After the Kiss
The next morning light sliced through the blinds like it had a personal grudge. My head felt like a construction zone and my mouth tasted like old regret. I stayed flat on my back for a second, staring at a crack in the ceiling, willing the memory of last night to fuck off. The kiss hadn’t happened. Jessy hadn’t yanked me down and kissed me like he was trying to win an argument with his tongue. I definitely hadn’t kissed him back for half a heartbeat before shoving him away. Nope. Beer blackout. End of story.
I sat up, rubbing my face. Jessy was already awake, propped against his headboard in nothing but black boxer briefs that looked painted on. The waistband sat dangerously low, cutting across that sharp V of his hips, and the thin fabric did zero to hide the thick outline of him resting heavy against his thigh. He had one arm tucked behind his head, bicep flexed like he knew exactly what he was doing. Phone in his other hand, scrolling like he owned the planet.
“Morning, princess,” he said without looking up. His voice was still sleep-rough and way too smug. “You snore like a chainsaw after you drink. Cute.”
I swung my legs off the bed and stood, my own gray boxers riding low on my hips. “Didn’t ask for the review, Delgado.”
He finally glanced over. That slow grin spread across his face, the one that always made me want to punch something. Or maybe kiss it. I hated both options.
“Rough night?” he asked, tilting his head. “You look like you’re trying real hard not to remember something.”
I grabbed a T-shirt off the dresser and yanked it on, keeping my back to him. “I remember plenty. I drank too much. We wrestled on the floor. Classic you being a dick. Nothing new.”
Jessy chuckled, low and warm. “Wrestled. That what we’re calling it now?”
“Yeah. That’s what we’re calling it.” I turned around, arms crossed. My boxers felt too tight all of a sudden, especially with the way his eyes dragged down my body like he was cataloging every inch.
He set his phone aside and stretched, abs tightening in a way that was completely unnecessary. “Funny. I remember your hand on my neck, pulling me in. Then your tongue in my mouth. Then you making this little sound—like you’d been dying for it. Then you freaked out and shoved me. Real wrestling move, that last part.”
Heat shot straight to my face. I could still feel the press of his lips, firm and sure, the scrape of his stubble. My cock twitched traitorously against the cotton. “You’re delusional. I was drunk. I don’t remember any of that.”
“Bullshit.” Jessy swung his legs off the bed and stood, closing half the distance between us. The front of his boxers stretched tighter now, the head of his dick pressing against the fabric like it was saying hello. “You remember. I can see it in your eyes. You’re doing that thing where you get all flushed and pretend you’re pissed instead of turned on.”
“I’m not turned on,” I snapped. “I’m annoyed. There’s a difference.”
He stepped closer, close enough that I caught the warm, sleepy scent of his skin. “Annoyed people don’t get hard when someone mentions kissing them. Yet here you are, tenting those sad little boxers like you’re auditioning for a porno.”
I glanced down before I could stop myself. Fuck. He was right. I was half-hard already, the outline obvious. My face burned hotter. “Fuck off, Jessy. It’s morning wood. Happens to everyone. Doesn’t mean shit.”
“Morning wood doesn’t usually happen because someone’s thinking about my tongue down their throat.” He grinned wider, eyes sparkling with pure evil delight. “Admit it. You liked it. You liked how I took control. You liked feeling me hard against you right before you chickened out.”
I shoved him in the chest, hard. My palms met warm, solid muscle. He rocked back a step but caught my wrist, yanking me forward. We crashed together, chests bumping, and then we were on the floor in a tangle of bare legs and boxers. I landed on top first, knees bracketing his hips, but he rolled us fast, pinning me under him with his full weight.
“Get the fuck off me,” I growled, bucking up. The move only ground us together harder. His cock—thick and hot—slid against my thigh through the thin fabric. Mine pressed back, trapped between our stomachs, leaking a wet spot into my boxers already.
Jessy laughed, breathless but still smug as hell. He caught both my wrists and slammed them to the floor above my head, stretching me out nice and helpless. His face hovered inches from mine, breath warm against my lips. “Nah. I’m good right here.”
