Page 201 of Playing the Pucking Game
But…but I don’t think I can.
I don’t?—
The second his lips brush mine, every single thought in my head vanishes.
A moan rumbles between us, but I don’t know if it came from me or him as I blindly reach for him.
My hands hit the hot, taut skin of his stomach, and I delight in the way his muscles dance as I slide them upwards until I’ve looped them around his neck.
He steps forward, pinning me against the door as I open for him.
Oh god, this is heaven.
Kissing Linc is like nothing I’ve ever experienced with anyone else.
It’s all-consuming.
It’s…it’s everything.
“Parker,” he groans, deepening the kiss even further. But as much as I want it, hearing that drags me kicking and screaming back to reality.
We can’t do this.
One second, I’m right there at his mercy, and the next, I’ve ducked under his arm and I’m backing away from him.
“W-what?” he questions before leaning forward and pressing his forehead against the cool door.
I stand there a few feet away, watching his back and shoulders rise and fall with his increased breathing—mesmerized by the way his muscles ripple with the movement.
He takes a few seconds to get himself together before he turns around. And the moment he does and his eyes find mine, I question every single one of my life choices.
“Linc?” I whisper, hating the rejection I can see so clearly in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” he says softly as he walks deeper into my room. “It’s—you did?—”
His words falter as his eyes land on my bed.
I follow his attention and am instantly hit with the reminder of what I was in the middle of when he knocked on my door.
“Parker,” he rasps, his voice suddenly a few octaves lower.
My face burns red hot. I can only imagine what colour my cheeks are.
“Oh my god,” I mutter as my desire and embarrassment collide.
Lifting his arm, he combs his hair back as he rips his eyes from my bed and turns to me. “Parker, were you…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence; he doesn’t need to.
I nod, unable to find any words.
Even if I could find a lie, what would be the point? The evidence speaks for itself.
“While wearing my shirt?” he asks, his eyes dropping to the cotton covering me. His attention lingers on my chest, and I have no doubt it’s because my nipples are hard and trying to bust through.
“Mmmhmm.”
“Okay, wow. Fuck,” he mumbles almost incoherently.“Did you…did you…finish?”
