Air leaves my lungs while I watch him slicing through the water, length after length. He’s a machine and my low estimations of Sage Fierro drag an inch from the gutter. The guy can move. And he looks good doing it.
I heel a hand over my dick, willing it to calm down. Encouraging it to want the very willing pussies waiting for me at Bates’ house.
I can’t make myself move.
So I watch him.
Breathing heavily through my nose.
I watch him as though attraction is brand new to me and I’m figuring out a new puzzle.
A guy I can’t want.
I don’t want.
No matter what crazy shit my body thinks it’s doing.
C H A P T E R 4
Sage
Someone is watching me.
I search out the area surrounding the pool and find nothing out of the ordinary. Early morning swimmers are there like I am. The swim team meets soon and some of them are waiting on the side warming up, but none have their eyes on me.
Assuming it’s paranoia, I kick off my sliders and dive into the deep end.
The sense of being watched stays with me for over thirty lengths. On my last turn, my body fatigued, showing I’ve had enough exercise. I haul ass through the water and using upper body strength I pull myself out in one move.
I’m halfway dry in the empty locker room when I sense someone.
It’s a twitch of recognition. A sizzle of awareness down my spine and I know who it is before I turn around.
Finding Finn Maverick is about the last person I expect. Yet his scowling face doesn’t bring surprise, because why the hell wouldn’t he be following me?
The stalker needs a new hobby that doesn’t include glowering at me.
“Lost your way, Maverick?” I inquire, scrubbing the towel over my sopping hair. “The jocks’ changing room is on the other side of the school.”
“Funny, Fierro.” He deadpans and scans his eyes lazily over me. When he reaches my eyes again, I swallow slow. His scrutiny has me itchy. “Who knew the nerd would know how to do any sport. Trying to prove your masculinity?”
Fucker.
“Yeah, because that’s what I need to do. I read your blog post; thought I’d give your manly tips a try. How’d I do?”
I watch the tick work through his tight jaw. Every inch of his long body seems to grow tighter before my eyes.
Do I care if I’ve pissed him off? Nah.
I have no tolerance for his crap today. Not if he was the one who was watching me, he’s responsible for his own anger.
When he crosses the locker room in two long strides, he looks like an angry prowling animal, staring a hole through me. Instead of the punch I anticipate, he puts both hands on my shoulders and shoves me hard against the wall. Coming into the space with me.
His ebony head hangs low. Each exhale growing heavier.
What the hell? It’s the first time he’s been physical, and it takes me a moment to know how I feel about it.
My lungs inflate hard when I smell the cleanness of him standing so close.
It’s a big effort not to push him back so I can put my hands on all that hardness looming over me.
And then I go for it.
Against all logical reason.
Finn’s roughness brings a burst of lust from within me that lights me up until I can hardly breathe. That’s when I grab the back of his neck. Eliciting a groan so fucking hot from him, my temples throb with lust.
His nostrils flare, and I brace for a punch.
Finn’s mouth comes out of nowhere.
Hard softness pressing down on mine, stealing my air.
He’s kissing me before I’m ready for it, and my heart thrashes against my rib cage so fiercely he should be able to feel it.
Shock doesn’t stop me from opening up when his tongue demands it by pushing against the seam of my mouth. My fingers tighten around his neck and he grunts into my lips. Pressing hard against me, locking us together like two fucked up puzzle pieces.
A couple of inches taller than me. I’m surrounded in his scent, drugged to the taste of my tormentor’s lips as he fucking eats me alive.
He sucks and slurps, biting me. His kiss is like nothing I’ve had before, and I’m sick to my stomach that it’s the best kiss ever.
I don’t expect him to taste as spicy as he does. It’s addicting. I chase the taste a little more before I know I should shove him away. Pushing my tongue over his until he gets the message and starts sucking.
I see stars. And I hear moaning, it’s us. We’re making those sexual noises together.
I have to inhale through my nose to catch a breath as he devours my mouth. Surreal and sexy as hell. Unsure if he’s kissing me or dominating me to assert his asshole status. But the punishing thrusts of his tongue have my legs weak.
No way could I have imagined a kiss from Finn being this good, even if I’ve thought of it more times than I can count.
And not a kiss that has blown the top of my skull off and plowed surprise through my entire psyche.
I lean heavily against the wall as his fingers dig into the small of my back to hold me in place. I widen my stance so he can fit his crotch to mine.
He’s as solid in his pants as I am.
There is something mind-blowing about a man I can hardly stand, clutching my neck, while his other hand sinks into the back of my hair as we engage in a frenzied world ending kiss.
I can’t stand him, right?
What am I doing?
I don’t stop.
I can’t stop kissing him.
What am I doing by rolling out the welcome mat for him to get into my mouth? He’s done nothing but bug me for months and here I am welcoming him home like he’s a damn soldier from war.
He’s taken over my central nervous system, controlling it with flicks of his wicked tongue. Hungry animal-like noises rubbing against my mouth.
He has me out of my mind for more of his taste and I push back into him to make him groan. I knew all along this asshole was lying.
Hiding who he is.
Hiding in plain sight is the best disguise of all. I see him though.
No wonder he hates me.
Even as he sucks my tongue until my eyes blur behind my eyelids, I know he still hates me.
Somehow it doesn’t even bother me.
Not right now.
It might later.
He tastes of cinnamon and Christmas.
And there is something shocking how thirsty I am for him to shove me around to do whatever the hell he wants.
Finn has made every school day into something unpleasant. He uses verbal put downs to make his dick inflate with superiority.
And I’m letting him crawl into my mouth.
Kissing me harder, deeper.
He’s as forceful in kissing as he is on the football field.
He’s hungry. That much I recognize.
By the time we separate, I’m wrecked for breath. Trying my damnedest to rub one out against the unforgiving denim of his jeans.
The moment logic returns to those cloudy eyes, I watch it happening as he shoves himself away. Scraping his fingers through his wild hair before dragging the back of his hand over his mouth, scrubbing me off him in case I’ve infected him with gay cooties.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters. His curse is a pain in my chest.
Regret looks back at me.
“That wasn’t…”
“Save it.” I say, sparing him the trouble of telling me it was a mistake.