Page 133 of Not That Impossible

He stroked his hands up to frame my face. For a moment we stayed like that, gazing at each other. His thumbs traced my cheekbones. His chest rose and fell in a deep sigh. “Get on the bed, Jasper,” he said softly. The humour and playfulness had faded, leaving nothing but need and focus on his face.

I helpfully shoved his trousers all the way down to his ankles, then threw myself back on the bed.

He let me see all of him. I don’t think he was hiding deliberately before, at least not from a sense of awkwardness about his body. Probably it was a control thing. Holding himself back.

He wasn’t holding anything back now.

He undressed without haste, watching me watch him as he did it.

He had a light furring of hair on his chest, sandy gold like his hair. Liam was built broad and solid. Back when he’d played rugby, he’d been one of the big guys who ploughed down the pitch with the ball, dragging ten grappling, swearing men behind him as he powered toward the goal. He had muscle—I’d felt his strength—but it wasn’t as defined as mine.

His appearance spoke of strength. The stony face that I loved so much spoke of the will to use that strength to get his way. And yet no one had ever touched me as gently as Liam had.

No one had ever looked at me the way he was looking at me right now.

I pulled the pillow over my face.

Seconds later, he stretched over me and pulled it away, his gaze intense. He didn’t say anything. He lifted my chin with two fingers and kissed me. Light and sweet and then, when I was chasing him for it, hard and wet.

His weight pushed me down into the mattress as he controlled the kiss, and by the time he pulled back enough to speak, I had both arms around him, trying to get closer.

“What do you want?” he said raggedly. “How do you want it?” He thrust against me and we both groaned at the electrifying sensation of our cocks sliding against each other.

“I don’t know.” He thrust again and my hands landed on his arse with a loud smack. I dug my fingers into the hard muscle and hauled him closer. “I don’t care! I just want to be yours.”

“Oh, you’re mine,” he said. “Don’t ever doubt that.” He rolled off me and strode over to where he’d left his clothes in a heap. He snagged his trousers, rustled around in the pocket, and came back with condoms and lubricant. His breathing was quick and harsh, his cheeks flushed. He ran his hot gaze over me and shivered.

I flexed. I couldn’t help preening.

Liam’s lips lifted at one side. “You’re a bit of a showoff, aren’t you?” he said, opening the lubricant.

“Seems that way. Only for you.”

“Mhm.” He settled back over me and used a knee to push my legs open. I felt his touch behind my balls then between my cheeks.

He watched me the whole time he prepared me, seeking out ways to make me catch my breath, to make my stomach tense or my legs twitch. One finger became two. At some point, it must have become three, but he was kissing me again and I lost all sense of reality. All I knew was Liam—on me, over me, his hand working between my legs, his lips playing over mine.

I had a horrible feeling I was making a stream of ridiculous noises, whimpering and gasping along with the constant restless motion as I slowly squirmed beneath him. I didn’t try to censor myself, because he kept whispering things like, “Yes, that’s it,” and, “I love hearing you,” and, “Does that feel good?”

I was dazed with the tender, thorough attention, feeling utterly spoiled and cherished by it. I barely had time to register the cool air as he moved away to put the condom on, and then he was back. He grasped my right leg around the knee and lifted it up and to the side, opening me.

I closed my eyes.

“Please look at me,” he said. “Jasper.”

I did. I had one hand loosely draped over his damp neck. He reached back and caught my wrist, then drew my arm down to lay it on the pillow above my head. He held me like that, pressing my wrist to the pillow as his cock eased deep, his body pressed against mine.

He went slow and steady until he was all the way in.

“Okay?” he said, kissing my parted lips.

It took some effort to focus on his face.

He waited, smiling, until I nodded and managed to say yes.

He started to move. For the first few strokes he kept it slow and easy, shifting his hips and adjusting his weight.

“Aahhhh,” I cried out, my stomach tightening almost painfully as sensation lit up my pelvis. “Fuck.”

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