Page 34 of Crease Collision

“That is currently under review.”

I peer into the refrigerator beside him. “What is for dinner?”

“I’m looking for water. We ate half of Manhattan a few hours ago.”

“Since I am young, I recover quickly.”

He snorts. “You’re twenty-two, not a teenager.”

“In Sweden, twenty-two is prime snacking age.”

“That sounds made up.”

“It is.” I smirk at him. “But I said it with confidence.”

He braces a hand on the counter and cackles. Laughing with Kai in his kitchen seems more intimate than kissing him in the pool.

He points a finger at me. “Go get out of those wet trunks while I heat the leftovers.”

“Yes, older man.”

He stares, and I widen my smile.

“Keep pushing,” he says.

“I plan to. Until you whine underneath me and beg me to fuck you even harder. Until you are out of your mind screaming with pleasure.”

Before he can reply, I turn and head for the bedroom. That should hold him until I return.

We eat on the balcony off his living room. It is covered, and a large ceiling fan keeps us comfortable. Although the city view is spectacular on its own, Kai makes it a hundred times better.

I swallow the last of a sandwich. “I like this. Spending a lazy day together, eating delicious food while I enjoy your company.”

“It’s amazing.” He glances toward the skyline. “I could see myself—” He wrinkles his brow. “You’re very good company.”

The words seem to cost him more than they should, so I try to lighten things up. “Making out in the pool was pretty good too.”

He nods. “It was amazing. Making out with you…” His voice trails off, and he clears his throat. “It was the nicest swim I remember.”

His words are warm, but his eyes are a little glassy. What has made him so afraid to admit even that much?

After dinner, we shower separately. While I stand under the steamy water, I face the truth: somewhere between the pool and the end of dinner, Kai became more than a spot of fun. Hopefully, the dating I’ve wished for will become reality.

We end up on the sofa with him leaning against me and one of my arms around his shoulders. As the sun goes down, I admire how different the skyline looks.

“New York is so beautiful at night,” I tell him. “Very different from the daytime. I am not sure I will ever get tired of it.”

He pushes up enough to kiss my cheek. “It’s fantastic, but not nearly as good-looking as you.”

I turn my head and kiss him. We have kissed many times today, and still the world shrinks until there is only us. His mouth is soft at first, but as I deepen the kiss, he responds. My fingers tangle in his soft hair, and his hands find my chest, palms pressing flat against me as he shifts to straddle my lap. His weight feels so good I groan into his mouth. Our kisses grow hungrier, more urgent. I nip at his lower lip, and he responds by grinding his cock against mine. The thin material of our shorts does nothing to disguise our excitement.

“Oskar,” he breathes against my mouth, and the demanding way he says my name makes my blood run hot. His fingers slide over my chest, tracing the lines of my muscles before slipping beneath my shirt. His touch sends shivers through me despite the warmth of our bodies pressing together.

“Lean back a little,” I say, and then pull his shirt over his head. His skin is smooth and speckled with short hairs; the lean muscle quivers under my touch, and I suck one of his nipples while he whines with pleasure.

I go back to his mouth, needing to taste him again, before trailing kisses down his neck and across his collarbone. He arches against me when I linger over the rapid pulse at the base of his throat, and his soft moan makes my dick start throbbing.

“Can’t resist you,” I say against his skin.