Page 32 of Golden

His frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s senior year. We’re both busy. You’ve clearly got a lot of shit to figure out, and I don’t have time for that. Between The Howl, swimming, my degree, and now helping with your fundraiser, I don’t have time to hold your hand as you navigate your awakened sexuality.” My words are meant to be casual, but I’m bitterly aware that every syllable leaving my mouth makes me sound more and more like an asshole.

Sol’s eyes widen and he barks a laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

His tone has my shoulders tensing, but I say nothing. All I can do is watch as Sol, lips parted, pushes his fingers through his perfect, swept back hair, looking everywhere but at me.

But then he does.

His bright blue eyes fix on me with a glaring intensity that has my breath catching in my lungs.

“First of all, fuck you. Who said I wanted your help? Who told you I needed you to hold my hand? Who the fuck are you to tell me what I want?”

His words aren’t harsh, just filled with disbelief, but my muscles tense as annoyance begins to seep through me. “Look, I didn’t ask for any of this. Don’t get pissed at me for whatever shit you’re going through.”

Sol stares at me, his jaw clenching. Then he takes a step forward. “So, you weren’t flirting with me at the Hive? You didn’t choose to follow me to Zak’s room? You didn’t kiss me? I’m sorry, Wes. I must have you confused with somebody-fucking-else.”

Standing my ground, I square my shoulders, using the couple of extra inches I have to peer down at him, but Sol doesn’t back down. Instead, he steps closer, his hard chest brushing mine.

“Don’t act like you didn’t want something to happen between us.”

My brain and body war with each other as I stare into his eyes, close enough that I can see the different shades of blue striped around his iris. Part of me wants to dip my head and lick my way into his mouth until he melts against me like he did that night. The other half knows I should step back and put space between us. Don’t engage. Just grab my stuff and get out of here. The sensible thing to do is to walk away.

Sol’s eyes drop, his gaze searing my skin as it roams over my naked torso. My fingers clench at my side, glad that, beneath my towel, my tight-as-fuck jammers are restraining most of the hard-on I seem to have whenever Sol is close enough to touch.

“I don’t know what you’re so fucking scared of,” he grits out, his gaze fixing somewhere over my shoulder as he leans away from me. “You’re acting like I want a relationship or something.”

My pulse hammers against my skin as my brain flicks through a dozen different ways this conversation could go down. The problem is, I don’t know which scenario I’m rooting for. Well, I know which one my dick is rooting for, but he doesn’t get a vote.

“What do you want, then?” I ask, my voice a hell of a lot rougher than I intend it to be. “A quick fuck? No strings?”

Sol’s eyes snap to mine, a mix of surprise, fear and desire swirling in their sky-blue depths. “No. I . . . Fuck. I . . .”

A quiet laugh leaves my lips. “Sol, you couldn’t even text me back. You didn’t have the balls to come find me when you got back from break. I sure as hell know you’re not going to drop your pants and let me claim that perfect fucking virgin ass.”

Sol’s breath catches and the sound makes my already hard dick swell. For a second, I think he’s going to turn and walk away, but then he steps closer, his chest pushing against mine until I’m forced to step back, my shoulders hitting the cold metal of the lockers behind me.

“You don’t know the first fucking thing about me,” he bites out.

Once again, this is where I should shove him off me, throw on my sweats and get the hell out of there. But it seems the sensible part of my psyche is still on vacation, because instead, I reach out and grab his shoulders, turning us and slamming him up against the lockers.

“You’re wrong,” I breathe, leaning in until his lips are so fucking close, I can almost taste them. “I do know things about you.”

Sol’s jaw is still taut, his eyes narrowed, but he does nothing to try to get out of my grip. Not even as my right hand moves from his shoulder to lightly grip his throat, my thumb stroking the thick column of his neck.

“I know,” I murmur, leaning closer still, “that you like it when I take what I want.”

It’s only an inkling—nothing more than the delicious memory of how he gave in so readily to my kiss—but as I say the words, I know I’m right. Sol’s breath leaves him in a heavy exhale, and I can’t help the smile that pulls on my lips.

“Are you hard, Sol?” I murmur against his skin, my lips brushing his ear. “Does your dick like the idea of doing as you’re told?”

His eyes flutter closed with the slightest inhale, and he nods. We’re close enough that all I have to do is shift my hips forward a little to feel the truth of his answer. The action pulls a noise halfway between a groan and a whimper from his throat, and I swallow, my throat thick with desire.

Even as I think how stupid this is and how I should one hundred percent back away, my mouth betrays me.

“Take it out.”

Sol’s breathing is rapid, his eyes still closed as his chest heaves under my splayed palm, pressing him against the locker. My other stays around his neck, my thumb stroking gentle lines up and down his throat, catching his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

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