I twisted under him, but his thighs clamped tighter around my hips, locking me down. Every inch of him was pressed against every inch of me—sweat-slick skin, hard muscle, the heavy weight of his dick throbbing against mine. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Yeah?” He lowered himself a fraction more, forehead almost brushing mine. His voice dropped, rough and sexy and way too close. “Tell me you don’t remember the kiss now. Look me in the eyes and say it.”
I glared up at him, chest heaving. “Fine. I remember. Happy? I remember your stupid mouth on mine and I remember hating every second of it.”
“Liar.” He rocked his hips once, slow and deliberate, dragging his cock along the length of mine through our boxers. The friction made my breath catch. “You didn’t hate it. You froze for a second like your brain short-circuited, then you kissed me back. I felt your tongue. I felt you get hard against my leg. Don’t rewrite history just ’cause it scares you.”
“Scared?” I laughed, but it came out shaky. “Of you? Please. You’re just a walking ego with a dick.”
Jessy’s grin turned wicked. He leaned in until his lips brushed my ear, voice low and filthy. “A walking ego whose dick you can’t stop staring at. Whose mouth you couldn’t get enough of last night. Whose body you’re grinding against right now like a desperate little slut even while you’re calling me names.”
I bucked harder, trying to throw him off, but it only made us slide together again, cocks rubbing hot and heavy. Pre-cum soaked through both our boxers now, making everything slick. “I hate you. I hate you so fucking much.”
“Good.” He pinned me harder, mouth hovering right over mine, eyes dark and locked on me. “Hate me all you want. It doesn’t change shit. I’m gonna break you, Brady. I know you can’t resist this. Every time I get close, you leak like you’re already mine. Every time I push, you pretend you don’t want it but your body’s begging. And I’m gonna keep going until you stop lying and just accept it. Accept that you want me to pin you down. Accept that you want me to make you mine.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. I could feel every inch of him—hot, hard, relentless. My own cock throbbed painfully between us, traitorously eager. “You don’t know shit about what I want.”
“I know enough.” He rocked again, slower this time, teasing. “I know you’re rock hard right now. I know your nipples are tight. I know if I reached down and wrapped my hand around you, you’d moan my name before you could stop yourself.”
I swallowed hard, throat dry. “I know your game now, Jessy. All the stripping, all the crowding me, all the little touches and teases. I see it. And it won’t work anymore. You can do your worst. I won’t let it affect me. I won’t.”
Jessy’s eyes lit up like I’d just handed him a challenge he’d been waiting for. He lowered his forehead until it rested against mine, breath mingling, mouth so close I could almost taste him again.
“Dare me then,” he murmured, voice dark and dripping with promise. “Go ahead. Tell me to do my worst. We both know how this ends.”
I shoved Jessy hard in the chest, palms flat against that stupid wall of muscle. “Get the fuck off me, you cocky prick.”
He rolled with it like he’d been expecting exactly that, but before I could scramble up he caught me around the waist from behind. His arm locked low across my stomach, yanking me back against his chest. We were both still on our knees on the floor, boxers the only thing between us, and I felt every inch of him pressed up tight—hot skin, hard abs, and that thick dick of his already half-hard and nudging right against my ass.
“Nice try,” he murmured right next to my ear, voice low and amused. “But you dared me, remember? Can’t back out now just ’cause your dick’s getting ideas.”
I twisted, trying to elbow him. “I didn’t dare you, asshole. I said do your worst. Big difference.”
His laugh vibrated against my back. “Same thing in my book.” One of his hands stayed anchored at my hip, fingers splayed wide like he owned the spot. The other slid slow and deliberate down my front, palm dragging over my stomach, dipping under the waistband of my boxers. My breath caught. I hated how good it felt—his hand warm, calloused from all those gym sessions, sliding right where I was already stupidly sensitive.
“Jessy—” I started, voice cracking between pissed and something way worse.
“Shh,” he said, like he was calming a spooked horse. “Just checking if you’re as full of shit as you sound.”
