Page 88 of The Risk Taker
Our lips meet in a slow, soft kiss. It’s the softest fucking kiss of my life. And I’ve never felt anything better. It’s somehow so much better than the hard, desperate kisses we usually have. It’s not rushed or because we’re horny, but because I can’t sit here and look at him and not want to kiss him.
His hand finds my thigh, his fingers curling lightly against the fabric of my sweatpants, like he needs something to hold onto. I lift my hand, cupping his face, my fingers getting lost in his hair and kiss him once more, then again, before resting my forehead against his for a second.
He leans back, a little dazed, his mouth curved in a sleepy, kiss-drunk smile. His hair’s all messed up from my fingers and he looks so goddamn hot I have to look away just to stop myselffrom climbing into his lap and making out with him for the next five hours.
So I blink down at the box of pizza and grab another slice.
Nathan watches me take a bite and lifts his brow. “Really?”
“What?” I say around a mouthful.
He shakes his head, but I catch the smirk tugging at his lips.
I grin back and take another bite. “I’m still a growing boy, Hayes.”
He lets out a quiet laugh and leans back again.
We fall quiet for a while, watching the movie still playing in the background as he sketches another page.
When the credits start to roll, he asks if I want to stay, and I sayhell yes—because his presence is addictive as fuck. I want to be here even if we don’t say a word. Even if he’s just sketching, lost in his own world.
I steal a glance at him, completely zoned in, passion bleeding into every line he draws. I’ve seen him guarded. Angry. Horny. But this version of Nathan is the best yet.
Eventually, his eyes start to flutter heavier between strokes. The pencil goes slack in his grip before slipping from his hand and dropping onto the comforter with a soft thud.
I let out a quiet chuckle and reach over, pulling off the glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose before gently nudging his shoulder until he tips sideways onto the pillow. His sketchbook is half-sliding off his chest, so I ease it away, careful not to smudge the last panel as I close the book and set it on the nightstand.
I just sit there for a second, watching him. Watching the way his chest rises and falls. The way his mouth stays parted just slightly in sleep, his lashes fanned out against his cheekbones.
Kissing the guy I live with—who’s also my teammate—was dangerous as hell.
But this? These quiet moments and the soft fucking ache in my chest every time he looks at me like I’m not annoying the shit out of him? This might be the thing that kills me.
I should go. I should get up and crash in my own bed before someone notices I’m not in it.
But I don’t want to.
I reach over and brush my thumb across his cheek, smiling when he snores softly in response. Then I kill the lamp, slide down beside him, and let myself stay.
Just for tonight.
23
NATHAN
Iwake up to someone breathing in my ear.
I blink my eyes open slowly, feeling warmth surrounding me everywhere. Against my back. Along my neck. I glance down, see a hand curled low on my stomach, and realize I’m not alone.
Logan’s still here.
I blink down at his hand, warm and heavy against me. I’ve slept in the same hotel room as teammates a hundred times, but never like this. Never in the same bed. Never with someone’s arm draped over my waist and their breath brushing the back of my neck.
He must’ve fallen asleep after I did last night. I don’t remember when I closed my eyes, but I do remember how calm it felt.
His knee shifts slightly, and that’s when I feel his cock, hard against my ass, through the thin fabric of my pajama bottoms. His hand twitches slightly, his knuckles dragging against my skin, and a shiver crawls up my spine.
I glance over my shoulder. Logan’s still asleep, his curly blond hair a total mess, and his pretty mouth parted slightly as he breathes. There’s a crease along his cheekbone from where hemust’ve been smashed against the pillow earlier, and I can’t help but stare.
