Page 58 of We Could Be So Good
“Not this.” Nick swallows. “Nothing like this.”
Andy frowns and looks at him carefully. A little too carefully. Nick is being too serious and he’s ruining the mood. If there even is a mood, which Nick doubts.
“If I hug you, are you going to pass out?”
Nick brings a hand up to cover his eyes. “You’re the worst.”
“It’s against all the rules for you to be the worried one, Nick. Come here.” Andy steps closer and puts his arms around Nick’s neck. Nick lets his hands settle on Andy’s back, their chests flush together. He breathes in the unfamiliar scent of Andy’s hair. He must have used different shampoo at the hotel. Nick wants to put him in the shower and scrub him down, and just the thought ofthatscenario is more than his mind can handle.
Or, well, more than his dick can handle, because it’s hard and pressing into Andy’s stomach.
“Sorry,” Nick says.
“Shut up. Shut up shut up shutup.” Andy turns his head, pressing his face into Nick’s neck, and Nick can feel his breath, warm on his skin. “I want this. Do you?”
“Jesus Christ.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes.”
“You always smell so good.” As Andy speaks, his lips brush against Nick’s throat, and Nick wants to groan. Andy’s mouth is moving now, up and over, toward Nick’s mouth.
When he finally slides his lips over Nick’s, Nick involuntarily grips Andy’s shirt.
“Hi, Nick,” Andy says, and Nick can feel the smile against his mouth.
“Hi yourself,” Nick mumbles, and he pulls Andy closer. He feels the wiry muscles of Andy’s arms tighten around him at the same time Nick opens his mouth, just a little. Andy’s hands go up to cradle Nick’s face, cool against the flaming heat of Nick’s cheeks.
They’re pressed together now, chest to chest, no space between them, but Nick wants more, so he backs Andy up against the wall and presses him there.
“Oh shit,” Andy gasps. He’s hard now, too (Thank God, thank God, whispers the part of his brain that still needs reassurances), and Nick lets out a groan at the feel of him.
“Stop?”
“God no, don’t stop.” Andy twists them around so it’s Nick’s back against the wall, which is not a position he’s ever spent much time in, but with Andy it’s fine. Andy can shove him into however many walls he pleases.
“You want this,” Nick says, his lips moving against Andy’s. “You really do.”
Andy pulls back, just enough to give Nick a severely unimpressed look. “I told you.”
“I know, I know. You know what—” Here, Nick swears that he means to sayYou know what you want, but what comes out is “You know what gets your dick hard.”
“Nick,” Andy says, half laughing, but with this shuddering little rasp in his voice that makes Nick glad he has the wall to prop him up.
Andy moves one hand so it’s braced on the wall beside Nick’s head and the other goes to Nick’s throat. He presses a kiss to the divot of Nick’s collarbone. “You have no idea,” Andy murmurs.
Nick isn’t thinking clearly enough to understand what Andy’stalking about, so he dips his head for another kiss. He bites Andy’s lower lip and Andy makes a broken sound that goes like lightning through Nick’s body. He wants all these clothes gone. Clothes are such bullshit, it turns out. He untucks Andy’s shirt and pushes up his undershirt and gets a hand on his lower back, seeking out skin.
“Wait,” Andy pants. “Hold up.” But he doesn’t move—he still has Nick pressed against the wall.
Nick drops his hands. “You okay?”
Andy leans back and looks at Nick, his cheeks flushed and his eyes a little wild. He looks slightly deranged, and all Nick can think is that at least he isn’t the only one. “Time out.”
Nick can do that. He can do a time-out. He doesn’t know why they’d want to, but it doesn’t matter. “Okay,” he says. Tentatively, not sure if this is against whatever rules exist between them now, he puts a hand on Andy’s hip. Andy drops his head to Nick’s shoulder and sighs, his breath hot on Nick’s neck.
“I think I’m probably very bad at sex,” Andy blurts out, his words muffled against Nick’s collar.