His fingers pushed lower, brushing through the trimmed patch of hair right above my cock. The touch was light, teasing, fingertips grazing the short curls like he had all morning to play. I felt my dick twitch hard, already leaking, and my face burned. Thrilled didn’t even cover it. Part of me wanted to knee him in the balls. The rest of me was buzzing, skin tight, heart hammering like I’d just sprinted up stairs.
“You’re such a dick,” I muttered, but it came out breathy. My hips jerked without permission when his hand kept moving, slow circles through my pubes, nails scraping just enough to make my balls draw up tight.
Jessy kissed my shoulder, open-mouthed and lazy, lips soft against the muscle there. “Yeah? Then why are you leaking all over my fingers already?” His voice was pure filth, low and conversational like we were talking about the weather. “Feel that? You’re soaked, Brady. One little hand down your shorts and you’re dripping like a faucet.”
I tried to shove his arm away, but he just tightened his hold, pulling me harder against him. His cock was fully hard now, thick and heavy, pressed right between my cheeks through our boxers. The friction made my head spin. “Stop fucking around,” I said, but my voice sounded wrecked even to me. Thrilled and pissed off at the same time—angry that he could do this to me, and stupidly turned on that he was.
His fingers dipped lower, right to the base of my shaft. I felt the heat of his palm hovering there, so close I could almost feel it wrapping around me. My cock jumped, begging for it, and a fresh bead of pre-cum slid down the head. Jessy’s mouth moved to the side of my neck, kissing slow and wet, teeth grazing just enough to make me shiver.
“See?” he whispered against my skin. “Told you. Can’t resist. Your body’s already mine, even if your mouth’s still lying.”
I was right there—heart pounding, ass pressed back against him, his hand about to close around my dick—when something in me snapped. I bucked hard, elbow flying back, and this time I connected enough to make him loosen his grip. I scrambled forward on my knees, breaking free, and shoved up to my feet so fast the room tilted for a second.
“Fuck this,” I snapped, yanking my boxers up higher like that would fix anything. My cock was still rock hard, tenting the front obscenely, wet spot dark against the gray fabric. I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. “I’m done playing your little game.”
Jessy stayed on the floor for a beat, leaning back on his hands, legs spread wide so his own erection strained against his black boxers like it was putting on a show. He looked way too pleased with himself, chest rising and falling, that smug grin still plastered on his face. “Running to the bathroom? Cute. Real mature, Brady.”
I flipped him off and headed straight for the door, bare feet slapping the tile. “Whatever. Enjoy jerking off to your own ego.”
His laugh followed me, low and easy. “This is just the beginning, you know.”
I paused in the doorway, hand on the frame, back still to him. My skin was still tingling where his fingers had been, shoulder wet from his mouth, dick throbbing like it hadn’t gotten the memo we were leaving.
Jessy kept talking, voice carrying across the room like he was telling me the score in a game only he understood. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be leaking cum at the mere mention of my name. One word from me and you’ll be hard and dripping in your jeans in the middle of class. You’ll be thinking about my hand in your shorts every time you close your eyes. And you’ll hate it. And you’ll fucking love it.”
I gripped the doorframe tighter, jaw clenched so hard it hurt. My cock gave another pathetic twitch at his words, traitor that it was. Thrilled and furious all over again. “Never,” I said, forcing the word out steady even though my voice was rough. “Never gonna happen, Jessy. Keep dreaming.”
I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, clicking the lock loud enough for him to hear. The challenge hung in the air between us like smoke—thick, heavy, and way too tempting. I leaned back against the wood, breathing hard, and tried to ignore how badly I already wanted to prove him wrong. Or maybe prove him right. Fuck if I knew anymore.
Chapter 12 – Classroom Gossip
The lecture hall smelled like burnt coffee and desperation. I got there early on purpose, middle row, end seat, backpack dumped on the chair next to me like a “fuck off” sign. Notebook open. Pen ready. Head down. Normal. Chill. Whatever. After the morning’s floor-wrestling bullshit and that locked-bathroom escape, I needed space. Lots of it. Jessy’s voice still echoed in my head—*by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be leaking cum at the mere mention of my name*—and I hated how my dick had twitched at the words even while I was brushing my teeth like a normal human.
