Page 46 of Fall for Him

“You said Olive was right about my eyes…”

“Oh…” The room surged ten degrees warmer that it had been. “That you have really blue eyes.”

The swath of freckles across his cheeks seemed darker. “Oh…”

Derek grasped the bottom of Dylan’s T-shirt, his fingertips grazing the skin beneath. “If I do something stupid, can I blame the fact that I might have a concussion?”

Dylan ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, head bowing as if hit with a sudden shyness.

Derek touched Dylan’s chin, tilting his face toward him. “Tell me to stop, Dylan.”

“No.” Dylan’s mouth crushed over his. His soft, ready lips moved in a perfect rhythm against Derek’s. Derek’s hand combed through Dylan’s hair as he matched him kiss for kiss. It was like they were competing for who could get more, sharing panted breaths whenever they parted.

And Derek wanted more, more, more.

Dylan kissed along his jawline and down his neck. His hands explored the muscles of Derek’s arms and chest and then settled on the knotted drawstring of his scrub pants.

Derek twisted his fingertips through the tangles of Dylan’s hair.

“I really need a haircut.” Dylan’s wry eyes flicked up to Derek’s hand before he restarted nipping down Derek’s neck.

“I like your—” His sentence was lost to an irrepressible moan as Dylan’s tongue flicked over his collarbone with a teasing graze of teeth behind it. “Shit, Dylan. Shit.”

What exactly could that mouth do on other parts of Derek’s body?

They crashed together once more. A thrill went through Derek as Dylan’s own arousal pushed and pulsed against Derek’s. Dylan was wearing tantalizingly thin gray sweatpants.

He needed those goddamn pants off.

Derek craned his neck to find Dylan’s mouth once more. His hands slid under Dylan’s shirt to explore his surprisingly muscled back before sliding down Dylan’s spine. “If you want to stop, say the word.”

Dylan pressed himself into Derek. The pressure was almost painful against Derek’s cock. “I’ll tell you to stop if I want you to.” The sharp heat of Dylan’s tone sliced through Derek. It almost sounded like… dominance.

Dylan paused as if the tone had surprised him too.

But after reading what could only be desperation on Derek’s face, Dylan pressed his lips against Derek’s again. His tongue pushed into his mouth, sweeping against Derek’s, eliciting more fevered noises.

Derek cupped Dylan’s ass forcefully, spreading and lifting him slightly.

“More.” Every throaty, guttural response out of Dylan felt like a trophy.

How much more? Derek wanted more of everything. More tongue. More skin. More teeth. Derek dropped to his knees. He wanted to know what other sounds he could coax from the man in his arms.

A clicking sound from the front door broke them apart. A key turned in the lock.

Derek fled to the shadowy space just inside the bedroom doorway. The bounce and squeak of old springs from the living room meant Dylan must have hopped onto the couch.

The door swung open.

An unfamiliar female voice broke the silence. “Dylan Gallagher, I’m going to kill you.”

Chapter 17

Dylan’s dick was very, very angry about being hidden under a laptop.

His sister Felicity, thankfully, appeared entirely oblivious to Dylan’s predicament since she was juggling a boxed air mattress and a sleeping bag along with her backpack. She answered the question he hadn’t had a chance to ask. “Mom and I had a thing, so I needed to come here to stay for a few days. Sorry it’s so late.”

“How does that relate to wanting to kill me?”

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