“You nervous?” he asked from the edge of the couch.
His light-brown hair was mussed, kind of wild and stuck out at the base of his neck from where I grabbed him earlier when we kissed.
I never noticed before how hawk-like his hazel eyes could be. How he was able to look into me as if he saw things no one else would notice.
I nodded honestly. “Maybe a little.”
“I don’t have to.” He hedged.
I glanced at the strength of his back, the rounded shape of his biceps. I was safe with him.
“I want to.”
He nodded and settled beside me, slightly turned so one of his shoulders pressed into the back of the couch.
The TV was still on, the changing pictures flickering low light throughout the room. His skin was illuminated by it, making it too hard to keep resisting the urge to touch him.
His skin was warm, almost flushed against my palm. I drifted down from his shoulder, across his chest to cup his pec. The nipple in the center tightened in response, and I rubbed my hand over it, teasing the bud.
Next, I trailed down a little lower, to the top of his abs, which tightened beneath my hand. They were defined enough that I was able to trace their outline with the pad of my finger.
“I don’t think it’s fair I’m the only one without a shirt,” he drawled.
I sat up and bunched the fabric of my shirt beneath my hand and pulled. I threw it over the back of the couch and settled back once more, reclining a little to give him a full view of my upper body.
I felt a little self-conscious because I wasn’t as built as him. I was leaner and not as wide. I’d never felt insecure before, never worried about pleasing someone else with the way I looked.
I never cared before.
He moved to touch me but then drew back. Disappointment crashed into me, and I realized how badly I anticipated the feel of his hands on me.
“I…” He started.
“It’s okay.” I nodded.
His hand was as warm as the rest of his skin and slightly calloused because he lifted so many weights. The somewhat rough texture of his hand made goose bumps run along my limbs. He too went for my nipple, which was already rock hard. He took it between his fingers and rolled it, lightly pinching the sensitive flesh.
My eyes slid closed, and a new sensation assaulted me.
The distinct feel of his tongue flicking over the hardened bud made me jolt. He paused and looked up. I palmed the back of his head and arched my back, pushing myself closer and pulling him down.
His lips closed around the nip and pulled. I groaned as he lavished attention on my pec in a way no one else ever had.
As he did, his hand roamed over to the other to pluck and play with the also rock-hard bud.
My ball sack tightened close to my body, and my cock began to throb.
As his tongue slid over my chest, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like around my cock.
My hips thrust up, and I made an impatient sound. His throaty chuckle vibrated my skin, and I shuddered. Instead of picking up his mouth and sitting back, he trailed hot, wet kisses over my abs, all the way down.
I think I muttered a curse, but I was beyond hearing. My hand tightened at the back of his head as the tip of his tongue delved into the small circle of my belly button.
His thick fingers reached for the button on my jeans, and I tilted up to give him better access.
He laughed low. “You’re very impatient.”
“I want more,” I replied, reaching for my own button. He was taking too long.
“No, you don’t.” He pushed my hand away and pinned it against the couch. “You said you wanted to know what it felt like for me to touch you.”
“It’s torture,” I groaned.
He released my wrist and popped the button free. The distinct sound of my fly going down made me tremble. “Good or bad torture?”
“You talk too much,” I grumbled.
He laughed and got up from the couch. My eyes shot open when the weight and heat of him so close was no longer there. Before I could say anything, he was settling on the floor between my knees, his hazel eyes watching, weighing my reaction to his new position.
Our eyes stayed locked when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my jeans and my boxers and tugged. Both garments came away and slid all the way to my knees. Even though my dick sprang free, he didn’t stop. Instead, he pulled them off all the way and tossed them aside.
I was completely naked.
Vulnerable in ways I’d never been before.
Beneath my skin, my muscles quivered. From desire. From anticipation.
Trent moved a little closer and placed his hands on my knees. If he felt me shaking, he didn’t say anything. Instead, both hands slid upward to the insides of my thighs. I opened my legs a little, giving him more room, glad I did when he began kneading the muscles there and stroking his way up near my cock.
“This okay?” he whispered.
“Yes.” I sighed and closed my eyes.
“If I do anything you don’t like, just say the word and I’ll stop.”
“You could do anything to me right about now, frat boy,” I murmured.