Code Red by N.R. Walker

Chapter Eight

I tookhold of Maddox’s face in my hands and crushed my mouth to his. He wanted a proper kiss, so I gave it to him. Open lips, tongues, tasting and teasing. I tilted his head just so and kissed him deeper, harder.

He lifted his hands as if to touch me, maybe wrap around me, but they stopped mid-air and slowly fell to his sides. He melted into me and he let me claim his mouth, giving this perfect moment to me.

Him. Maddox freaking Kershaw was in my arms, his body against me, his mouth open for me. He was so warm, he tasted so sweet, like iced tea and mint gum. He smelled of citrus and desire, and he groaned into my mouth.

His hands found purchase on my back, my shoulders, my ass.

It wasn’t enough.

So I walked him backward to the bed and he broke the kiss to smile, surprised. Heavy eyelids, plump and wet lips, messed up hair; he was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

I hitched his thigh around my hip and kneeled on the bed, laying him down. He chuckled until I pressed my weight onto his and claimed his mouth again. I swallowed down his moan and he let his legs fall open.

I could feel how hard he was. His erection pressed against mine through our jeans, and the friction drove sparks behind my eyelids. Then he gripped my hair and pulled, and I realized just how close I was to coming.

I pulled back, trying to catch my breath. Trying to find my senses.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, as breathless as me.

“Nothing, I just . . . need to slow down a bit.”

He laughed and writhed underneath me, hooking one leg around mine, pulling our hips harder together. He ran a hand over my ass, gripping me and grinding against me, and my eyes rolled back in my head. “You’re really fucking hot,” he murmured. He writhed again, rolling his hips, needing more. “And I’m really fucking turned on. It feels so good to feel something, Roscoe. I want to feel everything. I want to . . .”

Christ, he was begging, pleading. Desperate, and wanting. And so sexy.

I slipped my hand between us, under the waistband of his jeans, and palmed his cock. He was so hard and so hot in my hand, I barely got my fingers wrapped around him before he arched with his head back, flexed like a bow strung too tight, and he pulsed in my hand.

His mouth fell open in a silent scream, the veins in his neck stood out, his face flush pink as he came.

And I thought he was beautiful before.

He jerked with an aftershock and groaned out a laugh. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. “That hit me from nowhere.”

“That was hot as hell,” I whispered with a kiss to his jaw.

I let go of his still-hard dick and he winced, but he had a dreamy, smiley look on his face as he unbuttoned my jeans. “Your turn.” I was going to say no, I meant to say no, but any hope of stopping him died when he gripped my shaft. “Fucking hell, Roscoe,” he murmured as he pumped me. “You feel like heaven. Look at me.”

I didn’t realize I had my eyes shut. I met his gaze and he smirked. Maddox squeezed my cock, pumped and squeezed again, sliding and twisting his hold on me. “I want to see the look in your eyes when I make you come.”

And that was all it took.

Pleasure detonated low in my belly as I thrust into his fist. I cried out, shuddering with the power of my orgasm, rocking into his hold, and he kissed me as I came back down to earth. Maybe that was why it felt like I was floating for so long.

His sweet, smiling kisses. Sleepy, sighing kisses.

I didn’t want to come back down, ever.

“We need to shower,” he murmured. “Come on. Up we get.” He untangled us, rolled off the bed, and disappeared into the en suite.

“The room’s still spinning,” I replied.

His laughter echoed out from the bathroom before I heard the shower turn on. “Now, Mr. Hall. Your services are required.”

I snorted and dragged myself off his bed, walked into the bathroom, and stopped mid-stride.

He was shirtless, sitting on a bench seat in his huge private bathroom, unlacing his boots. He grinned at me. “What?”

“Just . . . you.” I waved my hand in his general direction. “Your bathroom’s a lot nicer than mine. You got a bench seat?” The truth was, his whole room was twice the size of mine, as was his bathroom. And the shower.

He tossed his boot and began on the next one. “You’re still very dressed.”

“And you’re wasting water.” The shower was running, the room beginning to steam.

“I like it hot.”

He pulled off his other boot, then his socks, and then he took off his jeans. Wearing nothing but a smirk, he walked into the shower. “You okay? You look a little stunned.”

Holy fuck.

Sure, I’d seen him in various states of undress over the years but never fully naked. And those tight pants he wore on stage were all kinds of good, but naked? He was . . . he was a freaking vision. He was fit from hours of dance, lean, maybe even a little too thin. His sleeve of ink ended at his shoulder. His skin was flawless. He was muscled in all the right places, his ass was firm, his half-hard dick hung heavy and uncut.

