Page 21 of Stables Spurs Suits
“I saw you at the bottom. I just… You weren’t moving, and I thought…”
His chest is heaving, as his desperate gaze stares at me wide-eyed, almost as if he’s not believing what he’s seeing.
“Breathe,” I say, moving my hand to lie flat against his chest over his heart. The rapid thumping of it echoes through my palm. “Breathe, Matthew. In slowly. Count to three. Out slowly. Come on.”
He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he follows my direction, slowly breathing in and out, until his heart slows to a steady rhythm and the color returns to his face.
“That’s better,” I say, and he lets go of my arms for the first time since pulling me up to the surface.
“Sorry,” he says, voice barely a whisper.
“For what? Trying to save me?”
“You didn’t need saving, though.”
“No, but you didn’t know that.”
I glance down through the ripples of the water.
“You didn’t even take off your boots.”
“There wasn’t time. I didn’t even think. Shit,” he says, reaching into his pockets under the water and pulling out his phone. Water drips from it, and I bite my lip trying to stifle my laugh.
“It’s really not funny. Do you know how many notes I have on this thing?”
“I’m sure it’s all backed up, though, right?”
He pouts.
“Well, yes, but that still doesn’t make it funny.”
“Sort of kind of does.”
He splashes me, and without thinking, I splash back.
“Oh, you’re in for it now,” he says, and he splashes me again, only this time I grab his wrists, and we spin in the water until he’s pressed against me, his wide smile reaching his eyes that shine even brighter somehow under the moonlight than they ever have. Then, without thinking, I do something I really shouldn’t.
I kiss him.
He leans into the kiss, soft lips parting for my eager tongue, and I release his wrists to grip his waist as his hands slide around to my back. I brace for the skin-crawling sensation that’s always there under anyone’s touch, but when it doesn’t come, the ache in my cock spurs me on harder. I pull him closer, moaning into his mouth.
His hands slip lower, clenching fistfuls of my ass cheeks as he grinds against me. His erection is like a rock through the thick fabric of his soaked jeans.
I’ve never known this. Known what it was like to want someone’s hands on me, to want to know how they feel against my bare skin, and now that I have a taste of what it can be like, I want more. But he pulls away.
“Not here,” he says, glancing past me. “Someone could walk by.”
His words cut through the blinding desire, and I step back.
“You’re right. We can’t do this,” I say, taking another step back.
“I didn’t mean—“
“No. I’m… I’m sorry.”
I turn and push myself up out of the water at the edge of the pool, the cool air surrounding me snuffing out the fire that raged within.
“Atlas,” he calls, and the way he says it, all breathy and desperate, makes me pause.
