AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Exhaling a heavy breath, I stroked his thigh and fought the urge to press a kiss to his cut.
“For an entirely different reason,” he croaked out.
And that’s when I noticed what I was doing—what I had been doing for the last minute or so. I was sitting on my knees between his legs, stroking his inner thigh, trying to soothe his ache away. My eyes flicked to the danger zone and my mouth ran dry.
So that’s why people referred to it as pitching a tent. I wasn’t sure that statement applied to this particular breed of teenage boy because Johnny wasn’t just pitching a tent in those jocks—he was pitching a marquee.
Releasing a low groan, he pushed my hand away and moved to close his thighs, but I stopped him.
I stopped him.
“No,” I mumbled, voice breathy and soft.
I could feel the heat of his stare on my face.
He moved to close his legs again and I shook my head.
His eyes were open again, his pupils were dark and dilated.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, biting down on his swollen bottom lip.
I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know what I was thinking.
I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe.
I was losing my mind right here on my knees in the middle of a changing room in Dublin. And it was all his fault.
A temporary slip in sanity caused me to lean forward a press a kiss to his thigh.
The sound that tore from Johnny’s chest was a pained, guttural groan.
“Shannon, please—”
I kissed him again.
“Fuck,” he grunted, legs shaking now. “I can’t…”
The third time I kissed him, he fisted my hair and pulled my face to his.
“Shannon,” Johnny groaned, sounding both pained and breathless, as he gently pressed his forehead to mine. “We can’t—”
I silenced whatever he was about to say by putting my lips on his.
And just like before, he turned to stone.
“I’m sorry,” I strangled out, pulling back. “I did it again.”
“It’s okay,” he told me, breathing hard just like before.
“No, no, no,” I strangled out as I scrambled to my feet and lunged for the door. “You’re injured! You’re waiting to go to the hospital for Christ’s sake, and I just—oh god! I am so sorry.”
“Shannon, wait,” Johnny called out as he scrambled for his crutch. “Wait!”
I didn’t wait. Instead, I did what I should have done earlier. I hightailed it away from Johnny Kavanagh.
Hurrying over to the door, I yanked it open. It opened about four inches before slamming shut again—the palm pressed against it the reason, no doubt.
“Wait,” he commanded, standing so close to me that I could feel his chest rising and falling against my neck.
