Page 39 of Studs Up
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen. His body moved smoothly up and down the field, and every time he laid the ball off to get an advantage, my heart pounded an extra beat. I was surrounded by men, and none of them had my attention.
It didn’t matter that Holden had a dick. He could have five nipples and two tails, and I’d still be obsessed.
That was the way it had always been. From the very beginning, Holden had all of my attention.
The first thing I did when I got home was put on a replay and jerked off. Experiment concluded, and the results were in.
Getting to Chicago was tedious. We had to take a connecting flight to San Francisco, of all fucking places, and it put me in a mood. I was going in the wrong direction.
“You okay?” Marcel asked when we landed at O’here. I didn’t even possess the ability to articulate anything remotely polite. I grunted.
The ballroom of the hotel was full of players and staff getting checked in. I searched for him. It was easier to find Charlemagne. His tall, broad body cut a path through the group. Holden and Alex followed up behind.
When his eyes connected with mine, heat shot through my body. I had to turn away before my stare was noticed.
Xhavi Morales waved, and I wandered over to chat. No one was in a rush. Chatting and getting paired off into rooms. When it was Morales’s turn, I was left alone, and then Holden appeared.
“Hey,” he jerked his head to the hall. I followed curiously. Didn’t think he wanted to talk in public without yelling at each other.
“What?” I asked. Holden checked up and down the hall to make sure we were alone.
“Listen, we can’t room together,” he said. “What happened was…” he trailed off as his eyes unfocused for a split second. “Nice. But it can’t happen again.” He enjoyed it, and he had been thinking about it since the day it happened. I loved the way he looked as he remembered. How distracted he became and how his eyes glazed over.
“Who says it’s gonna happen again?” I crossed my arms, and there was a thrill watching his eyes blink at me offended by my audacity. He shook himself.
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just pretend that we’re all good now and Coach can room us with someone else.”
“No.”
“No?” He hissed. “What do you mean, no?”
I backed away from him.
“You’re a fucking asshole, Monroe,” I said much louder than was necessary. “If you ever try a cheap shot like that again, I’ll end you.” I stalked off, leaving him sputtering and confused.
I turned at the end of the hall in time to see Mirren saunter up behind him. Holden’s shoulders slumped.
“Mills is always going to be better than Lohan,” Coach said and walked away.
If anyone should be having second thoughts, it should be me. But hadn’t had a single one. Not a reservation or a question.
Pressing my body to his, feeling his fingers in my hair and his cock grinding against mine felt so fucking right. It was the piece I had been missing.
If he wanted to talk about not rooming together, then we’d talk in private.
“Okay, look,” he said when he walked in the door with his bag and his suitcase. “Can we just not do this? Pretend that never happened?”
He couldn’t meet my eyes, and I didn’t want to have this conversation if he couldn’t look at me.
“Holden.” With just his name, I ordered him to look at me. He obeyed with tremendous effort, turning his body slowly.
I walked up to him and stood inches away.
“No,” I said. “I will not pretend that didn’t happen. And I will not pretend I didn’t like it.” His eyes grew wide, and his mouth fell open. “I will also not pretend I don’t want it to happen again.”
I leaned in so close my nose nearly brushed his. There was a storm raging in his grey eyes. Choppy waves of uncertainty stared at me.
“I want your mouth on my cock again. I want to know what you feel like naked. And maybe, someday, what your ass feels like.”
