going to end, and that’s badly, yet I can’t bring myself to do anything about it. I want this. I want him.
He shakes his head, his lips curving up into a wicked grin. “Fuck, no,” he says, lifting me. My legs automatically wrap around his waist, my jean shorts way too constricting; however, they do add some delicious friction, causing me to groan,
My arse touches the counter, and the cool granite is a welcome reprieve against my heated flesh.
I lean back enough to reach out and put my hands under his t-shirt, desperate to touch him, to feel him beneath my fingertips. I allow my hands to roam over his stomach and chest.
“Off,” I demand, my voice desperate and not quite sounding like my own.
With a raised brow, he reaches over his head and, in one swift move, pulls his t-shirt up and off before tossing it to the floor. I giggle because, given how immaculate his apartment is, I can imagine he’s not usually so carefree.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, his hands back on my hips as I stare unapologetically at his naked torso.
“Nothing. You just keep surprising me,” I reply honestly.
“Like?” he asks, the pads of his thumbs swirling in small circular motions over my exposed skin just above my shorts, and unlike him, I am very aware of our differences—my stomach isn’t flat, he’s athletic, where I am not.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I remind myself that no one’s body is the same, it’s a vessel, a privilege, but it still takes considerable effort not to recoil and cover up.
Society is inherently toxic when it comes to physical appearances. It still has the power to make us believe that no matter what we look like, we’re inadequate in some way, shape or form.
Tobias studies me, waiting for me to reply.
He doesn’t push, and I have no idea how this man right here is single.
I never hear about him going on dates or see him with anyone on social media.
Granted, he’s rarely on there, but I can’t blame a girl for snooping every once in a while. What can I say, I like to scroll.
I look to where his t-shirt lies haphazardly on the floor. “I imagine you probably fold your clothes before they make their way to the linen bin,” I say, glancing back at him.
He laughs at that. “Hmm, I neither confirm nor deny,” he says, and I love seeing this side to him.
It’s almost playful, when usually, when I see him with Ric, he’s always reserved, with an almost quiet disposition.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s not rude, but unlike me who needs to fill the silence, he’s never really seemed inclined that way.
He watches, listens. I can imagine he’s very astute.
“Well, they do say it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for,” I reply, unable to stop my hands from roaming under the waistband of his joggers, pushing them lower, my eyes immediately drawn to the outline of his hard cock beneath the cotton of his tight boxer briefs.
“I can assure you, I’m very vocal when it matters.”
His hand roams up to cup my breast.
“I’m beginning to see that,” I reply as my fingertip traces over the outline of his cock.
“Good, so it won’t surprise you when I say I want this off,” he says, tugging at the hem of my t-shirt, his other hand palming my breast through the lace of my bra.
I lift my arms in the air, and he makes quick work of pulling my t-shirt over my head and tossing it down with his.
“Hmm, pretty, but this needs to come off, too.”
Before I can even take a breath, his hand moves to the back of my bra where he deftly undoes the hooks and begins dragging the straps down my shoulders and over my arms.
“You’re a bit of an expert at that.” I hate the twinge of jealousy that runs through me. It’s a strange reaction. I’m not usually like this, but knowing he probably has a lot of experience, much like myself, rubs me up the wrong way. It’s an innate response and an unexpected one.
“I might have had some practice, but not in the way you might think.”
He leans down with his eyes on me as he takes one of my nipples into his mouth, the tip of his tongue teasing it into a peak before his teeth close around it, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps.
My hands move to his hair, holding him in place, but he lets it go with a soft pop.
“Would you ever get your nipples pierced?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.”
“I’d love to see that,” he confesses.
“What about you? Would you ever get any piercings?”
He shakes his head, taking my other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Hell no, I’m afraid of needles.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Yep, terrified. It’s why I haven’t got any tattoos. I’ve tried but never made it into the tattoo chair.”
I stare at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Unlike you, who, it would appear, is fearless,” he says in awe.
I laugh at that. “Hardly, you’ll be surprised, there are plenty of things that terrify me,” I admit. “But what’s the saying, do the things that scare you.”
“You scare me,” he says.
His admission knocks me off kilter. I don’t know how to process them or his actions; this is all so surreal.
“Me, I scare you?”
“You have no idea the kind of hold you have over me, do you?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s similar to the one you currently have over me.”
Something about this feels too open, too raw, but with him I find myself unable to keep my admissions at bay. Not when he’s saying all the right things. Not that he needs to say anything for me to want him.
He dips his head, a salacious smirk gracing his mouth before he lowers his mouth. His tongue flicks out, lavishing at my inner thigh, and if I didn’t know it before, I know now, without a doubt I am well and truly fucked.