Gold - Linde K. A. - Страница 54
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She threw on a pair of Nike running shorts and a tank top, diffused her hair until it was in loose beachy waves rather than her normal stick-straight look, and then exited the locker room. Almost everyone else had already left, but she could still hear the football players rumbling around outside. This time of year, they would work until there was no more daylight, and then they’d turn on the field lights and keep working.
She rounded the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. She had been hoping to avoid this for another day, but fate didn’t seem to allow it.
“Bri,” Eric said.
His voice. God, his voice.
She kept her face impassive. “Hey.”
Four months. After four very long months without him, she had almost forgotten how hot he was. She had always thought it wasn’t fair that he was gay with those features. Now, her mind had to skip over that assessment she had made so often and remember that he was most definitely not gay.
“How was your summer?” she asked when he didn’t say anything.
He stared and drank her in. “Who cares? You weren’t in it.”
“Eric,” she said.
She shook her head but didn’t look away. His hazel eyes trapped her, even from this distance.
“We can’t do this right now.”
“If I keep letting you decide when we can talk, we never will. You can’t pretend that nothing happened.”
“I’m not, all right?” she said, her voice a little too loud. “I’m not pretending anything. I know perfectly well what happened.”
He stormed over to her. “Then, talk to me. I’m still me, you’re still you, and that means we’re still us. Just the way we were. You can open up to me.”
“I did. I told you I needed space. The thought of you touching someone else made me nauseous, and I needed to process. What part of that did you miss?” she yelled.
Yet, she didn’t step away from him. She couldn’t. At this point, she could smell him—musky and all man with a hint of something purely Eric. She hadn’t even recognized it until he was standing before her, but it was just…him.
“None of it. Not a single thing.”
His hand reached up and swept her hair off of her face. He left it resting on her neck, and her pulse raced.
“I like your hair like this. Natural,” he murmured.
She swallowed hard. All of the brand-new happy Bri feelings vanished from her mind. There was only this moment with his eyes and hands and lips.
Then, those lips were touching hers, and everything went cloudy in the most perfect way. Never had she imagined their conversation would lead here. She had imagined arguing, fighting, a whole lot of yelling, and storming out the door. But his kisses were intoxicating, and she was awash with the drunken feeling.
He grabbed her hand. “Come with me.” Then, he pulled her away.
A protest rose up in her throat, but he didn’t stop as he wove her through the hallways and into a back locker room. It was dark and deserted. No one came back here this early in the season, and even if the football players did, they wouldn’t be done for another couple of hours. But that didn’t explain why Eric was here…
She opened her mouth to ask him, but he pressed his lips to hers, and all coherent thought vanished once more. How did he do that?
He pushed her back against a locker, and his hands slid under her tank top to touch her skin. She gasped into his mouth, every nerve responding to him, to this. She hadn’t been touched in over a month, but it wasn’t just that. She knew it. It terrified her. She should stop. But his tongue was massaging hers, his hands were on her skin, and his body was covering hers. This was Eric. Her body was screaming to let it happen.
“E…”
“Please,” he breathed against her lips. “Tell me to stop, and I will, but you want this. I want this.”
“I…” She didn’t have the words.
She didn’t know what she wanted. Everything was so confusing, but this right here made perfect sense. Eric made perfect sense.
His hands slipped all the way under her shirt. His thumb flicked against the soft unlined bra she was wearing, and her body arched into him.
“I’ve thought about doing this for months.” He kissed her throat, and his other hand grabbed her ass. “I’ve thought about how you would taste, how your skin would feel against mine, what this would feel like.” He grabbed her leg, hoisted it around his hip, and pressed against her.
Her body responded like a lit match.
“Tell me you’ve thought about it, too.”
She had. She most definitely had fantasized about what he would do to her if he weren’t gay. But she had kept herself from getting too lost in a fantasy that would never come true. She hadn’t wanted to feel, and now, it seemed all she was able to do.
“I’ve thought about it,” she admitted.
He sighed as if he hadn’t been sure, and she had confirmed everything for him. He continued with renewed purpose. He lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. His hands traveled the length of her body, admiring every inch of it. His fingers ran teasingly along the inside of her shorts, and she squirmed against him.
She couldn’t take it any longer. Her fingers found the hem of his shirt and yanked him closer. She wrenched his shirt off next, exposing his chiseled chest, and she reclaimed his lips.
The energy crackled between them. In seconds, her shorts were in a pile on the floor. Then, she tugged down his zipper, and his pants slid over his hips. Eric grabbed her other leg and forced her body back hard against the locker digging into her back. She ignored the feeling. There was so much pent-up energy between them that she couldn’t stop this train ride even if she wanted to, and her body was absolutely saying not to stop.
Their breath mingled, and their eyes met. Something passed between them that she couldn’t even begin to explain. But it was powerful and terrifying. Her heart constricted as she opened herself to him in a way she never had to anyone else before.
He filled her in one swift motion, claiming her body. When he moved, she closed her eyes and slammed her head back into the locker. Their bodies melded together fiercely, desperately. It was perfection. Her nails clawed into his skin. His grip on her hips tightened. She was sure there would be bruises. But neither of them stopped.
Bodies smacked together. Eric picked up the pace, and sweat beaded on his forehead. She could feel it slicking her own back in the hot locker room, undoing the shower she had just indulged in. Her body didn’t care what she was giving up for this, and she was giving up much. She knew it.
As he hit the right spot with her yells filling the space and his orgasm following right after, she knew that something had truly cracked inside her. And she couldn’t go back to not feeling. Yet emotions like this only brought pain, not the joy and happiness she had been feeling for the past month.
Eric dropped her legs back to the ground and rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Fuck, Bri.”
Her heart was still racing in her chest, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. She was shaking, actually terrified of what this was. It wasn’t supposed to be like this—hot and cold and full of extremes and heartbreak. It was supposed to be effortless, and things with Eric had always been complicated.
She reached for her clothes and righted herself. “I should go,” she murmured.
“Wait, what?” he asked.
He touched for her, and she spun away from him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything.” She covered her face, heaving in a deep breath.
“That was incredible. There was nothing wrong with that,” he said.
She could hear the pain in his voice.
“I can’t do this! Don’t you understand? We can’t be together!” she yelled. It made no sense with what she had just done, but she was pushing all of that aside and giving in to this terror welling inside of her.
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