Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
TYLER
There’s something hard and warm next to me when I roll over the following morning. Silky smooth skin pressed against mine and the gentle sound of shallow breathing stir me awake.
Blinking my eyes open, I come face-to-face with a sleeping Colby.
Shit, we must have passed out last night.
My gaze shoots toward the door, panic lacing through me until I see the lock is still in place.
I heave a sigh of relief and shift onto my side, curl my arm up under my pillow, and use the peaceful moment to take Colby in.
He’s devoid of tension. There’s no worry lines creasing his beautiful face, and his lips are parted ever so slightly, making them look fuller than usual.
I bite back a smile at the messy blond curls spilling across my pillow.
He looks so relaxed, I wish I could bottle up this moment and stay like this.
Wait, what?
My throat turns dry at the thought. I mean, yeah, sure, last night was…
mind-blowing, to put it lightly. I’m no stranger to being on the receiving end of a fantastic blow job, but I’m not a relationship kind of guy.
I don’t have anything to offer someone except some quick roll-in-the-sheets fun.
But I can’t ignore the fact that there was something about the way Colby was so in tune to my needs, and his need to please me, to do everything I told him to, that has me starving to do it again.
And the thought of someone else getting to have this part of him when this thing between us is all said and done has acid pooling in the pit of my stomach.
I close my eyes and inwardly groan.
Fuck’s sake, what is wrong with me? A couple of hand jobs and a blow job, and I’m already seeing green over some imaginary guy?
Sex is sex.
We’re only fooling around. I’m showing him the ropes. Teaching him how to be confident in himself before he goes off on his wild sexual adventures.
Come summer, he won’t be thinking about how he altered something inside of me, but I’m not sure whether we can go back to the version of us we were before he sucked my dick.
But he didn’t come.
The realization has me stiffening, mentally flicking through the images of last night ingrained into my brain.
Fuck. He didn’t. He swallowed my load, then lay down beside me and told me that ridiculous banana story.
Even the thought of him using a banana to practice isn’t enough to dull the feeling building in my chest.
Shit, I’m a terrible person. He’s probably going to regret asking me to teach him because I’m such a selfish prick.
I chew on the inside of my cheek and roam my eyes over his face.
One unruly curl has fallen into his face, so I carefully tuck it behind his ear, but my touch must disturb him because he lets out a low, sleepy groan and stretches his entire body.
My gaze tracks down his torso, watching each muscle tense and release, and when my eyes finally return to his face, those hazel irises are fixed on me.
“Morning,” I say, voice still thick with sleep.
“Morning,” he mumbles around a yawn. “What time is it?”
Pushing up on an elbow, I grab my phone from where I abandoned it on the floor and tap the screen. “Just after nine.”
He lets out another disgruntled noise and scrubs his face with his palm.
“Do you have class today?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah, but not until this afternoon before practice.”
Same as me.
It’s very rare I spend the night with a hookup, let alone want to spend time with them after the sex is over, but Colby is more than that, and it surprises me when I ask, “Want to go and grab some breakfast?”
His eyes dart from me to the door, then back again, a silent question in his eyes. Is it safe?
“I’ll check the coast is clear first,” I reassure him. “But I’m pretty sure they’ve either left for class or are going to be nursing one hell of a hangover that not even a stampede of tap-dancing elephants will awake them.”
He laughs, but it doesn’t do anything to hide his nerves.
The good sign is the house is quiet. Too quiet, almost, which means my hunch is most likely right.
Throwing the sheets off me, I climb out of bed—grateful I had the hindsight to put on some underwear even if I don’t remember doing it—and walk quietly across the landing to check whether Eric is here.
I hold my breath when I peek my head into his room and see that it’s empty.
My shoulders sag in relief before I poke my head around the door to my room.
“It’s all clear up here. Let me check downstairs, then you can go in the shower first,” I tell Colby, then head downstairs to check the rooms on the second floor.
Ritchie has already left for class, and Liam’s bed is untouched, which can only mean he ended up going home with someone else.
Batesy is the only one still here, and judging by the loud snores that could rival the horn of a freight train, it’s safe to say he won’t be awake anytime soon.
I take the stairs two at a time back up to my room and give Colby the nod.
