She turns her head to look over at the boys, making the faint yellow bruising still on her neck visible. I barely hold back a predatory smile.
I fucking did that. Though right now you’d never be able to tell that I would have fucked her against the wall if Mom hadn’t burst in. So why can’t I talk to her now? Why can’t I tell her I’m sorry for snapping at her over Molly? Why can’t I walk up to her, cup her face with both hands and move in for round two of the epic kissing?
“Would you mind holding the fort while I go drop my bag out back? I’ll be just a sec.”
I nod and watch her walk away from me, her hips swaying with each step. My dick remembers what it’s like to be nestled between her thighs, and if she’d let me, I’d love to bury it between her ass cheeks too.
Fuck.
I shift my weight, but it does little to tame the semi sprouting in my pants.
In the reading area behind me, my teammates make crashing sound effects. They’re howling with laughter at my utter bombing with Vannah. Did she say I could call her Vannah out of politeness? I’ll have to check. It feels weird, she’s Savannah to me.
I turn back to my team, and they’re all staring at me expectantly. If they think I’m going to have some kind of therapy session with them about Savannah, they have another think coming.
One thing’s for sure, though. I’m going to take a look at the work schedule as soon as these assholes are gone for the night.
CHAPTER15
Savannah
Inever knew a bookstore could be so busy. I thought physical books were a dying industry, but I’ll be damned if I haven’t been rushed off my feet every day this week. I know it’s the week before Christmas and all, but my hands and feet all have blisters, and my blisters even have blisters.
I’m not sure if it was Frieda’s doing, or if Justin tinkered with the schedule, but we’ve been on the same shifts a lot. And on the days we weren’t working the same shift, he’s either here before I arrive, or after I’m scheduled to leave.
While it was probably Frieda playing matchmaker, I’m hoping it was Justin. There’s a tension brewing between us that I’m not sure I can fight for much longer. We still haven’t talked, not about our kiss, about Molly, or about the fact I want his dick between my legs for real. Sans clothing.
It’s been weeks.
Much to Athena’s amusement I burned out the motor in my favorite vibrator. It just gave up on me. It said, “Girl, stop trying to pretend I’m Justin’s Anaconda. Give it up.” Then it died.
Athena’s tried to set me up with a few of her single guy friends over the past few weeks but I keep saying no which seems to only piss her off more.
I told her what went down between Justin and me over Thanksgiving. All the cautions in the world from her about dating a hockey player don’t make a damn bit of difference. My pussy has locked onto Justin Ass like a monster-dick-seeking missile.
There’s no take-backs, no abort button.
The pussy has been deployed.
It doesn’t matter that she says hockey players suck. It doesn’t matter that he cheated on my bestie a few years ago. It doesn’t matter. Nothing fucking matters except this deep ache driving me toward him.
My nipples tingle every damn time I see him, and when I watch his slender fingers as he’s stacking books on shelves I imagine them rolling and flicking my nipples. And my clit.
I bet I couldn’t even fit half his cock in my mouth if I tried. It’d be like trying to cram a Coke can into my mouth, but I wanna try.
I need a new vibrator.
Today’s the last time I’m going to see him before I head home for the holidays. I know from our frustratingly polite conversation that he’s going away with his family for a while before the team’s upcoming trip to Ireland for some exhibition games. They have a couple weeks off from games, and then on New Year’s Day they fly over to Europe.
“I have something for you.”
I scream like there’s a serial killer coming at me with a knife and spin to face Justin, who somehow crept up on me in the space opera aisle. My heart is pounding, partly thanks to the adrenaline coursing through my body, and partly because he’s so close.
It’s like there’s lightning coming off his body, and my skin is screaming for it to fry me.
My crotch wants to party right here in the bookstore.
“F-for me?”
