Page 30 of Off the Pitch

Ugh, this was so not suitable for a kid’s movie.

I reached across him to steal a handful of popcorn, trying to take my filthy mind off images of Christian in bed. The tub was half-empty already, and for some odd reason that made me happy. It was nice to see Christian so relaxed for once, not stressed about upcoming matches or tournaments or the mutterings about him being England’s next superstar. As much as he tried not to let it bother him, I could see the anxiety in his shoulders whenever reporters pestered him about it after matches, and there was a sick feeling in my stomach that he wasn’t ready to cope with that sort of pressure.

“This is so good,” Christian whispered, a giddy smile on his face as he turned to me quickly. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

I don’t know what made me do it. Maybe it was the fact that the cinema was half-empty and there was no one near enough to see, maybe it was just seeing Christian so happy, or maybe it was because I was already stupidly in love with him, but under the cover of dark I reached out and took his nearest hand in mine.

Christian froze. For a moment I thought he’d wrench his hand away, but then he squeezed my fingers and snuggled into his chair, once again absorbed.

After that, I gave up concentrating and just watched him instead.

When the film ended, Christian was still holding my hand, and he gave it one last squeeze before releasing it to stretch his arms. Not that I minded. Under the brightening lights, I could see his muscles tense under his t-shirt, pulling it deliciously tight. Plus, he also made the cutest little squeaky noises.

He practically bounced out of the screen as high as a kite, although I wasn’t sure if it was out of happiness or because of the sugar. Not that it mattered to me.

“That was amazing! Did you like it? What did you think of the ending? I was so sure I was going to cry. I think I nearly did, but it was so sweet. I wonder if Lily will come see it with me. I think I want to see it again.” My heart fluttered as Christian chattered away, pulling me over to his car, which he’d insisted on bringing because the theatre was nearer to his house in Blackheath, on the edge of London.

“Don’t worry,” he added, booting up the heat to ward off the frozen November chill, “I’ll drop you at home.”

“Are you sure? It’s miles out of your way. I can just get the tube.”

“No, I want to.” He smiled softly, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks. “Then I can spend more time with you.”

“Thank you,” I said, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. But at the last moment he turned, and his lips met mine, soft and sweet and oh so perfect.

The drive home was quiet, with moments of comfortable silence broken by comments on the film. I’d thought Christian would just drop me off outside the house, but he found a parking space and was out of the car before I could question it.

“Do you want to come in?” I joked, digging in my pocket for my keys.

“Maybe just for a few minutes?” He raised an eyebrow, and I smirked. Maybe he wanted another goodnight kiss? Maybe he wanted something more? He definitely wanted something.

The door clicked open, to reveal the house in the same state I’d left it. Kit probably hadn’t even left his room since he’d disappeared with the chocolate biscuits. Good. At least we’d have some privacy.

The two of us stood in the hall, almost nose to nose. Christian’s moment of confidence seemed to have passed, and all that was left was an adorable bundle of uncertainty. I stepped closer, reaching out to caress his jaw with one hand while the other slid around his waist, pulling him to me. His body was a firm wall of muscle against mine, heat bleeding into my fingers.

Our lips met in another sweet kiss, his lips slotting against mine as if they belonged there. But I wanted more.

I slid my tongue across his lips, loving the way they parted to allow me into his mouth. Christian groaned, his body melting against me as my tongue caressed his, our kisses quickly moving from chaste to the furthest thing from it.

There was a soft thud as his body hit the wall, I pressed him into it, my hands running wild. Christian gasped as my fingers played with the hem of his t-shirt, sliding underneath to caress the soft skin beneath.

I could feel the press of his erection on my thigh as my knee nudged between his legs. Fuck, I wanted him. I wanted to take him apart until he was writhing underneath me, breathless and delirious with pleasure. I wanted to know exactly what noises he’d make. Would they be the same as they had been when we were younger? Somehow, I doubted it, but that made me want it even more.

Luckily, my brain was online enough to realise that this was far enough for tonight. I’d promised him slow, and that did not involve anything further than this. In all honesty, it probably shouldn’t have even involved making out against a wall, my hand under his shirt and him panting against my lips, his hips seconds away from rutting against me.

We broke apart, both of us breathless. Christian looked slightly dazed, his lips slick and swollen and pink. I leant my head on his shoulder, taking deep breaths to calm my racing heart.

“That was…” Christian started.

“Yeah, it was.” Stepping back, I smiled down at him, loving the flush that was dancing across his skin. He looked drunk on kisses and absolutely edible.

“I should let you get home,” I said, trying not to sound halfhearted about it. “You have a game tomorrow.”

Christian smiled softly, his blush intensifying. “I know, but maybe I could stay a little longer? And we could do that again?”

Damn, this man was going to be the death of me.

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