Page 37 of Tempting the Teammate
I’d spent years falling asleep to the fantasy of Griffin kissing me, thrusting his tongue inside my mouth, letting his saliva mix with mine, and rubbing my cock with one strong hand. I’d dreamed of his hands on my ass, cupping and grinding, squeezing and spreading, undressing me with rough carelessness that only left tattered pieces of cotton around the floor. I’d spent sleepless nights lying in my bed, face buried in the pillow, blanket tossed aside, ass lifted like he was there, willing to take me. And when we’d moved in together, I’d spent my nights aware of every breath, every snore, and every turn that came from him.
I moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss, and felt him shudder against me. His hands found my waist, fingers digging into my sides through the fabric of my shirt, holding on like I might disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly.
Every fantasy I’d ever had paled in comparison to this. The reality of Griffin Shaw kissing me with desperate urgency, his breath hot against my face, his body pressed so close I could feel his heart hammering against my chest. This was better than any storySmutWriteror anyone else had ever crafted because it was real, happening now, his tongue sliding against mine with increasing hunger and desire.
I broke away to breathe, gasping, and Griffin’s mouth immediately found my neck. The scrape of his stubble against sensitive skin sent electricity straight down my spine, pooling heat low in my belly. My fingers tangled in his hair, that stupid floppy hair I’d been staring at for years, soft and thick between my fingers exactly like I’d imagined.
“Andrei,” he breathed against my throat, and hearing my name in that wrecked voice nearly undid me completely.
“Yeah,” I managed, pulling his face back to mine.
Our kisses grew hungrier, less careful. His hands roamed up my back and under my hoodie, warm palms against bare skin. I arched into the touch, wanting more, needing everything.
Griffin’s hips rocked against mine, and I felt how hard he was through his jeans, felt the thickness of it pressing against my thigh. The knowledge that he wanted this, wanted me, sent a surge of possession through my chest so fierce it bordered on painful.
But I pushed him away, not because I didn’t want it, but because I didn’t trust myself with it. I didn’t trust myself with feeling even an inch more of his body, with touching his skin with my fingertips, with feeling his tongue with mine. If we let it go even a moment further, I would fall apart and give myself to him just like I had in every fantasy I’d ever conjured. “Wait,” I whispered, my voice weak and strangled with the heat and desire that made me shudder. “We can’t.”
“No,” Griffin said. “Of course not.” He swallowed hard. “We’ll do it the right way.”
“What’s that?” I asked, ears perking with curiosity despite myself.
Griffin stepped back, his cheeks flushed and glowing, eyes glassy with want, and dick so hard it created an intimidating bulge in his midsection that made my mouth water. He quirked a side of his mouth and nodded. “We’re going on a date.”
I forced a laugh, but the truth was, I was dizzy. It was an outrageous thing, imagining a date with Griffin. “If you treat me like one of your girls, I swear to God…”
“I’ll be a gentleman,” he said, crossing his heart.
Not that he hadn’t always been a gentleman with his dates. All I knew was that he rarely followed up. Then again, I’d never stayed in touch with my hookups, either.
“Be one,” I said and lifted the can of beer that was almost empty and far too warm. “And bring us another round.”
Griffin’s smile threatened to undo me as he clicked his fingers in praise of the idea and stepped backward toward the door, gaze glued to my face. “I’ll be right back.”
He went out, and I stood in my spot, lifting my hands and looking at the way my fingers trembled uncontrollably. Even worse was the tightness in my cheeks as my lips stretched into the stupidest smile my face could produce. If the rising giggle reached audible levels, I would have promptly stabbed myself with the ruler that sat on my desk.
I covered my face and turned to the window, rubbing my cheeks and eyes, letting the ringing in my ears pass.
This couldn’t be real. Nothing about it felt real. It was one of those recurring dreams I had where Griffin simply stepped into the shower while I was in the middle of it, pinned me against the wall, and told me not to make a sound. It was just like that.
Any moment now, I would wake up hard and disappointed, frustrated to the point of wanting to scream, yet unable to make a sound because he would be sleeping six feet away from me.
But I didn’t wake up when Griffin returned with two cold beers. In fact, I dared to believe that I was already wide-awake because there was no way I could dream of a can of beer that cold and his hand so warm as our fingers brushed.
“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head a little as he examined my face.
“Are you?” I asked.
He smiled and gave it a moment to think. “I am. I’m very much okay now.”
“Yeah. Me too.” I sat down on the my bed, adjusting myself so that the clear physical response to the fact we had just made out wasn’t the first thing he saw. Yet when I looked up, Griffin wasstanding by the bed, and his gaze was shamelessly moving over me.
I bit my lip and cracked open the can.
“You know, it’s so crazy that I never realized how hot you were,” Griffin said, sitting next to me just far enough so that we each had some room to move, but his knee freely touched mine. “We’ve lived together for a year. I’ve seen you…well, I’ve seen you in nothing but briefs a million times.”
I snorted. “That’s not all there is to being attracted to someone.”
“I know, but you’d think I’d add up the pieces,” he said, amused. “Anyway, thank fuck for the internet writers. They described your ass in thorough detail.”
