Page 139 of Last First Kiss

“I told you,” Jamie gasps. “We both have control this way.”

Jordan grins. He goes a little harder, faster. He listens as Jamiekeens. Takes his cues from the way Jamie’s fingers dig into his shoulders.

They crash into another kiss. Jamie smells sweet from his shampoo and salty from the sweat. Unforgettable. Like amber and oak. Like memories, old and new.

Belatedly, Jordan realizes he does too. Jamie’s scent is all over him. He can’t imagine ever wanting to smell like anything else.

“Fuck,” Jamie grunts into his ear.

Jordan sucks a kiss to his neck. Gently bites until he finds Jamie’s most sensitive spots. Turns out, that’s everywhere.

“You learn quickly,” Jamie says. “Already a pro.”

Jordan cranes his head back, panting.

“Incredible, Jordan,” Jamie whispers, right against his ear. “You’re so fuckingincredible.”

Jordan exhales a husky, elated breath.

“So good to me, Jordan.”

There it is again. That electric zip. Jordan’s entire body vibrates with the praise.

It’s a moment he’s unprepared for—wanting this. Needing to hear praise from Jamie. To see him this way: enthusiastic and eager and breathless. All for Jordan.

Because of Jordan.

He threads his fingers into Jamie’s hair. Tugs tenderly.

“Ah, yes,” Jamie moans.

He does it again.Pulls.

Jamie whimpers. “Jesus, Jordan.”

Jordan blinks up at him. A rush crashes down on him in a wave. He’s heard a million stories about sex from his teammates. Seen it in movies and on TV, read it in books. It’s not an experience he’s craved before.

But this—the closeness between them. Softness in Jamie’s eyes. His hand on Jordan’s cheek with his body embracing Jordan’s cock…

Jordan wants more ofthis.

He knows, deep in his marrow, no one else could’ve drawn up this feeling inside him. Only Jamie.

AlwaysJamie.

It’s over before Jordan can unravel what that means. To be fair, he’s not sure how he lasted this long. How he survives watching Jamie sit upright. Circle his fingers around his own dick. Show Jordan exactly how he likes to be stroked.

The way certain movements make him whine and others unearth trembles in his thighs.

Sweat pools beneath Jamie’s throat. Jordan wants to lick it off. He doesn’t. Instead, he manages to keep his pace, watching, riveted, as Jamie comes, crying out.

Then, he’s gone too.

Spine arched. Fingers numb from gripping Jamie’s hips. Throat dry and raw from gasping.

Breathlessly, Jordan says, “That was…”

“Mm-hmm.”