LOGINThis time is different.Because this time, I didn’t just cross a line.I obliterated it.I did exactly what Nate told me not to do.Exactly what I swore I wouldn’t do again.And the worst part? I know what it will cost him.Nate my anchor, my history, the one person I’ve never wanted to hurt.Guilt presses into my chest until it almost hurts to breathe.So I move before I can think better of it.I pull Vincent back into me, refusing distance, refusing logic. His body fits against mine as I wrap around him, holding him like if I loosen my grip even slightly, something irreversible will happen.“I don’t want space,” I murmur against his hair.My voice drops lower, darker. “I want you right here.”I tighten my hold until his breath catches.“Honestly,” I add, almost cruelly soft, “if I hadn’t already had you shaking under me,
Slower.Until he shifts me just slightly just enoughAnd I realize too late what that means.His fingers slip lower, teasing, testing, barely there but enough to short-circuit every thought I still had left.My breath breaks completely.Then he moves again.And I see it.The lube.The cap opening.A small, quiet sound.Final.Intentional.My stomach drops.Because this isn’t accidental anymore.This is planned.Theo’s gaze darkens further, eyelids heavy now, like he’s holding himself back by force alone.And thenHe touches me again.Deliberately slower this time. Focused. Direct.My body jerks instantly, reaction pure and unfiltered. A sound tears out of me too loud, too honest, too late to take back.He doesn’t stop.He watches every second of it.Like he’s learning me.Memorizing every respon
Except nothing about him ever looks effortless. Not really. Not when it’s him.Silence stretches between us.Heavy. Charged. Wrong in a way I don’t know how to fix.I should wait. Let him lead. Let him decide what this is.Yes. That’s the plan.Calm. Controlled. Normal.“I douched,” I say suddenly.The words land like a grenade in a quiet room.Theo freezes.His eyes widen.His mouth follows.For a split second, he looks genuinely shocked.For a longer second, so do I.“Oo ” I start.Nope. That wasn’t English.I try again. It comes out worse.Theo drops his bag. It hits the floor with a dull thud that snaps me back into my body.And that’s when I notice it.The object in my hand.Cold. Smooth. Cylindrical.Lube.Of course it’s lube.My soul tries to leave my body.I
I lay there for hours, staring into nothing, replaying everything like a curse I couldn’t shut off. Even now, at breakfast, the echo of last night still burns on my lips. Tingling. Persistent. Unfair.Coffee. Fruit. Silence.And still my body hasn’t gotten the message.Across from me sits Theo.Not eating. Not speaking. Not even doing his usual restless nonsense no chair rocking, no shoulder rolls, no amused little distractions he usually hides behind.Just… watching.Like I’m the only thing in the room worth looking at.Elbow on the table. Chin resting on his hand. Completely still.Then I glance up.And he smiles.Slow.Intentional.His teeth drag lightly over his bottom lip unhurried, almost absentminded but it lands like a strike anyway. A quiet, deliberate provocation.His eyes don’t look away.Not once.Lockie keeps flicking between us like he
He closes the distance in a few steps, but it feels like time breaks apart while he does it. Like the hallway stretches just to trap me inside this moment.When he’s close enough to touch, he turns slightly away.And lifts a hand.Slowly.Like he’s remembering something.He reaches behind his head.Ties his hair.Except he doesn’t put it in.He pulls the band free instead.Black. Simple. Familiar.Then he looks back at me.And offers it.Just like that.My brain short-circuits.I take it without thinking. Fingers numb. Heart hammering so hard I swear it’s audible.“What… is this?” I manage.Theo doesn’t answer right away.Instead, he steps closer again.Takes my wrist.And slides the hair tie onto it.Deliberate.Careful.Like he’s placing something that belongs there.M
That look.The kind that came from somewhere below language. "Walking you to your room."I turned and started down the hallway before my face could do something I'd regret.This hotel was one of my favorites black and white checkered floors, low dramatic lighting, the kind of moody elegance that felt borrowed from a different era. The corridor was wide enough for three people shoulder to shoulder.With Theo directly behind me, it felt like a corridor built for one.I found my room number, stopped, and reached back for my bag.He didn't hand it over immediately.I turned around.He was closer than I'd registered close enough that I had to tilt my chin slightly to meet his eyes. He was looking at me with that expression he'd been wearing all evening the one I couldn't parse, the one that lived in the contested territory between anger and something rawer and less safe."Theo." My voice ca
Luca Moretti POVHours after the final whistle, the noise is gone but the adrenaline isnāt. Iām back home, loose from a few victory beers, stretched out on my bed while the win still hums under my skin. My mind wonāt shut up. So I scroll. Pointless. Desperate. Hunting.TikTok flickers past my eyes,
Tyler Bennett povāWhoās down for dinner at my place next weekend?ā I ask. āFriday night.āWeāve got the day off, and the next gameās at home perfect timing. Carter, Jace, and a handful of the guys are still hanging around after film review, dissecting last nightās game. For once, even Coach Santos
Luca Moretti pov āI was right,ā Bennett says as he saunters toward my car. Pale denim hugs his legs, the white puffer making his skin glow and his teeth blindingly white. Exactly what I didnāt need right now.āItās a date,ā he adds, resting an elbow casually on the open passenger window, leaning h
āHot chocolate was a big deal for us growing up,ā he says, voice low, almost reverent. āMom used to make it sometimes, and theyād tease us, forcing us to say chocolat like thisā¦ā He tilts his head back and does a truly terrible, phlegmy French accent. āā¦or weād only get one marshmallow.āThereās a







