Page 21 of Misconduct Zone

His palms cup my face, and he angles my head to deepen the kiss. All my dreams fade to black and white because reality becomes a vivid kaleidoscope of exploding colors. We explore each other’s mouths, and I suck on his tongue, dragging a whimper from him.

My thigh bullies its way between his legs, and he grinds against me. The hand on the small of his back closes the distance between our bodies as I roll my hips so our cocks slide together.

“I was afraid you didn’t want me.” There’s relief in Dylon’s voice, which should not thrill me but does. It is astonishing he doubts my desire for him.

“I have never wanted anyone more than you.” I lay my truth bare for him to accept or reject me.

He yanks my head sideways and kisses my throat.

“Good. I want you all to myself.” He steps forward, pushing me back, then leads me to his bed.

Chapter 13

Dylon

My head spins, and I’m drunk off his kisses. His tongue against mine brings me higher than any drug I’ve ever experienced. I’m floating on clouds, delirious because his body is next to mine.

Lars pins me to the bed with his body weight, the fluffy white comforter billowing around us. He rips it out from under us and tosses it on the floor. He’s a heavy human blanket, lighting me up like the Vegas strip at night. “You can have me to yourself only if I getyouall to myself,” he says in a way that reaches my heart and takes hold like he won’t let go. Ever. His piercing blue eyes puncture my soul, and I would walk barefoot through fire all the way to Vegas for this man.

He’s so familiar, yet brand-new. I’ve watched his trapezius muscles as he lifts weights, and now I know the curve of them under my fingers. His eyes crave more as he touches me with hungry hands.

My greedy fingers run the length of his back until I grip his meaty ass and squeeze. His moan electrifies me. My palms are full of his power as he swivels his hips. He can deadlift four hundred and twenty pounds, and those legs are steel on top of mine.

My hands move through his thick hair to the corded muscles of his neck. This blows all my expectations out of the water, and I can’t get enough. I’d spent the past two days running from the conversation we needed to have. But we could’ve done this last night. We could’ve been doing this every night.

He’s been the constant in my life for the past few years, keeping me grounded. The progression of us feels inevitable, as if my very existence has been waiting for him. Yet, it’s surreal to jump into a physical relationship.

My heart beats so fast I’m sure it’s pounding against his chest. A blue whale’s heartbeat can be heard from two miles away. The team on this floor could hear mine if they listen hard enough. A rhythm so fast, it’s possible it will swim away and take up residence with Lars.

He shaved this morning, but his stubble scrapes against my facial hair, and that somehow becomes an erogenous zone. I’m a cat rubbing my face all over his, and his happiness fills my heart. I’m the one who makes him smile and laugh.

There’s nothing soft and gentle in the way he touches me. He’s possessive, as if claiming every inch of me. He fists the front of my T-shirt and hauls me up, ripping it off and tossing it over his head.

Lars’s eyes devour me, and goose bumps form along my arms. A single finger traces over my four-leaf clover and I shudder. After my shoulder injury, I regretted the tattoo, but his finger reminds me of why I got it. The clover symbolizes luck, but it’s a tribute to my hard work and how fortunate I am to do what I love. When he traces the outline with his tongue and kisses the center, I’m grateful all over again.

My nipples pucker into stiff peaks, and he lowers his head with his eyes on mine and bites one, worrying it between his teeth. I bow off the bed, which creates friction on our cocks.

I groan, so close to the edge. He must sense it because he slides to the side with his hip next to mine, separating our dicks. Aggravatingly, he stops kissing me when I try to pull him back and presses our foreheads together.

“Dylon.” His raspy voice scrapes out of his chest, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Talking’s overrated, and I need his lips back on mine. His hum vibrates in my chest as his thumb fits in the hollow of my throat while his fingers stroke my hammering pulse.

“I fear we are going too fast.”

“Fast? We’ve had months of foreplay. And finally,finally, I’ve got you where I want you.” My arms twine around him.

“Finally.” He smirks and kisses the tip of my nose. A childlike kiss should not make my heart skitter. “How long have you wanted this?”

“Don’t make me math. I hockey. I don’t math.” He lets me tug him back on top of me.

“I have wanted this for,” he checks his expensive watch I picked out with him, “two years, five months, three days, and give or take ten hours.”

My mouth falls open, and he closes it with a calloused finger.

“Kidding. Sort of. I have had a crush on you for ages.” He smooths my hair back from my face.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” I mentally try to go back in time and remember if he said or did anything. All I can remember are the flirty things I said.

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