“I’m not accusing you of anything, I just . . . I don’t know. I want to know what your routine is.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth and then pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear, only to cup my cheek. “This past week, I was focused on getting back to my room so I could talk to you. I didn’t even acknowledge the presence of cleat chasers in the hallways. Ever since you moved to Chicago, my focus has been on you. I haven’t wanted anyone but you, and I can’t stop fucking drawing you either, which tells me one thing—you’re consuming me.” My cheeks burn with embarrassment of my question, and with excitement from his confession. “Have I hooked up with a cleat chaser before? Stupidly, yes, but that was when I was fresh in the majors and didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I’d just wanted sex. Are there guys on the team who indulge every night? Yeah, but I’m not one of them. Never have been. I had a regular routine when it came to sex, one that I’m not super proud of, but it was mindless for me, something to expel the energy built up inside me. Like you and Stan. But that all changed the minute you stepped foot in this apartment.” He drags his thumb over my lip and says, “You don’t ever have to worry about me cheating on you, Kinsley. It’s never going to happen. I know how good I’ve got it. Plus”—he takes a deep breath and looks away—“I know how it feels to be cheated on. If I’m not happy, I’ll tell you. I won’t ever go behind your back to find someone else.”

I brush my fingers through his hair and around his ear. “I’m sorry I even brought it up,” I say, feeling guilty I let the thought pass through my mind. I should have known better, especially because of Jamie.

“Don’t apologize. I understand this journey is going to be hard, but we need to trust each other.”

“I trust you. I really do,” I say quickly. “I guess I was just curious, that’s all.”

“Curiosity is okay, not believing me is not.”

“I believe you.”

He nods and moves his hands up my sides, dragging my shirt with him so his thumbs rest on my ribcage. “You better. Are you good, now?”

I nod. “Very good.”

“Does that mean I get to take your shirt off?”

I laugh and shake my head. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Can I cop a feel?”

“No.”

He rests his head against the headboard, takes a deep breath and then looks at me again. “Make out?”

“Yes, we can make out, but I feel like I should get off your lap.”

He holds me still. “No, stay. Move your hips when we make out. I heard that’s the new way of doing things.”

“Oh my God.” I push at his chest, as he laughs and captures me just as I roll off him. He pins me against the mattress, hands at my side. “That is not the new way, Maddox, that’s dry-humping.”

“Nothing wrong with dry-humping,” he says, moving his pelvis on top of mine where I can feel his length. “Clothes are on, so it’s just friction.” He leans down and presses a kiss along my neck, turning me on. “Friction never hurt anyone.”

Shamelessly I spread my legs, letting his pelvis fall right on mine.

“What happened to letting me have all the power?”

His tongue runs along my jaw and then up to my ear where he nibbles on the lobe. “Tell me to stop then.”

If only I could.

It’s not that easy though. I want him more than air itself. I want to feel him all over my body. I want his hands on my breasts, on my stomach, on my pussy. I want to know what it feels like to have him drag his tongue along my skin, his hot, wet tongue firing up every nerve. I want to see him naked, stretched out on this bed, shameless with his hands behind his head, his body submitting to me. I want to know if his cock is pierced—if it’s what I think it is—if he can hit my G-spot and make me come so hard, I’ll never be the same.

But I also don’t want to lose what we’re trying to accomplish . . . dating.

“You’re thinking too much,” he whispers as his mouth floats over mine.

A war builds in my head. I want to feel him, but I also want to stay reserved, but with every pass of his mouth over mine, my resolve falters until I hear myself say, “Kissing only. No touching. Dry-humping is allowed.”

He chuckles against my cheek. “You sure know how to make things interesting.”

“Can’t handle it, Maddox?”

“Oh, I can fucking handle it.” He lifts off me and asks, “What about clothes?”

“They stay on.”

He nods. “All right, challenge accepted.” With his knee, he spreads my legs even farther and says, “Don’t move your legs, keep them spread.”

