I closed the door behind us.
Kellan made his way across the room, looking around as if he hadn’t seen it in a long time. He gestured to a nearby rack of plastic gold awards and said, “So, these are my track trophies. And there’s my first Spider-Man poster. Thrilling.”
I flipped the lock. He grinned.
I was on him in a heartbeat, pinning him against the wall next to his high school memorabilia, my hands in his hair and my mouth opening under his. The usual wet thrill raced down my spine, waking up the electricity in me, but it was more this time. I slipped one of my thighs between his, pressed him tight against the wall, and wanted—
Actually, I didn’t know what I wanted. Maybe just to melt into him once and for all.
He pressed his hips into me, hummed happily as we closed it off, and lodged two fingers of each hand into the waist of my jeans on either side, warm against my skin. When I touched his face, it crackled.
He started. “Jesus, you’re all staticky. You dragging your feet or something?”
I gritted my teeth and got myself under control. This new development where I forgot myself around him was a pain in the ass. I would’ve been more worried, but thank God, a little static shock was a mundane enough occurrence that it wouldn’t raise eyebrows. I wrapped one arm around his neck, smoothing down a few stray hairs that were standing on end from the charge. Goddamn, that was adorkable. “Dunno. Should I make a pun about you and me and electricity, or is that too much?”
He smiled, dimple and all, and I got that feeling again, like he’d punched me in the solar plexus.
It was the music, probably. The effects of that sad, romantic song Tara had finished with.Fucking Irish and their depressing stories. But I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, couldn’t keep my hands off him, and maybe I never had been able to, but this was different. It was like all his pugnacious instincts and that hard outer shell and the surprising sensitivities and glaring soft spots all made sense, of a sudden, and it was even better than I’d expected, and I was amazed and stunned and madly in love with him.
I shut my eyes tight and kissed him again, as much to keep me from speaking as because I needed the kiss. He turned his face and went with it, slipping one hand into my back pocket. When that kiss finished, he said, “You’re sure this isn’t too—”
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” I kissed him again, hard, demanding, more than a little desperate. He put his other arm around me, holding me tight, and gave it right back. Like he understood, knew exactly what I needed. His long, hard body shifted between me and the wall, and the whole room seemed to grow hotter around us.
If I didn’t stop soon, it was going to get painful, but I couldn’t. I started to tell myself maybe there was time for a little something, just to hold us over until we got home. I slipped my hand between our hips and found his semihard cock, rubbed it through his jeans, and hummed into his ear.
He gasped. “Holy fuck. Is there anywhere you won’t do it?”
“Nope.” I squeezed gently, felt up over his dickhead, then back down again. “You?”
“Apparently not.” His hand slipped into the back of my pants, beneath my underwear, fingers digging hard into my ass.
I disentangled my arm from around his neck and went for his zipper. “It’s okay—I locked the door. Think you can be quick?”
“I think I’m about to need new underwear. That quick enough?”