Page 93 of Lucky Shot
I stand outside the door and just stare for several minutes, trying to catch my breath. Fuck, have I been this nervous for the last three days or has it finally caught up with me? Only a few feet and a single door separate us.
My fingers tingle, itching to touch him.
He’s right there. If I can just get myself together, I can finally close the distance.
I take a deep breath until my lungs protest and then slowly let it out. Okay. Okay, I can do this. I bring my phone to the door and the little red light flashes before it beeps and then turns green. The lock clicks loose, and I gently push the door open.
Grabbing my suitcase, I step into the room. As soon as the door closes behind me, I look up and my breath catches.
I’ve seen Noah a hundred times. So many times I couldn’t count. Many, many times in person, plus on social media, at games and at events. On summer yacht cruises with the ‘Gays Can Play’ group.
But as I stare at him, I swear I’m seeing him for the first time. His big brown eyes are wide as he stares at me. His blond hair looks darker because it’s damp, framing his beautiful face and touching his jaw. As he stares at me, his blush lips are parted slightly, and his brows are slightly puckered.
I inhale audibly.
Goddamn. I’ve never seen an angel until today.
“Pretty Boy,” I whisper. He shivers at my words. He inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering as he blinks rapidly.
Closing the distance, I gently touch his face. Taking his cheeks in my hands, and brushing my thumbs over his soft skin. “God, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”
His eyes glimmer and he swallows. Licks his lips. “You’re still not disappointed?” he whispers.
It really breaks my heart to know he thinks that. I press my lips to his, feeling him inhale again. His hands finally move and ball into my shirt at my stomach. It takes him a minute to respond fully, but then he’s practically sinking into me. His mouth is greedy. His hands move up my stomach, my chest, and over my shoulders to pull me tighter to him.
The way his body suddenly aligns with mine has me fighting not to groan. I pull away when I feel the dampness land on my cheeks. “What’s wrong?” I ask, still cradling his head.
Pretty tries to shake his head, blinking away his tears, which only causes more to fall. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and you’ll have never been here.”
I rest my forehead against his. “First, I’m going to remind you again that you could never disappoint me, Noah.” It’s weird saying his name. But it’s also strange to call him Pretty. It feels like I need something in between the two. Something to link them together. “And second, I’m right here. You’re not dreaming. This is real.”
He gives a watery laugh and presses his body a little more firmly to mine. I drop my hands, wrapping them around his waist. I’ve never felt someone who aligns so perfectly to me. Like he and I were cut from the same fabric and our pieces match exactly right.
“So real,” I whisper. “And I’m fucking glad it is.”
Pretty licks his lips again. “How was your flight?”
“Far too long. Yours?”
“I sat with Creed and worried about Max. So… at least I was distracted.”
“Have you heard from him?”
He shakes his head, frowning. “I’m worried. He never ignores me.”
“Give him some time. I’m sure he’s dealing with his world exploding right now.”
Pretty sighs. “Yeah.”
We’re too close to see each other properly, but I don’t want to stop touching him. I need to be as close as possible. My hands move over his back as his fingers work through my hair.
It doesn’t feel like enough, though. With my hands on his hips, I move us over to the bed and push him onto it. He laughs as he scootches back. I kick off my shoes and follow. I’m reminded of the little scene I’d imagined when I crawled up his body and sucked him off. My dick chubs at the memory and my heart quickens its rhythm.
When I’m over him, I press my mouth to his again and drape my body partially over his. Pretty’s leg hooks over my ass, his heel digging into my thigh. God, he feels so fucking good like this. His hands go back to my hair as he kisses me eagerly. Though I try to keep it slow and not too aggressive because we just don’t have time for that, he’s not exactly cooperating.
“You want to sit through dinner hard, Pretty Boy?” I ask.
“You think we can skip it?” He kisses up the side of my face.
