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Sam rolls his hips again. “We should get in my car,” he counters.
It’s an enticing offer, and I’m so damn tempted. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to gain control over my raging libido. We’re supposed to be bowling, not banging. It’s a struggle to remind myself of my three-date rule when he’s this close.
Mustering all my resolve, I step out of his hold. I slide my hands over his corded arms as I go until our fingers are our only point of contact. “Come on, horndog. Bowling first. Then we’ll see where the night takes us.” I wink and tug him toward the entry.
He releases one of my hands. “Fine, just give me a sec,” he grumbles then reaches to rearrange his package.
I can’t take my eyes off his hand as he repositions his boner.I gave him that. And I didn’t even have to touch it!My smile is so wide it hurts my cheeks.
I could have swallowedmy tongue at the sight of her waiting outside in that little black top and red tartan skirt showing a sliver of her creamy stomach. My dick thought all his Christmases had come at once.
I’ve had to adjust my junk every damn time she’s bent over to roll the ball down the lane. She’s not flashing the whole place or anything, since she’s got black tights covering her legs and hiding all the good stuff under that skirt. But damn, the visual of bending her over my couch in nothing but that skirt and those chunky boots . . .
Hannah strides back to where I’m sitting behind the dingy scoreboard. “Did you get that?” she asks when she notices I haven’t entered her most recent tally.
I blink at her. “Nope. I was distracted by the view.”
Her grin is breathtaking as she leans in and plants a kiss on my jaw. “I’ve been a bit distracted myself,” she croons in my ear, then—Lord, save my soul—she nips the lobe.
“Hannah,” I growl, tugging her down into my lap, unable to go on without touching her again. I shift my hips, letting her feel exactly how uncomfortable this evening is for me. She wiggles, and I have to squeeze her thighs to keep her still. “I’m going to kiss you now, and you’re going to let me,” I tell her before slamming my mouth onto hers.
It’s not gentle or soft. I devour her lips, sliding my tongue along the seam, forcing her to open for me. My fingers dig into her hips when she moans into the kiss, her tongue tangling with mine. I break away, my hard-on now throbbing painfully beneath her pert little ass.
“If you’re done torturing me,” I hiss into her mouth, “I think it’s time to leave.”
Her answering nod is the only confirmation I need. I stand and Hannah’s lithe form slides down my front. Looping my hands around her waist, I bend to kiss her again. She melts into me, and damn, if that doesn’t feel good—the power I have over her body.
“My place or yours?” I ask.
“Mine’s closer,” she breathes.
Suits me fine. I take her hand and lead her to the exit, following her when we reach the street and she tugs me along the sidewalk.
“Three blocks this way,” she says, speeding up once we’re past a group of people lingering in front of the bowling alley.
My fingers flex around her hand, loving her impatience as she curses under her breath at the ‘Do Not Walk’ symbol we’re stopped at. Her booted foot taps rapidly against the pavement, then she’s off, yanking me along behind her the second we’re able to safely cross.
Not ten minutes later, we arrive at her apartment building. I don’t even have time to take in the façade as Hannah ushers us through the doors and into the foyer.
“Evening, Steve.” She waves to an elderly gentleman sitting in a lounge reading a newspaper, a small fluffy dog sitting in his lap, as we wait for the elevator. The dog barks at her, wiggling its tail in excitement, and she smiles impossibly wide. “Hey, Ginger,” she croons, and the dog yaps back again.
Steve eyes me over the top of his newspaper. “Evening, Miss Archer,” he says then adds, “and friend.”
I dip my chin. “Good evening, sir.”
“Eyes off, Steve,” Hannah chastises, and the way he’s looking at me suddenly makes sense.
The elevator doors slide open, and Steve’s chuckle follows behind us as we step inside. The second they close, I have Hannah pinned, my mouth on the sweet skin of her throat. Her fingers tangle in my hair, but we arrive on her floor before I can do anything more.
I grip her hips from behind, rolling mine into her ass as she jams her key in the lock and throws the door to her apartment open. She spins in my arms when we step over the threshold, backing me against the wall then yanking me to her by my collar to kiss the shit out of me.
Her fingers fumble with the buttons of my shirt until she lets out a frustrated little growl and tugs at either side, sending buttons flying. I scoop her up by her thighs, reversing our position as I pin her with my hips, and her legs curl around my waist.
I’m desperate to be inside her, but I need to see her first. My hands slide under the hem of her top, pushing it past her ribs and above her breasts. Our mouths part only long enough for me to pull it over her head and discard it on the floor.
Hannah’s hands latch onto the buckle of my belt, unfastening it then my jeans. Her little hand skates across my happy trail under the band of my boxer briefs until she’s gripping my cock in her warm palm. My hips surge forward, and my neck strains at the sensation that shoots down my spine.
“Bedroom,” I grunt into her mouth with another thrust of my hips.
