Page 54 of About to Fall

He was not careful. He was not polite. He was not bending to my will.

He was being Nicky. A real person with wants and needs and desires. The one I’d been chasing since the first day I walked into that rink.

I pulled back just enough to breathe. Looked down at him—flushed, dishevelled, breathing hard, lips swollen, hair a disaster, eyes daring me to say something.

“There he is,” I said softly.

“I told you to shut up.”

“I like feisty Nicky—”

He flipped me onto my back.

I didn’t see it coming—embarrassing, given I should have remembered he was an elite athlete with enough lower body power that he could rotate four times in the air. One moment I was above him and the next my back hit the mattress and Nicky was straddling me, open shirt falling off one shoulder, hands flat on my chest, a look on his face I was going to be thinking about for the rest of my life.

“Shut,” he said and kissed me.

“Up,” he said and kissed me again.

“And fuck me already,” he finished, biting my lower lip hard enough to sting.

His hips pressed down against mine and I lost the ability to form words—which had never happened to me before. It was the single most impressive thing Nicky had ever done. And this was a man with a national title.

He slid down my body and unbuckled my belt, tugged open my jeans, shoved them and my boxer briefs down to my thighs with an eagerness that suggested he'd been thinking about this for a while. Then he stopped, bit down on his own lip. A small giggle escaped—and then like he couldn’t contain it, he started shaking with laughter, his forehead pressed against my hip, his whole body trembling with it.

“What the fuck, Nicky?” I struggled to pull my underwear back over my very exposed, very hard situation.

“I'm sorry—I just wasn't expecting—”

“Is this some kind of joke to you? You think you can—”

“Your pubes are pink.” He tilted his head, eyes bright with tears of laughter. “And heart shaped?”

I looked down. Oh. I had forgotten I'd done that. “Yeah, I was bored and I haven't found a waxer in Toronto yet.”

“Well, it caught me by surprise.”

He was still laughing—that open, unguarded sound that made it impossible not to smile back. Music I could listen to over and over again. Even with my dick out and my dignity in tatters, hearing Nicky laugh like that—free and surprised and genuine—was worth every second of humiliation.

Then he wrapped those perfect pink lips around my cock and sucked like he had a point to make.

My brain liquefied.

The wet heat of his mouth, the pressure, his hand working in time with the bob of his head—I was embarrassingly close to losing it within minutes. Because Nicky wasn't just good at this. He was devastating. Golden hair falling across his forehead, blue eyes glancing up at me through his lashes, those lips I'd been obsessing over stretched around me.

I'd spent weeks telling myself the attraction was just physical. Just my dick reacting to a pretty face attached to an infuriatingly perfect body.

Looking down at him now, I knew that was bullshit. Had probably always been bullshit.

I grabbed a fistful of beautiful golden hair and pulled him off my aching length before I could embarrass myself completely. “Uh uh. Hate fuck, not hate blowjob.”

He sat back on his haunches, looking at me expectantly. That haughty little tilt to his chin—even now. Even with swollen lips and wrecked hair and the taste of me still in his mouth. Prince Nicky, even on his knees.

I launched off the bed, kicked off my jeans and underwear—heart pubes and all, fuck it—tossed my shirt somewhere behind me. Rummaged through my suitcase until I found the condoms and lube I'd stashed in the inner pocket. Not that I'd been planning on hooking up with anybody but I was always prepared. And thank fuck for horny and prepared Adrian.

When I turned back, Nicky was still grinning. Lounging against the pillows, naked now, that amused little smile playing on his lips.

I crawled over him, pinned his wrists above his head with one hand, and watched the grin falter.