Page 22 of Built To Perform

“But, that said...”

“Hmm?” Nothing in his hum but pure and innocent curiosity.

“If, like, you had to... say, like, uh... choose.”

“Choose,” Jefferson repeated.

“Right,” I said, scratching my head and wishing I’d never started talking. Or half-wishing it, anyway; I knew myself well enough to know that the question - once lodged in my brain - would stick there until I had an answer for it. Even if it was an answer that disappointed, somehow. “I mean, not like I’m comparing myself to...”

“To a senior who has been dancing for ages, now,” Jefferson supplied.

I winced. “Right. Right.”

Silence, for a moment. Or, at least, the absence of words: the racket between my ears was comprehensive and fulsome in reminding me I was ridiculous.

“But you still want me to choose,” he continued.

“I...” I sighed. “It’s a silly thing to compare,” I said, finally.

“You know what really impressed me, lil bro? More than your dance moves, or how fucking hot it was to see you blow your load like that?” He shot me a look, like he needed to see my face when the real praise landed. “It’s how you stepped up for your teammate. Yeah, I know, we all do that in practice, and when we’re training, and we cheer each other on from the sidelines when we’re competing. But this isn’t just wrestling team stuff. It’s you, pushing yourself out of your comfort zone, because you know it’ll make a real fuckin’ difference to Brayden. That’s what I think was most kick-ass, Eoin.”

I looked out of the window, feeling my cheeks burn. “Anyone would’ve done it,” I protested.

Jefferson grunted. “Every day, I’m so damn glad we picked you as our freshman, lil bro. Every fucking day, y’hear me?”

I waved at him, like I could brush away the compliments that were making me feel so self-conscious.

“I hear you,” I murmured. More to stop him from talking than because of what had sunk in.

He grunted again, a noise that sounded like satisfaction.

“And, for what it’s worth, if that song had gone on 30 seconds longer I’d have been up on stage to bend you over that chair.”

I wasn’t sure if it was possible to pass out, solely because half the blood in your body had suddenly relocated to your dick, but my anatomy seemed intent on finding out.

“Dude!” I squeaked, fighting the urge to stroke myself there and then.

Chapter Nine

Jefferson kissed me, after he pulled the truck to a halt just down from my dorms. A fist bunched in my shirt, pulling the loose fabric taut. Dragging me to him, until I was clambering over the center console into his lap. The soft denim of his jeans against my bare legs, and his strong hands cradling my ass.

I was breathless, practically whining with need, when he pulled back.

“What time is your first class tomorrow?”

Frowning, it took long seconds for my brain to process the question. Longer still to summon the answer from the depths of my distracted brain.

“Uh... eight?”

He grunted, soft disapproval laced with amusement I knew he’d deny.

“Out so late, and on a school night.”

I reached down between the splay of my thighs across his, to grope at the swell in his jeans. Enjoying the way Jefferson’s fingers tightened on my cheeks, the way his nostrils flared as he stared at me.

“You should be in bed, lil bro.”

“Sure, if you join me.”