Mitch licks his lips nervously and lets go of my hands. He pushes back to stand, so I prop myself up on my elbows to watch, unsure of what he’s thinking. My jaw just about hits the floor when Mitch reaches a hand behind his back, those large biceps flexing, and yanks the black shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor.
When Mitch toes off his boots and strips off his socks, I realize that this is actually going to happen. My eyes are riveted to the skin he exposed. It’s not the first time I’ve seen Mitch without a shirt, but last time it was dark and I was freaking out because someone was at the door. This time? I’m able to enjoy the view.
His chest is perfection, just like I knew it would be. Broad and thick, with defined pecs and big shoulders. There’s a small sprinkling of dark hair in the center that thins out before turning into the happiest happy trail I’ve ever laid eyes on.
If I thought his chest was impressive then Mitch’s abs are a work of art that gay men dream of. The skin is flat and tight, each ridge defined, flexing gloriously as he moves. They taper on either side of his torso, ending with sharp obliques that disappear down into his waistband. I want to taste that ‘v’. To drag my tongue down that trail to the prize that waits at the bottom.
“Gavin.” Mitch’s husky voice is tinged with both nervous and carnal undertones.
My gaze snaps back up. Determination, lust, and yes, fear, are all present in those expressive eyes of his.
I understand what he’s saying without hearing the words. Mitch needs me to lead. He’s out of his comfort zone and needs to know that what he’s feeling is okay. I sit up and pull my own shirt over my head. Mitch’s pupils grow larger and one hand rubs across the front of his jeans, his eyes riveted to the small hoops threaded through my nipples. I’d bet everything I own that he doesn’t even know he’s stroking himself.
Fuuuuck.
“Come here.” Shit, my own voice is gone, replaced by a lust-fueled rasp.
Mitch complies, his gaze drifting over my body, from my eyes, to my mouth, to my naked chest and back up. That damn hand of his never stops moving. It keeps fondling and squeezing what appears to be a sizeable erection.
Lucky me.
He stops when his knees hit the mattress. With my legs straddling his, I sit up and come face-to-face with that flawless set of abs. Putting my hands on his hips, I lean in and inhale.
God he smells so good.
My already hard cock turns to granite. Slowly, pressing my finge
rs into his sides, I open my mouth and let my tongue drag over those hard ridges, tasting and exploring every inch.
When Mitch tentatively rests his hands on my shoulders, the contact sends a shiver down my spine. I sit up straighter and lick a path up to one of his flat, dark nipples. As it hardens under my mouth, Mitch lets out a gasp. Without stopping, I glance up to find Mitch staring at me, his expression so carnal my dick throbs, begging for release.
A muscle in Mitch’s jaw jumps. He’s having just as much trouble holding back as I am. Suddenly, his hands are in my hair and he yanks my head back. When his mouth comes down on mine, I groan loud and embarrassingly long. Mitch’s knee comes up on the bed between my legs as he lowers me down.
I tear away, panting. “Fuck, Mitch. Wait.”
“No,” he growls, attacking my neck with his teeth and tongue. He finds a sensitive spot near my collarbone and sucks, hard.
“Jesus. Shit, shit, shit, stop!” I shove my hands between us and once again have to squeeze my cock to keep from coming as he marks me.
Mitch lifts his head and looks down between our bodies. His gaze comes back to mine. His expression is wild, uncontrolled, and the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Take off your pants,” I demand.
You better be ready, not-so-straight FBI man. I’m about to blow your fucking mind.
68
Mitch
“Take off your pants.”
Oh god. My legs go weak at Gavin’s command.
There’s no going back. I don’t want to go back. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want this.
I stand at the side of the bed, my hands frozen on the button fly of my jeans. My senses are so overloaded I can’t move. My eyes are busy feasting on Gavin, specifically, the erection tenting his loose sweats and those sexy piercings of his.
My nostrils are filled with the scent of sex and sweat and Gavin, plus that damn coconut shampoo he uses. I lick my lips and can still taste him lingering there, potent and intoxicating. It all feels so strange yet so right.