Page 71 of Filled
Across the room, Cruz has Eli’s Henley shoved up, his hand splayed across Eli’s stomach, his mouth working along Eli’s jaw. Eli’s breathing hard, his hand fisted in the back of Cruz’s shirt.
“Bed,” Dakota whispers against my mouth. “Now.”
We move clumsily, laughing. Cruz pulls Eli up off the couch by the hand and Eli lets himself be led. and I have to look away because the look on Coach’s face—the kind of self realization that takes hold when someone has been thirsty their whole life and they finally realize they no longer need to be—is going to make me come in my jeans if I don’t.
Dakota’s bedroom is dim, lamp on low, the bed already made up with extra pillows like she planned for this. Knowing her, she probably did.
I pull my shirt over my head. Cruz is already shirtless, working on his belt, as he watches Eli with unyielding focus. Eli stands at the foot of the bed, frozen beat until Dakota sees Eli’s hesitance and goes to him, lifting up on her toes to place a reassuring kiss on his lips. She smiles at him as she slips her hands under the hem of his Henley and pulls it up, pausing patiently for him to raise his arms and let her undress him.
He’s beautiful. I’ve known it for months, but refused to let myself acknowledge it. Broad shoulders, scarred forearms, the kind of body built by decades of grappling and not by any vanity. A scattering of dark hair across his chest. Dakota runs her palms down it, slow.
I move on instinct alone.
Crossing the room in two strides, Dakota looks up at and takes a step back, giving me space. Eli watches me come. Hischest rises and falls under the lamp light, that scatter of dark hair.
“Coach.”
“Dante.”
“I want to kiss you. That alright?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Yeah.”
I bring my hand up to his jaw the way Cruz did, slower maybe, and feel the stubble against my palm. His eyes are a mossy green, gone almost black at the center, and I lean in and take his mouth.
He tastes like the whiskey it likely took to find his nerve. His lips part for me, tentatively, like he didn’t know it could be like this, so I shift slightly taking the kiss deeper. His hand lands somewhat hesitantly on my waist, fingers cool against the bare skin above my jeans. I tilt his head with my thumb at his jaw, angle him how I want him, and he makes a sound low in his chest that I’m going to think about for weeks.
Years he’s been carrying this. I can feel it in the way he kisses, the way his mouth opens for me like he’s been starved and didn’t know how to sate the hunger. I slide my other hand around to the back of his neck, hold him there, kiss him slow and deep until his fingers tighten at my waist.
“Easy,” I murmur against his mouth. “We’ve got time.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” I ask.
His forehead drops against mine. “Yeah.” That one word sounding as if his entire being has just fully exhaled for the first time ever.
I kiss him once more, soft this time, and pull back just enough to see his face. He looks half gone already and we’ve barely started. Behind me I can hear Cruz’s belt hit the floor, a telltale sign of his impatience.
“He’s been waiting since you met to get his hands on you, Coach. Don’t make him wait any longer.”
Eli huffs something that might be a laugh. “No.”
I step back. Cruz is on me with a look the second I turn, eyes hungry and bright, so I jerk my chin toward Eli.Go.
Dakota’s already back on the bed, propped against the pillows, watching with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I climb up and she comes to me, settling onto my lap, her thighs bracketing mine.
“Coach,” Cruz says.
Eli looks at him.
“Can I touch you?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Cruz crosses the room and puts his hands on Eli, and this time Eli doesn’t go rigid. He just exhales, long, like he’s been holding his breath for years. Cruz’s mouth finds his again and they kiss like they’re trying to consume each other.
I pull Dakota back to me, slide my hand under her shirt. Her skin’s warm. She arches into my touch and I kiss her neck, the spot under her ear, the place where her pulse is jumping.
