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“What if I told you I wanted to pull you to me right now and murder those lips of yours?”
“I would say that,” she swallows, her chest rising and falling, “sounds painful and like a bad idea.”
I loosen my grip. “Message recei—”
“But,” she sputters nervously, “you should totally do it.”
In a flash, she dumps her plate on the mat and straddles me. I’m already in motion, rising up and thrusting my fingers in her hair right before our mouths crash together. It’s more than a kiss; it’s recognition of the fuse we lit the second we met and the fire we’ve spread up until this point of explosion. Her kiss as eager as mine, I go deep, sweeping my tongue into her tiny mouth, the sweet taste of soda fresh on her tongue as she grinds on my lap. It’s instant, our rhythm, like we’ve been practicing for months for the big show. I devour her, cradling her head, my hands in a place where I know she feels safe. It’s incredible kissing her, being this close, after wanting her for what seems like an eternity but has only been a matter of weeks. When we pull away catching our breath, we share a smile before she speaks.
“So, this is an ass thing?”
“I told you, it was your legs first.”
Harper
Lance grins at me from where he sits beneath me, his hands still tangling in my hair. I’m drunk on his kiss, the situation surreal. It’s his words that slap me back into reality. “It was your legs first.”
I hide the piece of me hurt by his comment and my offense. He doesn’t know or understand why this would irk me. He doesn’t see me the way I view myself. Just once I wish my body wasn’t the physical attribute that draws a man in, especially this man.
“You’ve got to admit,” he says hoarsely. “I’m not the only one guilty of that.”
“No, you’re not.” It’s the truth. I’ve been just as attracted from afar as he has. It sure as hell wasn’t his personality that drew me to him initially.
He’ll be the perfect man to experiment with. And maybe that’s what he should be for me, an experiment with my newly revived sexuality. Because since he stepped into the gym with me, the part of me I’ve kept dormant has sprung back to life. Watching him this summer, I’ve worked up quite a thirst, and suddenly he’s quenching it. His eyes never straying from mine, I can feel him hard beneath me, feel the heat emanating from his skin, from his bold touch. Most girls would have a condom strapped on him by now, and a part of me wants to be that
girl, but the other knows this experiment could go horribly wrong, not just for me but for us both.
He presses his forehead to mine, the bulge beneath me impossible to ignore. “Harper,” he huffs before leaning in to bite my neck. I grind on his dick fully aware I’m stoking the fire and hear the breath leave him. “We both know you’re not about to get naked, be kind.”
“Sorry, can’t help it.”
“Neither can I.”
“I like that I have this effect on you.”
He pulls back, his eyes seeking my permission as his hands gently explore. He trails them down my sides before he grips my ass in his palms, and I swear I hear him whimper before his lips again crush mine. Then we’re kissing again and it feels like flying. I know this high—it’s dangerous. This high is a liar that tells you that nothing is more important than chasing for more, but the importance lies in who is behind the kiss. I’m kissing Lance Prescott, one of Grand’s most eligible bachelors. His palms glide up my waist, his thumbs sliding along the underside of my breasts while I moan into his mouth. I’m in nothing but cotton sports shorts, my clit rubbing along the hard ridge in his thin mesh shorts. It’s the perfect friction. Gasping into his mouth, I pull away electrified and he studies me. I swivel my hips, spurring him on and his eyes flare.
“Jesus,” he groans thrusting up to meet my movement, and with that, my thighs begin to shake.
“Look at you…” I don’t have a second to react to his compliment before I’m on my back, his hands pinning me, grinding into me. “Can I make you come?”
Gazing up, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Lance is hovering over me looking at me like I’m the eighth wonder of the world. To him, this may be nothing unusual, to me, it’s everything. It’s like I’m being seen for the first time, center stage. It feels so spectacularly real.
“Are you…being honest?”
He draws his brows, his breaths more like grunts.
“What?”
“Look, I know, I mean I can tell you’re being careful, and you don’t want to hurt me…”
“Are we having that talk already? I want to Make. You. Come. Not start a conversation.”
“Right, sorry. Yes.”
“Yes, what?” He taunts in a slow grind. I’m soaked. With no shame, I meet his thrusts until he backs away, taunting me. “Yes, what? Harper?”
“Yes. Make me come.”