I ripped my boots off, tossed my shirt, and couldn’t get out of my jeans quick enough. I followed him into the shower, and with my hands on his hips, I kissed his shoulder, the nape of his neck.

Water ran off his body, hot and steaming. His hair was flattened. He put his head back, leaning against my collarbone, and he hummed.

“All those magazines and news polls that named you sexiest man,” I murmured in his ear, “have no fucking idea how sexy you really are.” I ran my hands down his arms, and holding his wrists, I put his hands on the wall in front of us, pressing myself against his back, his ass. “I want to do so many things to you.”

He barked out a laugh and turned, leaning his back against the tiles, his smile flirty and fun. “Never figured you for a dirty talker, Roscoe,” he said, pulling me close. We were both semi-hard again, our cocks pressing against each other. Desire and testosterone swirled with the steam and made me dizzy. “I like it.”

“I can tell how much you like it,” I said, kissing him again.

It was a filthy wet kiss that had little to do with water running over us, and he broke away to smile. “I take back what I said earlier. About being kissed properly before. I thought I had. But you . . .”

“Told you it was because you hadn’t been kissed by me.”

“Now I have. And I do concur. You have quite the talented mouth. And hands.” He looked down between us and went to palm my dick. “And—”

I gripped his wrist. “And we should get out of the shower. Someone’s gonna come looking for one of us soon.”

He tried to hitch his leg around my hip and I took a step back, shut the water off, and grabbed a towel. I threw it to him, then grabbed one for me. He grumbled as he dried off and tied the towel around his waist. He disappeared into his room and it occurred to me that my clothes were a mess.

Bloody hell.

After checking, my jeans were okay, but my shirt was not wearable. The jizz splatter was pretty obviously jizz. I pulled on my jeans, at least, and when I walked out to Maddox’s room, he took one look at me holding my shirt in my hand and he laughed.

He was wearing his favorite sweats and a T-shirt, looking all kinds of relaxed and comfortable. And hot as hell. His hair was finger-combed back off his face, and he looked sleepy and happy.

“Need a shirt?” he asked. He pulled out one of his bigger, oversized shirts and threw it at me. “Try that.”

It was long sleeve and black, of course, and it fit okay, if a bit tight around the arms. “Thanks.”

“Throw your shirt with my dirty laundry in the bathroom,” he said. “I’ll put a laundry call in.”

“I can take care of that for you,” I said instinctively. It was my job, after all.

He lay on the bed and smiled at me. “You’re not on the clock right now, are you?”

“Well, no. Not the last hour. But it’s really no problem.”

He rolled his eyes and patted the bed beside him. “Leave the shirt and come here.”

“Hmm,” I said, making a face. “How many shirts do you have that would fit me. If we make a mess of this one . . .”

He laughed. “I like the way you think, Roscoe. But I’m tired. Can you stay for a bit?”

I threw my dirty shirt toward the bathroom and climbed onto the bed. I lay down beside him, and he immediately snuggled into my side, his head on my chest.

It was so easy to put my arm around him, to hold him close. It was so easy to listen to him breathe, to sigh, to fall asleep.

It was all just so fucking easy.

It would have been easy to sleep beside him, to stay all night and wake up next to him in the morning. But that wasn’t our reality.

I waited until he was in a deep sleep before I peeled myself away from him. I folded the cover over him because he said he liked lots of blankets. I put my socks and boots back on, and I bagged up his laundry. I put the call in, waited for the staff to come get it, and leaving Maddox well and truly asleep, I slipped out of his room.

It was late, and I didn’t expect to see anyone. And if they saw me walking in the corridor, it didn’t mean anything. I could have been at the gym or double-checking the common room was locked or getting some ice . . .

No one would know I’d been in Maddox’s room. No one would know what we’d just done.

And I was almost back to my room. I had my key out and was just about to tap it to the door when Jeremy came around the corner with a packet of M&Ms in his hand. “Oh, hey. Needed something sweet,” he said by way of explanation.

“Sounds good,” I replied, trying to act cool. “Just heading to bed. Need anything before I turn in?”

“Nah.” He smiled kind of awkwardly and looked down at my shirt.

No, not mine. He looked at Maddox’s shirt. It was very obviously Maddox’s shirt. He wore it all the time . . .

Shit.

Jeremy’s eyes met mine, and without saying a word, he told me he knew.

Shit.

I opened my door, trying not to panic. “Okay then. If you’re all good, I’ll see you at breakfast,” I said, disappearing into my room and closing the door behind me.

My heart was hammering, my mind was racing. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.