I was halfway through pretending to reread last week’s notes when the door creaked open. Late, of course. Jessy strolled in like the room had been waiting for him, black hoodie half-zipped, jeans slung low enough to show the waistband of those same boxer briefs from earlier. His eyes scanned the rows, landed on me, and that slow, evil grin spread across his face.
He walked straight down the aisle. I grabbed my backpack, ready to slide two seats over, but he was faster. Dropped into the seat beside me like he owned it, knee bumping mine under the desk on purpose.
“Miss me?” he asked, voice low enough for only me to hear but loud enough that the guy in front turned around with a smirk.
I yanked my leg away. “There’s an entire empty row behind us. Go sit in it and dream about me from a distance.”
Jessy leaned back, arm stretching along the back of my chair like we were at the movies. “Nah. I like the view from here. Plus, the whole class already knows you’re my favorite seat warmer.”
A couple of heads turned. Someone in the back row snickered. Jessy didn’t even blink. He just raised his voice a little, casual as hell, like he was announcing the weather. “Seriously, guys, Brady here keeps trying to act all tough, but every night he’s in our room staring at me like he wants to climb me like a tree. Begs me to let him be my little bottom. Tells me how bad he wants to kiss me goodnight. Real romantic shit.”
The room went that kind of quiet where everyone’s pretending not to listen but absolutely is. My face went hot. I could feel eyes on us. Some girl two rows up actually turned all the way around, grinning.
I didn’t miss a beat. “Keep dreaming, Delgado. Last I checked, the only thing I beg for is for you to shut the fuck up and put a shirt on. You’re the one who sleeps naked and wakes up hard every morning like a walking billboard for repressed shit. Maybe stop projecting your wet dreams onto me.”
Jessy’s eyes lit up like I’d just served him the perfect setup. He leaned in closer, elbow on the desk, voice still carrying. “Projecting? Baby, I don’t have to dream. I remember exactly how you sounded when my hand was down your shorts this morning. All breathy and pissed off and leaking like you couldn’t help it. Tell the class—how many times did you say ‘I hate you’ while your dick was trying to jump into my palm?”
Heat shot straight down my spine. Half the room was watching now, phones probably already out. I wanted to sink through the floor. Instead I turned and looked him dead in the eye, voice sharp and sweet. “At least I’m not the one sending myself to sleep every night jerking off to the idea of pinning me down. Must get lonely in that big ego of yours, huh? Keep telling yourself I’m your bottom. We both know the only ass you’re getting is from your own hand.”
Someone in the back whistled. Jessy laughed, low and dirty, like I’d just flirted instead of insulted him. “Damn, Clark. Keep talking like that and I might actually let you top one of these nights. You’d look cute trying.”
“Dream on,” I shot back. “I’d rather fuck the radiator in our room. At least it doesn’t talk.”
The professor walked in right then, clapping her hands once like she was breaking up a bar fight. “All right, settle down, children. We’re not in the locker room.”
Jessy slouched lower in his seat, knee sliding back against mine under the desk and staying there. I didn’t move it. The lecture started—something about supply chains or whatever the hell we were supposed to be learning—and I tried to focus. Pen moving. Notes happening. Sort of.
My phone buzzed in my lap.
Jessy: you look so fucking cute when you’re pretending not to be hard rn
I glanced sideways. He was staring straight ahead, innocent as hell, one hand under the desk where I couldn’t see it. I typed fast.
Brady: fuck off. pay attention or flunk like usual
Another buzz.
Jessy: already hard thinking about bending you over that desk after class. pulling those jeans down real slow while everyone’s gone. you’d let me, wouldn’t you? bet you’re leaking just reading this
I shifted in my seat. My cock gave a traitorous twitch against my zipper. I hated him. I really did. But the words sent a low thrum through my stomach anyway.
