Fat chance of that happening, but I smirk anyway. “Then I guess you need to be quiet, baby.”
He lets out a half-strangled groan, but it turns into something closer to a whine when I drag my thumb over both our tips, slippery and slow.
He can lie and tell me he hates being called baby all he wants, but the way he melts into me when I do tells me otherwise.
He leans into me more, our chests plastered together and his forehead pressing lightly against mine. I swear I can feel every exhale vibrate through him.
The angle’s tight but so good, my hand moving in smooth, steady strokes between us and his hips stutter forward on instinct, desperate for more.
Every slide of my palm drags a soft, broken noise from him. He tries to muffle it, but I feel it vibrate through his throat.
So fucking hot.
I roll my hips forward, my cock pressing against his with every stroke. He groans, low and desperate, and I tighten my fist slightly.
“Fuck, Logan—” he breathes, and God, the way my name sounds in his voice. I can feel his breath against my mouth, can taste the steam on it.
I want to say something cocky, something to make him roll his eyes, but all that comes out is a low groan, the kind that’s scraped raw from somewhere deep. My forehead rests against his, our noses almost touching, water running down between us.
I bite my lip, stroking faster, grinding harder into him. I want to kiss him so bad. So fucking bad. I pull back slightly and glance down at his pink lips, slightly parted and he does the same, his eyes flicking down to my lips.
I last two seconds before I dive in, grab the back of his head, and press my lips to his. He groans into my mouth which makes my cock leak with precum as I swallow his moans.
My hand keeps moving, jacking both of us as our bodies rock together. The heat is stupid. Dizzying. I can feel every twitch, every sound he makes, how he gasps into me like he can’t breathe unless we’re touching.
Fuck, he tastes so good. Feels so good.
“Fuck, I can feel how bad you want it,” I groan against his lips, slowing my pace. “You gonna come all over me, baby?”
He whines, grinding harder into my hand. “God, you’re such a fucking tease. I swear to God, Logan, if you stop now?—”
His words get cut off when something hits the ground.
My entire body goes still.
Nathan freezes too, but it’s me who pulls away first. I slap my hand over his mouth without thinking, my heart launching into my throat. My cock’s still hard. My hand’s still wrapped around both of us. We are so goddamn naked.
His eyes are wide, chest heaving, lips parted under my palm.
Every second we wait feels like a goddamn century. The water crashes down around us while I strain to hear anything—footsteps, voices, a door.
“Anyone there?” I ask.
Nothing.
My shoulders drop and I breathe out, trying to slow my pulse. It must have been a shampoo bottle or something.
I slowly peel my hand off his mouth. His lips are pink and kiss-swollen and he looks like he’s about to die.
I brush my thumb along his jaw, smirking a little despite the adrenaline. “We’re fine.”
His shoulders drop in relief and I lean in to press my lips to his once again.
“Turn around,” I say, giving his ass a squeeze, because, well, how could I not?
Nathan stiffens. His eyes go wide and he looks at me like I just told him I was about to propose.
My lips twitch. “Relax, goalie. I’m not gonna fuck you.” I pause. “Yet.”