Page 13 of Top Shelf
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t, and I think you know that. I’m taking a big risk here, so.” He stopped when his voice cracked, and that’s when I broke.
I seized his wrists and tugged until he understood what I was saying. He was practically boneless as he slid his thighs across mine and straddled me. He was a goalie—his flexibility was out of this world, and the way his knees tipped apart in an almost perfect split was…fuck. It was gorgeous.
This wasn’t my first time with a hockey player. Before anyone in the league was out, we used to give each other the nod, the heated gaze, then find each other in hotel rooms late at night when no one was looking.
But this was the first time I was holding a man on my lap who made me feel…shit, there weren’t even words for it. Alivewould be the only way I could truly describe it. It felt like my heart was beating for the first time in years—since I’d last set my skates on NHL ice.
My lungs were full now, and I leaned in, taking a deep inhale of his scent. He smelled a little like weed smoke and a lot like some cheap-ass commissary soap that they had in tiny bottles on campus.
It was fucking glorious.
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
I took his chin between my fingers, tipped his face up, and met his gaze. He held it as long as he could before his eyes darted back down to my lips. But I had his attention. I could feel it like a second heartbeat.
“Yes, I want to have sex with you. I’d like to give you anything you want, Ferris.”
“I want sex,” he said with a tiny chuckle, then stopped and hesitated. “Um. Can I…can I top?”
“Anything you want,” I repeated. The thought of having him deep inside me was…Christ. My dick kicked in my boxers, and I squirmed. “Just be careful of my knee.”
He looked back into my eyes, and with sincerity I rarely heard from other people, he nearly echoed my words back to me. “Anything you need.”
Chapter Four
Ferris
The momenthis hands touched my butt—like really touched my butt—the panic set in. I could use my friends’ advice on how to be sexy and suave. They all said I had a ton of rizz—not a word my brain actually picked up on, so I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but whatever it was, they said I had it.
They said it would make picking guys up easy.
And considering I had a hot-as-fuck former NHL player touching my butt, they were probably right. But that’s where it all ended. I’d been too afraid to tell Quinn that I was a virgin. That my only experience was one sloppy kiss at a frat party my sophomore year with some guy in my marine biology class. I deeply regretted it because he’d tasted like beer and Cheetos and used too much tongue, which made me want to gag.
He’d cupped my crotch and smiled at me, but I think he’d seen in that moment I was about to heave all over his shoes because he let me go and melted back into the crowd.
I never saw him again.
My ability to fake it ’til I made it officially ended here, with letting Quinn devour my mouth until my toes were literally curling and my dick was threatening to break through from my jeans.
I had to tell him the truth about me. It wasn’t a fair secret to keep.
“Ferris.”
Right. Right. Yes. I was on his lap, and we were supposed to be making out, but I got lost in my head. Panic shot up my spine, and I looked down at where my fingers were all twisted up in his shirt.
“Hey. You look like you’re going to freak out,” Quinn murmured. He coasted fingers over the back of my neck, the pressure firm and perfect. “Can you talk to me?”
I nodded, swallowed thickly, then looked up. I couldn’t meet his gaze. It was too hard. But I could focus on the lush lips that had just been devouring mine. “Sorry.”
“No. I’m not looking for an apology. I need to know what’s wrong.”
“I haven’t, ah…done this.”
The hand holding my hip spasmed, and then he squeezed until my gaze flickered up to his. It was only for a moment, but I saw panic in his eyes. “With a man? Or at all?”
I nodded.
“Both?”