Brady: you wish. keep dreaming about my ass, loser. i’m not even thinking about you
Jessy: liar. i can see you squirming. remember this morning? my fingers in your pubes? how wet you got? imagine my mouth there instead. sucking you slow while you try not to moan my name in the middle of class
The phone buzzed again. This time it was a photo. Jessy had clearly taken it under the desk—his hand shoved down the front of his jeans, thick cock outlined hard against the denim, thumb brushing over the wet spot already forming at the tip. The angle was filthy. I could see the dark trail of hair disappearing under the waistband, the way his abs flexed just a little.
My mouth went dry. My own dick throbbed hard enough that I had to press the heel of my hand against it under the notebook. Fuck.
Brady: delete that shit before someone sees your sad little dick pic. embarrassing
Jessy: sad? it’s been thinking about your mouth since breakfast. bet you’d look good choking on it. i’d hold your hair, make you take every inch while you glare up at me like you hate it
I typed one-handed, jaw tight.
Brady: you’re so full of yourself it’s actually sad. go jerk off in the bathroom like the perv you are
Jessy: nah. i’m saving it for tonight. gonna pin you down again, hand back in your shorts, but this time i’m not stopping when you freak out. gonna stroke you slow till you’re begging. till you’re saying my name like it’s the only word you know
Another picture came through. This one was worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it. Jessy had pulled his cock out just enough for the head to peek over the waistband of his boxers, shiny with pre-cum, veins standing out. His thumb was right there, smearing it. The caption underneath: *this could be in your hand rn if you stopped being a bitch about it*
I stared too long. My face felt hot. My jeans felt tighter. I could picture it—his hand guiding mine, that smug voice in my ear telling me exactly how he wanted it. I hated how much I wanted to hate it.
Brady: gross. put that thing away before you get us both expelled. i’d rather fuck a cactus
Jessy: you say that but your face is red as hell. i bet you’re so hard right now it hurts. tell me i’m wrong
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because he wasn’t wrong. My cock was aching, pressed uncomfortably against my zipper, a wet spot probably forming in my boxers already. I crossed my legs, trying to hide it, but Jessy’s knee nudged mine again, like he knew.
Jessy: good boy. keep pretending. makes it hotter when you finally break. tonight i’m gonna kiss that spot on your neck you like so much. the one that makes your hips jerk. then i’m sliding my hand down again, through all that pretty trimmed hair, and wrapping my fingers around you till you’re leaking all over my fist. you’ll hate how good it feels. you’ll hate me. and you’ll still come harder than you ever have
I typed fast, teeth gritted.
Brady: keep sending pics and i’m blocking you. and telling the RA you’re sexually harassing the furniture again
Jessy: furniture doesn’t leak when i talk dirty to it. you do
He sent one more picture. This time it was him in the bathroom mirror from this morning—shirtless, boxers shoved down just enough to show the full hard length of his cock, hand wrapped around the base, eyes looking straight at the camera like he was daring me. The message underneath: *your move, bottom boy*
I locked the phone and shoved it in my pocket, heart hammering. The professor was still droning on about demand curves or some shit. I hadn’t written a single note in ten minutes. My skin felt too tight. My dick felt too interested. Jessy sat there beside me, knee still pressed against mine, looking perfectly relaxed while I was quietly losing my mind.
He leaned over just enough for his shoulder to brush mine. “You good, Brady?” he whispered, voice all innocent concern and filthy promise at the same time. “You look a little... tense.”
I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Because if I did, I was pretty sure I’d either punch him or drag him into the nearest empty stairwell, and I wasn’t sure which one scared me more.
“Fuck you,” I muttered under my breath.
Jessy’s quiet laugh was warm against my ear. “That’s the plan, baby. That’s the plan.”
That evening the room felt smaller than usual, like the walls had decided to lean in for the gossip. I’d dragged Noah back with me after class, plus Mia and Leo, because being alone with my own head after Jessy’s nonstop text torture sounded like a one-way ticket to losing my mind. Noah sprawled across my bed like he paid rent, long legs kicked up on the wall, that perpetual smirk already in place. Mia sat cross-legged on Jessy’s mattress, scrolling her phone but mostly watching me with that sharp, knowing look she got when she smelled drama. Leo leaned against the desk, nursing a warm beer from the mini-fridge, his chill surfer-dude vibe making everything sound like a casual observation even when it wasn’t.
