Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“You do?” I ask the question not because I don’t believe him, but because his voice right now is vibrating in my bones. I want to feel that buzz again.
“I really do. And I think I’ve got a good idea on how to start.” He takes a beat. “May I?”
It’s the may I that does me in.
13
TWO-WAY STREET
Hollis
She’s never had a great kiss?
That makes me seriously sad. I can’t think about the fans right now, or the rivalry between our two teams. I can’t think about anything but fixing that problem ASAP.
Though, admittedly, there’s one other issue on my mind. My teammate. I’m not the kind of guy who’d go after his friend’s girl. But Briar’s not Rhys’s ex or his girlfriend. She’s simply his crush.
That’s fine, right? Yes, that’s fine. Of course that’s fine.
Besides, I’ve known Rhys for years. We played against each other a lot in college. We’ve partied together in the pros. The two of us don’t have to call dibs on girls we both like.
For one simple reason—we’re excellent at sharing.
But…if you’re going to share you kind of need to be in the same place at the same time. And, well, he’s not here and I fucking am.
Time to shove Rhys out of my mind as I wait for Briar’s answer to the kiss question. When she tilts her head and gives me a playful, teasing smile, saying, “Yes. You may,” I seize the chance.
I slide across the seat in the tub, moving next to her in the hot water, the bubbles caressing the swells of her breasts, the water licking her pale, creamy skin.
She bites the corner of her lips. Lifts her chin. Waits for me to make the first move. She hasn’t been kissed well in a long time, she said. But also, maybe ever.
That’s about to change.
And one of the best parts of kissing is the anticipation. The moment before. The prelude.
I drink in the view of her pretty face. The spray of freckles across the bridge of her straight nose, her rosy cheeks, her sky-blue eyes. She’s fresh-faced, a California sunshine girl, with blonde hair full of golden streaks, piled high on her head in one of those magnificently messy buns that make no sense to most men.
Loose tendrils frame her face, sticking to her jawline and her cheek. I lift my right hand. Brush a wet curl away from her skin, tucking it over her ear. She shivers slightly.
My chest swells. She gives a tentative smile but a nervous one too.
I get that. After what she’s shared—something intensely personal—nerves are valid. I do my best to quell them with touch.
“What if we start with nice and slow? You tell me if you like it like that.”
Her breath seems to coast across her lips, chased by a hint of laughter, and excitement too. “Try me.”
I run my thumb along her jawline down to her chin. Then up and over her lower lip. Her breath hitches. Her eyes flash with expectation. And my bones vibrate with a longing so deep, it’s like I can barely remember a time when I didn’t want to kiss Briar. The desire to touch her grips me everywhere, but so does a burst of nerves.
And since I’m the guy who talked about communicating, I do a little of my own with a “Hey.”
“What is it?” She sounds wary.
I lick my lips. “I’m nervous too,” I admit.
Her smile is full of relief. “Yeah? Why?”
“Because all that stuff I said about chemistry? A two-way street?”
“Yes?”
It’s like she’s on the edge of her seat, waiting for my answer. So I give her a full dose of patent honesty. It’s a bare confession: “I really fucking hope I’m not the only one who wants this so badly.”
Her arms rope around my neck, her fingers twisting in my hair. “You’re not alone then.”
“Good. That’s so damn good.”
I dip my face to hers without a rush in the world, without a worry on my mind, with just this deep, powerful need to kiss the woman I’m unexpectedly sharing a hot tub and a night with.
I coast my lips over hers, tasting chlorine, white wine, and…a wish.
I can taste her vulnerability and hope too. The hope for a kiss that makes her knees weak. Her chest tingle. Her body melt.
I want to make this so damn good for her. I use my best skills. My ears. My mind. My focus. I pay attention to everything she does. To the soft murmurs when I kiss her slowly and languidly. To the faint sighs as I tug on her bottom lip. To the curl of her hands tighter and tighter around my neck as I kiss the corner of her mouth. Then, to the way she leans her head back, inviting more kisses.
I kiss and I listen.
I kiss and I learn. In a few short minutes I have a very good idea how Briar likes to be kissed.