Page 370 of Ruthless Court

He works me through it, then starts again, slower, deeper, and the second one builds even faster, stealing my breath completely.

When I can think again we’re grinding against each other, his hardness pressed against my hip through his pants, the friction perfect and maddening.

I slide my hand down the front of his shorts and wrap my fingers around him.

He’s thick and hot and so hard it makes my stomach flip.

“I want to make you feel good too,” I whisper. “Tell me what to do.”

Kane’s voice is pure gravel.

“Exactly what you’re doing, baby.”

I stroke him the way he moves against me, learning the pressure that makes his breath stutter.

We kiss like we’re starving, messy and open-mouthed, while our hands keep working each other.

He comes first with a low groan against my lips, spilling over my fingers.

I follow again just from the sound of him and the way his hand never stops moving on me.

For a long time we just breathe.

Kane eventually climbs out of bed, cleans us both up with a warm washcloth, and comes back without a word.

He pulls me against his chest, one arm heavy around my waist, and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head.

I fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart, still wearing my glasses and my ridiculous Stranger Things shirt, completely ruined for anyone who isn’t him.

So much for the pillow wall I think, as I settle into his arms and fall asleep.

Nineteen

KANE

I make it through exactly four minutes of practice before Noah starts.

“Haverhill has a girlfriend.”

I keep dribbling.

“I do not.”

Eli slides into defensive position in front of me.

“Sleepover says otherwise.”

“Movie night.”

“With an overnight bag.”

“She didn’t want to sleep in a dorm room with fifteen people.”

Noah jogs past us.

“So she slept in your bed?”

I fire the ball at his chest.