I was pacing between the beds, still half in my jeans from class, shirt untucked. “I swear to God, he’s actually trying to break me. Like, psychologically. The texts during lecture? Filthy. And he just sits there looking smug while I’m pretending to take notes on supply chains or whatever the fuck.”
Noah snorted, not even looking up from his phone. “Supply chains. Right. Because that’s what had your face red the whole hour.”
Mia grinned, tossing her dark curls over one shoulder. She was the kind of girl who said whatever popped into her head and made it sound like the funniest truth on earth. “Dude, you’re obsessed. Be honest. All this ‘I hate him’ energy? It’s giving ‘I want to climb him like a tree and hate-fuck him into next semester.’”
I stopped pacing. “I do not fancy him. I don’t fancy anyone who walks around like his dick is the second coming of Jesus. He’s an asshole. End of story.”
Leo chuckled low, voice all easy and drawled out like he was half-asleep even when he was roasting you. “Man, you say that every time. But your mouth says hate and your eyes say ‘please ruin my life in the hottest way possible.’ I’ve seen the way you look at him when he’s not looking.”
“Traitor,” I muttered, dropping onto the edge of my bed next to Noah. “You’re all useless. I bring you here for backup and you ship me with the enemy.”
Noah finally set his phone down, smirking wider. “Backup? Bro, we’re here for popcorn. This is better than Netflix. Tell us again how he had his hand down your shorts this morning. Slowly. With details.”
I groaned, face heating up. “It wasn’t like that. He was being a prick. I shoved him off. End of.”
Mia leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Mmm-hmm. And yet here you are, venting about him for the third time this week. Obsessed. It’s cute. Maybe you actually like the big dumb golden retriever energy mixed with ‘I will pin you down and make you beg’ vibes. It’s possible, Brady. You can admit it. We won’t judge. Much.”
“I don’t,” I said, sharper than I meant. My voice came out defensive, and I hated how it sounded. “I hate the way he crowds me. The way he smiles like he already knows how this ends. The way he—” I cut myself off, because admitting the rest would just prove her point. “Whatever. He’s a walking red flag with abs. I’m not into it.”
Leo took a slow sip of beer. “Red flag with abs. That’s a new one. Sounds like you’ve cataloged the whole package, though.”
Before I could fire back, the door swung open without a knock. Jessy stepped in, still in the same low-slung jeans from class, hoodie unzipped now so the black T-shirt underneath clung to his chest like it had been ironed on. His eyes scanned the room, landed on me, and that slow, wicked grin spread across his face like he’d just won the lottery.
“Well, well,” he said, voice warm and lazy as he kicked the door shut behind him. “Company. And here I thought I’d come home to Brady pouting alone after all those texts.”
He crossed the room like it was his stage, dropped right onto my bed next to me—close enough that his thigh pressed against mine, warm and solid. One arm slid along the back of the mattress behind my shoulders, not quite touching but close enough that I felt the heat rolling off him. Noah raised an eyebrow. Mia’s grin turned full Cheshire. Leo just chuckled into his beer like he was watching his favorite sitcom.
“Jessy,” I said, trying to sound bored. I shifted, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. His arm stayed put, fingers brushing the back of my neck in a way that was definitely on purpose. “We’re having a conversation. Without you.”
“Aw, baby, don’t be like that.” He leaned in, voice dropping low and sweet, right against my ear so the others could still hear every word. “You looked so tense in class. All that pretending not to read my messages. Thought I’d come help you unwind.” His fingers traced a lazy circle on my shoulder, light but enough to make my skin prickle. “Missed you after you ran off to the bathroom this morning. You left me hanging. Literally.”
Mia let out a delighted laugh. “Oh my God, this is gold. Keep going, Jessy. He’s been bitching about you for twenty minutes straight.”
Jessy’s grin widened. He didn’t pull back. Instead he hooked his arm fully around my shoulders now, tugging me against his side like we were old lovers catching up. His body was warm, solid muscle under the thin shirt, and I could smell that stupid cedar-vanilla scent that always got under my skin. “Bitching about me? That’s cute. Usually he saves the dirty talk for when we’re alone.”