His voice changes—it becomes darker. More throaty. More . . . commanding. Sexy.

He laces our fingers together and he holds my hands on either side of my head as he lowers his mouth down to mine while his knees fall between my spread legs, not touching me, just hovering.

I want to glance down, to see his erection, but it’s next to impossible when his tongue thrusts inside my mouth and starts claiming me. He’s greedy, hungry, not holding back as he swipes, dips, and caresses my mouth with his tongue. I try to keep up, but it’s hard when I’m fighting with every sensation of his touch that’s doing a damn fine job overtaking my thoughts. I get lost in his feel, in the command and strength of his body. How can he keep so still, but shoot off fireworks through my veins with only the use of his mouth?

Nothing else.

He holds true to his word.

No touching, kissing only, and clothes on, and yet, my pussy is throbbing with need, my legs shake with desire, as pleasure starts to pool in my center, building and building to the point that I can feel the thrum of my clit, begging for more, twitching my legs, sending my entire system into overdrive.

“God, I need your cock on me,” I say in between kisses.

“Turned on?” he asks.

“So much.” Being spread like this, my underwear becoming wet with each pass of his mouth over mine, the cool air shocking me, combined with his hot mouth. It almost feels like too much, too many sensations pulling and tugging through me, wanting me to go left, right, feel the beat of my pulse, the pound of my heart.

“Ask for it, Kin. Ask for my cock.”

Yes. He can talk dirty in my ear any freaking day.

I nip at his bottom lip and tug on it. “Give me your cock, Maddox.”

He pauses, his eyes heady as he lets my words sink in, words I never thought I’d utter, but words that slipped off my tongue easily. Words I’m relieved I could finally say.

Keeping his eyes on mine, our lips parted for a few moments, he lowers his pelvis to mine and dips his cock just lightly against my parted center.

A hiss escapes my lips from the featherlike pressure on my clit. “You’re so hard,” I say, as he presses down again, this time adding a slight wave to the movement so his cock rolls up against my clit. “Jesus, Maddox.”

“Want more?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

“Mmm . . . too bad you’ll have to wait a little bit longer.” He lifts his hips and begins to work my mouth once again. This time, he’s light with his kisses. Not hungry, not demanding, just exploratory.

It’s torture, feeling him briefly only to be teased with his mouth again. And because he has my hands pinned down, I can’t move to touch him, feel him, encourage him to give me more. All I have is my mouth and even at that, when I try to apply more pressure, he pulls away.

“Give in, Kinsley. I’m in charge, so stop trying to get more.”

“You’re torturing me.”

“This is what you wanted.”

“No—” His hips fall against mine again. “More, Maddox.”

He dips again and rolls.

Dips and rolls. Barely touching me, just enough to cause my clit to erupt with need.

Uncomfortable pressure starts to build, pressure that needs immediate relief, but from the way he stays away from me, I’m not going to feel that relief anytime soon.

“Fuck, Maddox,” I say as his lips fall to my neck, along my collarbone. He pauses, and I watch as his eyes fall to my breasts, my nipples so hard that they’re mere nubs poking against my shirt.

With a look of passion in his eyes, he lowers his chest to mine where he gently rubs his bare chest against my hard nipples, just the tips grazing his skin. The sensation is too much, it shoots my hips up toward his as a feral cry falls past my lips.

“Are your tits sensitive, Kinsley?”

“So sensitive.”

“Could I make you come by just rubbing them?”

“Something to try on another day. Right now, I want your cock.”

“You’re the boss,” he whispers before taking my mouth and lowering his hips all the way down to mine.

He doesn’t take his time, he doesn’t caress me, or pretend to hold back.

No, he claims my mouth like there are twenty men coming after it, and his hips rock over mine with exquisite rhythm.

He’s large, long, unlike any cock I’ve felt before. And the way he moves his hips, rocking over my clit, rubbing and smoothing . . . God, it’s igniting a flame in me, setting it off like a wildfire in my veins, digging deep to my bones and every muscle in my body.