Hood River Rat (Hood River Hoodlums #1) - K Webster Page 0,42

spooning and I’d be the big spoon?” Cal’s drunk ass breathes against my hair. “I know I’m taller, but you’ve always been the big spoon type. Wanna switch places?” He pinches my frozen nipple, making me growl in warning. “I’ll take that as a no, big boy.” The drunk fucker tries to bite my shoulder.

I manage to pull myself closer to Hollis. Our noses are cold as they touch, but I need to be able to feel his breath on me. To remind myself he didn’t drown. Everyone is loud around us—hell, even the two idiots in this little naked blanket fort—but it all kind of becomes muted as I focus on Hollis’s ragged breathing.

In and out.

In and out.

Alive.

So fucking alive.

Hollis

I blink awake when someone shakes me. Roan’s golden-brown eyes blaze with fire as he stares me down.

“Don’t go to sleep,” he orders, his words gravelly.

Funny how just a couple of days ago, I said the same thing to him. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but Cal and another guy are no longer in the bed with us. The cabin has been darkened and the fire from the fireplace glows brightly. People are hooting and laughing beyond the cabin doors. It’s then I realize I’m alone with Roan.

Naked.

Heat burns up my spine, warming my still chilled flesh. My lungs hurt from sucking in so much water and my extremities still tingle. As though in tune to my thoughts, Roan rubs his cold feet against mine.

“I can’t swim.” I don’t know why I need to say the words, but I do. “My, uh, my dad tried to teach me, but I always panicked. When I would panic, he’d get pissed off. I knew it would happen, so I started coming up with excuses not to go in the first place. I wasn’t a disappointment if I never gave him anything to be disappointed about.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, hating that I see my dad’s scowl as we stand in the middle of our pool. Him yelling at me to “fucking try.” Me trying and failing. The crying. The pain in my stomach, which is always worse when he’s angry.

“Fuck your dad.”

I’m jerked from the past and pop my eyes open. Roan’s stare heats me to my bones. His face is so close to mine. I like the way his body is touching mine. A truce. I’m tired of being at war.

“I thought I was going to die,” I croak, my body trembling.

Roan inches closer, his nose rubbing along my cheek as though he’s inhaling me. His lips are on my skin when he says, “But you didn’t. I saved you.”

Turning toward his hot mouth, I chase down what I desperately need. Him. My lips—cold and chapped—brush along his. He sucks in a breath as we pause. I want to kiss him, but something holds me back. I want him to want it too. His hand finds my bare hip and I’m ready for him to push me away.

He does.

He does.

He fucking does.

But he goes with me, pushing his naked thigh between mine as his tongue plunges into my mouth. We both groan, surprised at the kiss, but then we become ravenous. I’m weak and aching and dizzy. His kiss is invigorating, though.

Rough and gentle.

How?

Sweet and bitter.

Why?

His tongue slides against mine, waking my dick as though it’s stroking it instead. I moan into his mouth. This seems to set him off because he slides all the way on top of me. Our dicks are stone sandwiched between us. His mouth parts as a sexy growl tumbles out. He grinds his hips against mine, sending currents of pleasure exploding through me.

“Roan.” My breathy plea is heard because he kisses me harder. Needier. Frantic. He ruts against me, every bit as eager for this feeling as I am. My fingers find his damp, messy hair and I tug on the strands. He hisses, nipping my bottom lip.

“Fuck, Hollis. What the fuck?”

I want to kiss him everywhere.

Taste every inch.

Feel him inside me.

The thoughts stampeding through my mind are too quick and chaotic to sort out. It’s madness. Roan is a crazy addiction. I need this. I need him.

“Why do I want this?” he asks, pulling away slightly, his amber eyes flickering with confusion. “Why do I want you?”

“What is your type?”

“Not her.”

“Are you bi?”

“I’m nothing.”

“I want it too,” I tell him, shoving the memory of our previous conversation away. He’s not nothing. He’s so much more than nothing. A million times more