“There should be a new toothbrush in the cupboard under the sink,” I say, handing over a fresh towel.
Colby gives me a small smile before disappearing into the bathroom. I leave him a clean T-shirt and boxer briefs on my bed before heading back downstairs to grab us both a bottle of water from the kitchen.
Colby is still in the shower when I make it back to my room, so I tidy up and make my bed and place the water on the side for when he gets out.
I have no idea where we could go for breakfast. Going somewhere on campus isn’t an option because we’ll only get interrupted every five minutes, which leaves going out of town.
Picking up my phone from my bedside table, where I plugged it in to charge, I mentally work out what time we’d need to be back on campus to make it to class.
There are a couple of options, all of which are a thirty-minute drive away, giving us some privacy and reducing the risk of bumping into anyone from school.
When Colby gets out of the shower, I try to ignore how good he looks in nothing but a towel. His skin is slightly pink from the heat of the water, and droplets drip down his chest from his damp hair. My mouth waters, wanting to lean in and lick them off.
Did he use my shampoo and shower gel? Does he smell like me?
My cock gives an appreciative throb. Clearly, I’m a bit of a possessive bastard when it comes to Colby. Who knew.
“I’ve left you some clean clothes on the bed if you need them,” I say, pointing behind me where I left the T-shirt and boxer briefs.
“Thanks.” He smiles, and I resist the urge to push him against the wall and kiss him until we’re gasping for breath.
Gripping my towel tighter, I slip past him and head into the shower. I turn the heat down until it’s almost freezing, hoping it’ll stop my cock from hardening up.
I scrub my scalp a little harder than normal and ignore my swelling cock when I run soapy hands over my body.
It still hasn’t gone down by the time I’m done, so I switch the water as cold as it’ll go.
Freezing water hits me like a wall, and I hiss through gritted teeth, but it does what I need it to.
My cock goes soft within seconds. Closing my eyes, I rest my forehead against the cool tiled wall.
What the fuck has gotten into me?
I dry off and step into clean underwear before ruffling my hair with the towel and using the bright green glittery hairbrush Piper bought me as a joke in freshman year.
She wrote my name on the back in cursive.
I’m pretty sure she thought it would embarrass me, but all it does is make me smile every time I use it at the thought of my best friend.
When I walk back into my bedroom, I’m unprepared for the burst of… something in my chest at the sight of Colby dressed in my clothes.
The T-shirt is a little big on him, but not too noticeable. And the sneaky glimpse of the waistband of my boxer briefs when his T-shirt rides up as he pulls on his hoodie has my mouth watering.
He looks good. Really fucking good.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Ready?”
“Yeah,” he says, sitting down on the edge of my bed to slip on his shoes.
I quickly get dressed and spray some cologne as I shove my feet into my shoes, then offer it to Colby.
My stomach swoops when he uses it. Fuck, he really is going to smell like me. In my clothes.
Why is this turning me on so much?
Mentally giving my head a shake, I grab my phone, wallet, and car keys and lead us downstairs. Batesy is still impersonating Snorlax when we pass, and we make it to my car parked down the street without anyone spotting us.
“I thought we could head to Newburyport,” I suggest, connecting my phone. “It’s only about thirty minutes, and we’ll be back before class.”
“Sounds good,” he says from the passenger seat. “I haven’t been there for years.”
I glance over at him before focusing back on the road as I pull away from the curb. “You grew up in Maine, right?”
He nods. “Yeah. My dad’s friend had a boat there, and in the summer, we’d come down for the weekend and spend a day out on the water.”
“I bet that was nice. I used to spend time out on the lakes with Piper during the summer if we weren’t at camp.”
“Yeah, it was. I didn’t think so at the time, because it was dragging me away from playing hockey, but I always ended up enjoying myself. And looking back, I think it was probably good for me to take a break away from the rink.”
“It’s hard to tear yourself away when hockey is your sole interest.”
“It is. Even now, sometimes I have to force myself to study or do something else instead of watching tape when I’m in my room. I know my grades don’t really matter, but I came here for the experience, so I want to make the most of it.”
I tug the corner of my lip between my teeth, thinking through my next words.
“I think it’s really admirable what you’ve done.”
“What do you mean?”