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I smirk at him. “Yes, I do.”
“Quit playing games with me,” Davey’s tone turns more serious. “I need to hear it. I need—”
“I love you.”
His response comes in the form of a kiss. No words. Just a kiss. Except there is no such thing as just a kiss with Davey.
Intimacy and affection do not come easily to this man. He does not give such things lightly, either. I will never forget that first kiss out in the field. I was certain nothing would ever top that. But this kiss. This long, deep, slow kiss. The kiss that tells me everything he can’t put into words yet. This is better than the words. Because I know he saved this kiss for me.
It’s too soon to feel like this. Or, at least, it should be. My relationship with Carter isn’t new. This part of our relationship is new, yes, but we’ve had a relationship, a connection for a very long time, haven’t we?
I hold his face in my hands and pull out of the kiss. I love this man. When I realized he was drunk, I was worried for his safety and I was disappointed, but not in him – for him. Disappointed that something had made taking a drink irresistible. Afraid that something is me.
His eyes sparkle. This isn’t the sloppy, angry drunk of seven years ago. Nothing about the Carter pressing against me right now is like the Carter of seven years ago … unless you count the affect he has on my cock.
He pushes my shirt off my shoulders, and I finish ridding myself of my pants. Carter sits on the bed and scrambles to the middle, where he splays himself, out completely open to me in all his inked skin and honed muscular glory. His cock jerks toward me as I place a knee on either side of his outstretched legs. Carter wraps his fingers around his cock and offers it some assistance in getting to me. To my mouth.
“Take it,” he says. His voice raspy and desperate. “Please.”
I dive between his legs and do as I’m told. I take his offering fully into my mouth in one deep, luxurious swallow. His hips buck, sending his thick cock all the way to the back of my throat and he groans. Spearing his fingers into my hair, he clutches hard, as if he might need something to hold on to lest he fall off of this glorious ride.
I lick, suck and taste all of him. I run my nose along the soft hairs at his base inhaling his warm musky scent and suck his balls into my mouth. I trail my tongue along his shaft and twirl it along his tip before sucking him to the back of my throat again. Over and over. Each time I take him in, the moans grow louder, the hip buck more furious. More determined.
“Stop,” he practically screams when I’m certain he is about to come. I’m more than ready to swallow him up. But he sits and yanks my face off his cock and up to him. “I want you to come with me. Wrap your hands around me, around us…”
The groan that fills the room next is my own. I wrap my hand around our cocks and stroke, pressing the shafts together until our weeping heads meet. My hand grows wet and sticky with our pre-cum, and my motion more determined. Carter is so close. His body squirms and bucks into my hand. He finally adds his own hand and that sends us both hurtling over the edge. At virtually the same time, volcanos of hot liquid erupt over our cocks and hands.
The room falls silent. Breathless, I let my forehead fall to his, and he reaches for me and plants a sweet kiss upon my lips.
“How was your flight home?” Carter laughs. I follow suit, unclenching my hand from our cocks and rolling onto my back on the bed.
Chapter twenty-one
Lost in my thoughts about everything Carter and I said and did last night, I leave him sleeping peacefully to make coffee in the small hotel suite kitchenette.
I love you.
He said it multiple times. I haven’t voiced it yet. But I sure as hell feel it. That’s what this is, right? Love.
A loud rap on the door shakes me out of my haze, and I don’t think twice about answering. I don’t bother to look through the peephole. I fling the door open and… well, fuck… my jaw drops. So does his.
Brady’s eyes sweep across my open shirt. I had, thankfully, put my pants back on. I’m dressed in the same clothes I had on when he saw me last, when I stepped off the team plane and raced over here.
“Is he okay?” Brady asks, a slight chill to his tone as he eases past me into the room.
I sigh, shut the door and turn to Brady.
“He is,” I say.
Brady waits for more.
“He slipped,” is all I add.
It was enough to fuel the fury building in Brady’s eyes. They narrow, and he looks me up and down again like he’s never seen me before. Or like it’s been years since he’s seen me instead of just hours. The look filling those gray eyes isn’t warm. It’s one I’ve seen before… but never directed at me. He lets his eyes take in the hotel suite, seeking evidence of a drunken night that led to me being here in a small but clear state of undress. But he isn’t going to find anything.
“He’s not answering his phone,” Brady say, returning that steely glare to me. “I got concerned.”
I nod. “He called me. I came over right after we landed.”
