Page 374 of Faking the Goal

Her lips twitch. "Who said I was proposing anything?"

"Trouble, you're standing in front of me wearing a towel the size of a napkin and deliberately showing me your thigh."

She gasps—playing offended—but her thighs press together instinctively, betraying her. I can smell her, fuck, that heady sweetness of her arousal already soaking through.

"Maybe you're imagining things."

"Yeah?" I snake my right arm around her waist and pull her flush against me, burying my face against the side of her neck. Her skin is still warm from the shower, and I breathe her in before grazing my teeth softly along that elegant curve that always drives me fucking insane.

Her breath catches, but the smugness somehow stays in her voice. "You know, the doctor did say no strenuous activity."

I smirk against her neck, nipping at her pulse point. "He said no strenuous activity involving my injured arm. Good thing I've got another one."

Before she can come up with another smart-ass response, I tighten my right arm around her and lift her onto the bathroom counter. Her squeal is fucking music to my ears, and immediately grabbing my shoulders as I settle her safely against the sink, careful to keep my bandaged left arm from doing any of the work.

Her legs falling open naturally, inviting me in.

I step between her thighs, my cock pressing hard against the front of her pussy, barely separated by the thin fucking towel she's wearing. I can feel the heat of her through the fabric, her slickness already soaking into my jeans. Fuck, she's dripping for me, and it's all I can do not to tear that towel off and bury myself in her right fucking now.

"You're so fucking wet," I murmur, grinding against her slowly, letting her feel every inch of me.

She arches her back, grinding shamelessly against me, her hips moving in tight little circles that make me see stars. Her hands slide down to my belt loops, tugging me closer until there's no space left between us.

"You gonna do something about it, or just stand there looking pretty?" she teases, her voice breathy and desperate.

I laugh before crashing my mouth onto hers. The kiss is anything but gentle. It's all teeth and tongue, fucking filthy and perfect. She tastes like minty toothpaste and pure fucking lust, and I can't get enough.

Her towel slips, falling to her hips, and I take the chance to rip it off completely, tossing it to the floor. She's naked now, her body laid out bare for me—her tits perky and perfect, nipples hard and begging for my mouth. Her skin is flushed pink, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and I can see the tiny birthmark just below her left tit that drives me fucking wild.

I don't hesitate. My lips latch onto her nipple, sucking hard, and she lets out a gasp, her fingers tangling in my hair. Her hips jerk forward, grinding against my cock, and I can feel her wetness soaking through my jeans.

I groan against her skin, my free hand sliding down her stomach, fingers tracing teasing circles just above where she wants them most.

"You're dripping," I murmur against her nipple, flicking it with my tongue before pulling back just enough to watch her squirm. "So fucking needy for me, aren't you?"

She whimpers, her hips bucking, trying to force my hand lower. "Please—"

I chuckle darkly, dragging my fingers through her slick folds, just barely grazing her clit. "Please what, Trouble? You want my fingers? My mouth? My cock?" I circle her entrance, not pushing in, just teasing. "Or do you want me to make you beg first?"

Her nails dig into my shoulders, her breath coming in sharp gasps. "Fuck you."

"Mm, soon." I finally slide two fingers inside her, slow and deliberate, curling them just right. She clenches around me instantly, her back arching off the counter. "Fuck, you're tight. You've been thinking about this all day, haven't you?"

She doesn't answer, just moans as I pump my fingers in and out, my thumb pressing down on her clit in tight, relentless circles. Her hips roll with every movement, chasing the friction, her body trembling.

"That's it," I growl, nipping at her collarbone. "Ride my hand. Show me how bad you want it."

She does—her thighs shaking, her breath coming in ragged little gasps. I can feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around my fingers, but I pull back just before she tips over the edge.

"Nuh-uh," I tsk, withdrawing my hand completely. She whines, her body jerking forward like she can still chase the pleasure. "Not yet."

Her eyes snap open, glazed with lust and frustration, locking onto mine. The glare she shoots me is pure, delicious fury.

"You asshole," she pants, her chest heaving. "You know I was—"

"Close?" I finish for her, licking my fingers clean with slow, deliberate strokes. Her taste explodes on my tongue—sweet, musky, her—and her pupils dilate so wide her irises are just thin rings of stormy gray. "Yeah, I know."

She swallows hard, her throat working. "Then why—"