doing. I mean, we’re friends, and that’s what friends do. Right?”
“You’re right. That’s what friends do.”
He was so close I could reach out and touch him.
And I really wanted to touch him.
Hell, I wanted to kiss him, too.
Unsure what to say next, I walked to the pile of hockey sticks on the floor and gathered them up. Eli did the same.
“Where do these go?” I asked, my arms weighed down like my heart.
“In the storage room over there.” He nodded in the direction of a blue door on the wall opposite the gym entrance.
While Eli grabbed the bag with the balls in it, I walked to the storage door and opened it. But the movement was awkward at best, and the hockey sticks shifted in my arms, to end up poking out in all directions.
With a move worthy of a commiserative applause, I saved them, only just, from tumbling to the floor.
A large gray bin with numerous other red and blue hockey sticks was parked in the corner of the storage room.
I dumped the ones in my arms into it. Eli did the same with his hockey sticks and placed the bag with the plastic balls on a shelf.
“Thank you,” he said, looking no less uncomfortable than before.
Unsure what else to do, I let my gaze drop to his lips.
If someone were to ask me tomorrow, next week, next year, who was responsible for what happened after that, I’d swear I had no idea.
All I knew was that one moment I was looking at his mouth, and the next I was kissing him.
My arms slipped around his neck, and I reached up on my tippy toes. He deepened the kiss, and all I wanted was to feel his body against mine.
All I wanted was him inside me.
It had been so long.
As if sensing that, he crouched slightly, hooked his hands behind my thighs, and lifted me.
My legs went instantly around his hips, and I moaned softly into his mouth.
He turned on the spot with me still wrapped around him and walked the short distance to the door. He shut it and pressed my back against it. I heard the click of the lock but couldn’t be sure. My lips and everything else about me were currently preoccupied.
“God, I want you inside me so badly, Eli,” I heard myself say, not really considering the consequences.
“I want the same,” he muttered, the sensation of his words on my skin sending a tremor through my body. “But I don’t have condoms with me.”
“That’s okay. I’m on the pill, and I haven’t been with anyone since the last time we had sex. And before that, I was clean. I mean I’m still clean. Are you?”
We’d already had this conversation, but I had no idea if he’d been with other women after I foolishly told him I loved him.
“I’m clean, too. I haven’t been with anyone since you either.”
A huge part of me was thrilled to hear him say that—for so many reasons.
His calloused fingers moved along the inside of my thigh, igniting a new round of tremors. They brushed my clit, hidden behind the cotton of my panties. I swallowed my moan.
He increased the pressure on my clit, and his fingertips circled the sensitive mound. I wanted to strip him down so I could see him and all his glorious nakedness, but we were already taking a huge risk having sex in the storage room.
I reached for the drawstring on his athletic pants and pulled on it, loosening the bow. My hands then trailed along the thick bulge hidden under the fabric.
This time it was Eli who moaned. I greedily swallowed the sound.
We became a struggle of fumbling hands and desperate kisses, of exploring lips and needy groans.
He shoved the cotton of my panties aside, exposing my seam. “God, you’re so fucking ready for me.” The low rumble of his voice came out as a heated growl.
I whimpered at the sound of it and at the feel of his fingers spreading the wetness around my sex. Never mind wanting him inside me, I was going to erupt into an explosion of hot lava if he kept that up.
This was further confirmed when he pushed his fingers inside my soft heat. My body jerked up, attempting to climb him like a palm tree.
“Inside me. Now,” I gasped.
He yanked his pants and boxer briefs down, positioned the tip of his cock against my opening, and slowly thrust his length inside me.
How I kept from crying out