“You’re the best!” he calls around a mouthful of chocolate.
“You owe me, asshole!”
Laughing and stumbling like drunks, we cut out the side entrance to the student parking.
“Didn’t you ride with Andrea?” I ask.
His hand slides into the back pocket of my jeans. It’s a brand dialing up the heat beneath my skin.
“Yeah, but plans changed when this cute guy showed up.”
“Oh, so you’ll ditch everyone for a cute guy, huh?”
Remy switches to my front pocket, leaning into my neck as he murmurs, “Not just any cute guy.Mycute guy, who if I remember correctly promised me something under the bleachers.”
This flirt has me swooning like a Victorian woman.
“But the bleachers are that way,” I protest.
He ignores me and frees my car keys from the tight denim, clicking the fob twice. The taillights of my used Ford glow red. (Mom insisted on the damn boat of a vehicle over the Mustang I begged for because she didn’t want me ending up as ‘ground meat’ in an accident. Her words, not mine.)
Remy climbs into the driver's seat.
“Get in, Cute Guy.”
I snort, “It’s my car, idiot,” and rush to the passenger side. The truck groans as it rumbles to life and aims for the practice field shrouded in darkness behind the stands. The cab bounces as Remy parks beneath the metal labyrinth.
Then he’s hopping out again.
“What are you—”
I’m barely out of the vehicle when he slams into me. One hand fists my hair, yanking my head back while the other possessively cradles my jaw. I gasp as his mouth collides with mine in a desperate kiss.
He tastes like sweat and chocolate and heaven.
“Fuck, I’ve been dying to do that since I saw you,” Remy breathes against my lips, nipping and licking his way to my ear. I shiver, my fingertips digging into his biceps.
“What else?" I pant as his tongue plays with my hoop earring.
A little growl releases from his throat. He rips open the rear passenger door, grasps my waist and hauls me in with him. We’re a tangled, breathless mess, bumbling in the limited space of the backseat. Eventually, I end up straddling him where he reclines in the center seat with his legs spread.
Hooded hazel eyes scan me from my disheveled hair, down my throat, over my heaving chest, to the sliver of space between us.Splayed hands smooth up my thighs.
“I lied,” he whispers, his gaze slowly dragging back up my body. “You’re not cute.”
My stomach twists—
He yanks me flush against the rigid evidence of his arousal. A strangled whimper leaves me as his teeth skim my Adam's apple.
“You’re irresistible.” An open mouthed kiss. “Unreasonably sexy.” A light suck on my pulse. “Fucking gorgeous.”
Each husky word has my cock throbbing against the confines of my jeans. But I can’t voice what I need. What I want. I rock against him, desperate for him to read what my body is demanding as I take his mouth again.
Touch me, touch me, touch me.
One hand glides up my spine and grips the back of my neck, the other tracing the waistband of my jeans beneath my hoodie. Rather than moving toward my fly, he wanders around my hip… to my lower back.
Goosebumps erupt across my skin in sheets. Anticipation sends my nervous system into overdrive. Late night fantasies rush to the surface. Things I’ve only recently started to explore on my own. Does he want them too?
