Page 125 of The Incredible Ordinary

Later, when Rory has once again settled on the mattress in Theo’s room and everybody else has gone to bed, he trails me up the stairs.

He raises a brow at me. “Guest room?”

I take his hand and pull him into my room. “Don’t be an idiot.”

It’s the second time I’ll get to share a bed with him.

I’m already in bed when he comes back from the bathroom. He yawns and scratches his chest absently as he drops his clothes on top of his overnight bag. His gaze lands on me and he watches me, the same softness in his eyes as earlier. It felt mysterious downstairs with all the people around. Now it’s just intimate.

His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows.

He starts to say something, but then he just shakes his head and smiles. He climbs onto the bed, knee-walks toward me, and straddles me.

I watch him with wide eyes and a loud heartbeat, my throat dry. He leans down and kisses me.

For a long time that’s all we do.

We kiss and get impossibly hard. Hard enough that the slightest pressure against my cock makes me whimper. His hand grips the hair in the back of my head and mine roam over his back, pulling him closer, pressing against him.

He deepens the kiss as he scoots closer and ends up pressing his hard length against my equally hard cock. His back arches, and he lets out a rush of breath.

I want to touch him everywhere I can, hungry for his skin on mine.

His lips track their way from my mouth to my collarbone. He kisses my throat, sucking the skin between his lips.

One of his hands slides down my chest and brushes the waistband of my boxer briefs, and we both suck in a breath.

His fingers slid under the waistband, the barest of inch before he goes very still, not even moving a muscle. He closes his eyes for a moment before he meets my gaze.

“I got carried away,” he pants and starts to pull back.

I have his wrist in a death grip, keeping his hand in place.

Nerves battle with desire.

I want this, but fuck, that’s another man’s cock against mine, and I’m definitely into that… but does that mean I’ll know what to do with it? How to make it good for him?

I lick my lips.

“Don’t stop,” I say hoarsely.

He studies me for a few seconds, gaze impossibly intent.

He leans forward again abruptly, mouth coming down hard on mine. His hands slide up my chest and curve around my shoulders before starting their trek lower again. His palm grazes my nipple, and I bite back a moan.

His fingers find my waistband again, and this time he doesn’t stop. He tugs my underwear lower. Yanks them so the waistband ends up somewhere below my ass, the elastic just below the head of my cock, keeping it trapped against my abdomen.

I stop breathing for a moment while he sits back on his haunches, straddling me, and lets his eyes wander up and down my body. Nobody has ever looked at me like Milán does. Hungrily. This one look makes me forget everything until I’m in a trancelike state, willing to go along with anything he wants to do to me.

He raises his hand to his mouth and licks the pad of his thumb before he brings it down to the tip of my cock and rubs it over the head.

My cock gives a violent jerk, and my lips part on a shaky exhale.

He lowers his head and licks my nipple, keeping his thumb pressed against the slit of my dick. Desperate for something to hold on to, I sink my fingers into his hair. He swirls his tongue around my nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, tongue laving over it in quick swipes.

“Slow,” he says in a strained voice, like he’s reminding himself.

I want to argue.