One-Time Shot (Smithton Bears #1) Read Online Lane Hayes

Categories Genre: College, M-M Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Smithton Bears Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
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“I get that.”

“Thank you,” I said softly. “I’ve learned a lot, and I think I actually like hockey now. A little.”

Jett chuckled. “I’m glad.”

More…staring.

Wait. Were we staring intentionally?

What were we doing? Why did he look so torn? Like he had something to say but didn’t dare?

We were sitting so close, and my heart was beating too fast, and…something was different here.

Something was new.

“Jett?”

“Yeah?”

Don’t do it. Don’t ruin this. Don’t ask silly questions or make this uncomfortable. Don’t⁠—

Too late.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his.

CHAPTER 10

JETT

Holy fuck. Malcolm was kissing me.

His mouth moved over mine, hesitant at first, as if he were giving me a chance to push him away. Obviously, I didn’t. But I was stunned into a sort of catatonic state for a brief moment, unsure if this was real or if I’d manifested the shit out of my crush and somehow willed it into reality.

And in my nanosecond of uncertainty, Malcolm took control, molding his lips and coaxing a wicked whimper from me. He was sure and commanding while I struggled to catch up. The slightest flick of his tongue ripped me into consciousness.

I grabbed his face between my hands and thrust inside, tilting my chin to deepen the connection and pull him against me. The ice pack slipped to the floor, and he came willingly, pushing me onto the sofa so we were chest to chest, tongues and limbs tangling.

I tossed cushions out of the way and opened my legs to make room for him, drifting my hands along his sides and hips before resting them on his ass. The urge to hump and grind was powerful, but I didn’t want to push my luck.

And yet, I was only fucking human and I was wearing a pair of goddamn boxer briefs. There was no way he couldn’t feel my erection jabbing his pubic bone. Fuck, if we kept this up, I’d embarrass myself. I hadn’t come in my underwear in years. I didn’t want to break that streak now.

I broke the kiss with a gasp, rolling sideways so Malcolm was tucked between me and the sofa. I licked my swollen lips and met his eyes. Christ, he looked as strung out as I felt, but maybe that was a good thing.

“Hey…um…”

Malcolm visibly jolted, scrambling to sit upright. He touched his mouth and let out a slow breath of air. “I was going to apologize, but you kissed me back.”

“I did.”

“You’re…”

“Bi,” I supplied.

“No one knows.” It was a statement. He was arranging evidence in his mind and organizing a new entry in a file with my name on it. Queer.

“A few people know.”

Malcolm’s gaze dipped to my mouth. His shirt was rumpled, his hair was a mess, and his glasses teetered at the tip of his nose at a precarious angle. God help me, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this turned-on by someone—guy or girl. Being this close to him was fucking with my senses. I didn’t know it was possible to simultaneously radiate wicked intelligence and sex appeal.

He dragged his tongue across his upper lip. “I want to do it again.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, let’s do it. Kiss me, Maloney.”

Malcolm crooked his hand around my nape and slanted his mouth on mine as he climbed atop me. I surrendered all control, determined to go wherever he took us.

Languid lazy kisses to fervent tongue-fucking…yeah, sign me the fuck up. The dull throb in my knee faded to nothing. I was too high on the taste of spearmint gum and the weight of his body draped over me like a blanket on a cool night to notice even a twinge of pain.

And when he slipped his fingers under my T-shirt and splayed his palm on my stomach, I was in danger of combusting on the spot.

But it just kept getting better.

Malcolm drifted his hand lower, pressing his thumb alongside my cock through the cotton barrier of my boxer briefs. I hissed in warning or surprise or just…general horniness. He was playing with fire now, but maybe he knew it.

He braced himself on his elbow and continued teasing me, rubbing my erection like a fucking genie in a bottle. “You’re hard.”

“No shit. You’re killing me, Maloney. Do something about this,” I choked out, yanking my tee off.

He arched his brow. “Like what?”

“Whatever you want.”

Malcolm’s Adam’s apple convulsed in his throat. “Oh. Wow.”

I almost chuckled at his awed expression, but any hint of humor died the second he hooked his fingers under the elastic band and gripped my shaft in a tight hold.

“Jesus…”

“No, it’s just me,” he quipped in a sultry tone that sent tingles down my spine. Before I could make a tasteless joke about holy hand jobs, he squeezed me at the base and fondled my balls. I was panting, and he was talking. Shit, what was he saying? “I might never get this chance again, and I can’t pass it up. If you want me to stop, let me know. If not…”


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