Page 97 of These Wicked Hearts

“Atlas.” A soft hand runs over my chest. “Hey.”

I open my eyes and focus for a moment, watching Gage look at me. “What? Shit, I fell asleep again.”

He smiles at me then kisses me quickly. “Your game is about to start. Sorry to wake you up.”

“It’s okay. Thank you.” My head’s a bit spacey as I try and wake up. I suck in a breath, feeling his hand on me and looking down at my erection. “Oh, thank god.”

He laughs. “What? Were you worried?”

“I knew it was just the concussion, but still. I’m relieved.” I’ve pretty much spent the whole day sleeping on and off. I think at one point Gage was playing the guitar. Or maybe I dreamed that.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still kind of out of it. My doctor said it would be like this for a bit. Lots of rest for me, I guess.” A soft smile spreads on Gage’s lips before he presses a firm kiss to the center of my chest. I don’t know what’s happening right now, but what I do know is that I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as badly as I want him.

I think about Grey, and I love him. I do. He’s my best friend, and I’ll always have a special place for him. This, though . . . this feels different.

Gage moves down, rubbing his face along my stomach, pressing slow kisses into my skin. I’ve spent most of the day on his couch, sleeping and watching movies. Most of the time he’s lain with me, just like this, with his body on mine. Naked. His suggestion, not mine. My breath stutters as he practically purrs against me.

He’s just been touching me idly. He comes back up and tucks himself under my arm. His fingers dust along my chest then skim across my nipple as my fingers lightly caress his hip. I’ve never felt this comfortable with anyone in my life.

“What do you want me to do, Atlas?” I’m confused until he gets up and inches down my body, pressing kisses along my stomach. I don’t feel that little twinge of insecurity. Not when he can’t stop touching me. I want to know if he’s as crazy about this as I am.

I pull one leg up to give him room, so he can settle between my thighs. His head rests on me, his lips so close to my dick. He lightly touches me and looks up with a grin.

I find my voice. “Touch me. Please.” I’m barely breathing. I can’t look away. I’m so hard. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life. Looking down, I see beads of precum pearling from my slit. Gage’s clear eyes watch me hungrily. “Fuck.” He leans down as my thighs spread a little wider, and he laces his fingers around my cock, giving me a slow stroke from root to tip.

“Beautiful.” I love that playful smirk.

The sex is amazing, but I’m starting to realize that’s only part of it. It’s just this. Us together, on my couch or in his apartment. Watching a game, movies. Anything really.

I crave him so much it drives me crazy. The sex is top tier, but I think I like this more. The in-between moments that make living not so miserable. With Gage around, I’m not afraid my past will come and haunt me.

Under Gage, my mind doesn’t scare me.

Logically, we both have demanding jobs, but right here, in this moment . . . this is everything.

He’s everything.

“What’s wrong?” His pierced brow lifts.

What’s wrong? Nothing, right? Then why does it feel like something is? “I think . . .” I swallow. “This would be easier if your mouth wasn’t near my dick.”

His eyes brighten with his laugh. “Oh?” He licks his lips. “What if it was on your dick?”

He wraps his sexy lips around my cock and fuuuck, what was I even thinking about? My back arches slightly when he takes me as far as he can go, burying his nose into my pubes. He swallows around me and I lose my fucking mind. “Jesus, Gage.”

He pops off my cock with a laugh then lays his head on my pelvis. It’s so lazy and it feels nice.

Having him here feels nice. He was worried about me. Doesn’t that mean something? “This just feels good.” Lazily, he strokes me. No real pressure or meaning. Just touching my body, pressing kisses here and there.

I comb my fingers through his blue strands. I hate to move him, but I need more. Not more sex, more of him. His tattoos pop against his skin under the soft light in the living room. I thought his couch would be a little small, but we both fit tightly here on it. I do prefer my circular movie sofa, though. It allows plenty of room to lie down and watch TV.

Or have a pretty boy lie with you.

I switch his TV to the sports channel and choose the Otters broadcast. Gage comes back to me, lying against my body, tucked under my arm. His hand goes to the hair on my chest, running his fingers through it. “Who are your friends playing tonight?” he says absently, his eyes on my body. I used to be self-conscious about the hair on my chest, but Gage’s fingers caress a slow trail down the center of my stomach.

“Otters and Reapers. They’re in North Carolina right now.”