When she was done in the kitchen and went into the bedroom, he thought about following her, but the announcer started talking about the season Mitchell was having, and Will turned his attention back to the television. He was happy as hell for his friend, but the need to be back with his team was a constant, nagging ache that never quite went away.
Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he realized Kristen was back. He was about to make a smart-ass comment about how much he’d missed her commentary, but when he turned to look at her, his brain stopped giving him any signals except instant lust.
The Harriers red and white home jersey hung halfway down her thighs, but when she lifted her arms to show off the emblem in the center, the hem lifted almost enough so he could see if she was wearing panties under it.
It didn’t matter if she was because she wouldn’t be for long.
“My friends couldn’t believe I didn’t have my boyfriend’s jersey, so they ordered me one,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning up as he pushed himself to his feet.
Boyfriend. It didn’t matter that it had started as a lie they told the rest of the world. That’s exactly who he was. And his girl was wearing his jersey.
“Do you like it?” she asked, and just as he was about to reach her, she turned around so he could see the back.
LECROIX.
Seeing his name in big block letters across her back triggered something deep inside of him—something raw and primal—and he gathered the fabric below his number in his fist and pulled her backward until her body hit his.
When her ass ground against his erection through the fly of his jeans—and no, she wasn’t wearing anything under the jersey—they both moaned, and he gathered her hair in his fist, lifting it off the letters.
“I guess youdolike it,” she said in that low, husky voice that forced him to undo his jeans just to relieve some of the pressure. “Do you get off on me wearing your number?”
He got off on her wearing hisname, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about how hard that realization hit him. And he wasn’t sure how she’d feel about that. “I get off onyou. Everything about you turns me on. Your laugh. The way you give your hair a little twist when you pull it free of your collar. And yes, I get off on seeing you in my jersey.”
“I don’t want to distract you from your game,” she said in a far-too-innocent voice, considering she’d taken his free hand and was guiding it under the hem of the jersey, eliminating any doubt she wasn’t wearing underwear.
He tightened his other hand in her hair and tilted her head to the side so he could kiss her neck. “What game?”
When he dipped his hand between her thighs and she made a low groaning sound in her throat, he was surprised his knees didn’t buckle. She was wet already, and he stroked her until she whimpered and tried to pull away.
“You started it,” he whispered against her ear. “I thinkyouget off on wearing my jersey, too.”
“The way you looked at me…” The words trailed off into a moan as he pressed his fingertips over her clit.
Then he withdrew his hand and turned her around to face the couch before pressing down on her back to bend her over. She braced her hands on the arm of the couch, and he ran his hands down the back of the jersey, allowing himself a few seconds to savor that rush of possessiveness, before he got down on his knees behind her.
He heard her gasp when he closed his mouth over her pussy, and he sucked hard on her clit before circling his tongue around it. Alternating between licking and sucking, he didn’t let up until her skin was hot under his touch and her legs were trembling.
Then he brought his hand into it, pressing his thumb deep into her until she said his name in a pleading tone that almost sent him over the edge. He withdrew his thumb so he could circle her clit with it, his tongue dipping inside of her until he felt her muscles trembling and she made that sound that always rocked his world.
He curled his free arm around her thighs, holding her while his thumb circled her clit so she wouldn’t fall while the orgasm racked her body. And when it had passed, he ran his hand over the cheek of her ass and gave her a moment to catch her breath.
“Jesus, Will,” she muttered against the battered leather before pushing herself upright.
When she turned in his arms, her flushed face turning up to face him, Will’s dick throbbed so badly, he was afraid he was going to embarrass himself. “I don’t have a condom, so let’s take this to the bedroom.”
She frowned and pulled him to the front of the couch. “We’re supposed to be watching the game.”
Will had forgotten there evenwasa game the second he’d laid eyes on her, and he hoped this wasn’t some kind of twisted revenge plot she’d come up with to punish him for having hockey on her television. Sitting through a game in his current condition could be harmful to his health.
But then she yanked his open jeans down, taking his boxer briefs with them, and gave him a little shove. Since his pants were around his knees, he didn’t have a lot of choice but to fall onto the couch cushion.
It only took her a few seconds to pull the clothes off of his legs and toss them aside. Then she bent over and ran her hands up his thighs. His knees spread wider without any conscious thought on his part, and she settled between them.
“Now you can watch the game,” she teased.
Yet he wasn’t watching anything but Kristen as she wrapped her hand around his dick and stroked the length with a firm grip. Her tongue flicked over her bottom lip, and he stared at her mouth as she lowered it so excruciatingly slowly that he felt himself straining upward to meet her.
He closed his eyes as her lips surrounded him, and as she took in his length, he knew there wasn’t an algebraic equation ever written that could distract him from the wet heat of her mouth. Savoring the moment and making it last was out of the question.