I elbowed him lightly in the ribs, but it just made him pull me closer. “Get off me, Delgado. My friends don’t need the full performance.”
“Performance?” He turned his head, mouth inches from mine, eyes locking on like the rest of the room didn’t exist. “This isn’t a performance, Brady. This is me reminding you how good it feels when I’m this close. Remember this morning? My hand sliding down your shorts, fingers in all that pretty trimmed hair? You were so wet for it. Leaking like you’d die if I stopped.”
Noah whistled low. “Damn. He’s smooth.”
Mia fanned herself dramatically. “I’m shipping it harder now. Brady, blink twice if you need rescuing. Or if you want us to leave so you two can continue whatever this is.”
“I don’t need rescuing,” I muttered, but my voice came out rougher than I wanted. Jessy’s thumb was stroking slow circles on my collarbone now, right where my shirt collar sat open, and it was sending little sparks straight down my spine. My cock twitched in my jeans despite everything. “And I definitely don’t fancy him. He’s just… annoyingly persistent.”
Jessy laughed soft against my temple, the sound low and filthy. “Annoyingly persistent. That’s new. Usually it’s ‘arrogant prick’ or ‘walking ego with a dick.’ I’m growing on you.” He squeezed my shoulder, pulling me in tighter so my side pressed fully against his chest. “Admit it, baby. You like when I talk sweet to you. Like when I tell you how I’ve been thinking about that mouth of yours all day. How I’d rather be kissing you right now than listening to your friends pretend they’re not enjoying the show.”
I turned my head to glare at him, but our faces were too close. His eyes were dark, amused, and way too focused on my mouth. “Keep dreaming. I told you this morning—your game doesn’t work on me anymore. You can sweet-talk all you want. I’m not affected.”
“Liar.” His voice dropped even lower, just for me, but loud enough the others caught it. “Your pulse is racing right here.” His fingers pressed lightly against the side of my neck. “And I bet if I slid my hand down again, right now, in front of your little audience, you’d be hard as hell and pretending you hate it.”
Leo chuckled. “This is better than foreplay. You two need a room. Oh wait—you already share one.”
Noah smirked. “Yeah, Brady. Stop fighting it. The chemistry is so thick I need a hazmat suit.”
Mia clapped her hands once. “Exactly! Obsessed. Fancy. Call it whatever. But the way you two eye-fuck each other? Iconic.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Jessy beat me to it, turning that charm up full blast. He brushed a loose strand of hair off my forehead with his free hand, all casual affection that felt way too good. “See? Even your friends see it. You’re cute when you’re in denial, Brady. Makes me want to kiss that pout right off your face. Slow. Right here.” His thumb traced my bottom lip for half a second, eyes locked on mine. “Then maybe take you apart nice and easy so you stop pretending you don’t want my hands on you every night.”
Heat flooded my face. My cock was definitely interested now, pressing against my zipper, and I hated how my body leaned into his arm without meaning to. “You’re so full of shit,” I said, but it came out breathy, almost a laugh. “Keep sweet-talking like that and I might actually throw up. Or throw you out.”
Jessy’s grin turned wicked. He didn’t move his arm. Didn’t stop touching me. “Throw me out? After I just got comfortable? Nah. I think I’ll stay right here. Arm around my favorite roommate. Telling him how good he looks all flustered and hard just from a little attention.” His voice stayed light, conversational, but the look he gave me was pure heat. “You gonna keep denying it, baby? Or finally admit you like when I get close like this?”
The room went quiet except for Mia’s soft “holy shit” under her breath. My friends were watching like this was prime entertainment, but all I could feel was Jessy’s thigh against mine, his arm heavy and warm around my shoulders, and the way his eyes dared me to keep pretending.
I swallowed hard. “Keep it up and I’ll show you exactly how much I don’t like it.”
Jessy’s laugh was low and warm against my ear. “That’s my boy. Can’t wait to see you try.”
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