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I place my hand where her lips were and relish the feeling while simultaneously kicking my own ass for sending her away. I was hoping to get to spend some time with her tonight, but the smile on her face at the thought of a weekend with her friend was worth it.
Once the kitchen is cleaned, and the leftovers are put away, I turn off the light and make my way to my room. As soon as I step inside, I can smell her, and my eyes scan the room. That’s when I see it—the small, folded piece of paper on my pillow. My feet carry me as fast as they can to the paper as I sit down on my bed and open it.
Princess Joey antagonized over which jersey to wear. She wanted to support her brother and the most handsome football player in the land. In the end, Princess Joey wore her brother’s number on her back but supported both on her cheek. You see, Princess Joey has all these feelings that she’s not sure she should be feeling about the handsome football player. Just being around him makes her heart race and her palms sweaty. She’s worried that even though the handsome football player wanted her to wear his jersey, he might not feel the same way.
To be continued…
Folding the letter, I slip it into the nightstand and stand from the bed. I make my way to the hallway and listen for Caleb. The house is quiet, so I slip quietly into Joey’s room. She’s still on the phone talking softly with, I assume, Taylor.
She gasps when she sees me. “Hey, Tay, I need to call you right back. Yeah, everything is fine. I just have to pee. I’ll call you back,” she says, ending the call.
It takes four long strides for me to get to her. She’s lying back on her mound of pillows, her hair spread out, and at this moment, I need her. Leaning in close, I place my hand against her cheek as our eyes lock. “I feel it, Joey. I feel it deep in my soul. I want you. I want whatever you’re willing to give me, beautiful.” And with that, I press my lips to hers.
She opens for me, allowing me to taste her. She takes as much as I give as our tongues caress one another. She emits a moan from deep within the back of her throat that has my cock rock-hard. I want nothing more than to climb into this bed with her and devour every inch of her.
Every. Inch.
Instead, I slow the kiss, resting my forehead against hers. “To be continued,” I whisper, kissing her one more time before standing to my full height and walking out of her room. My breathing is ragged, as if I’ve just run a full practice of sprints. I want to hold her, and kiss her and explore her body, but there’s time for that. I need to let tonight’s revelation sink in. I need to let her process that I want her.
I want all of her.
CHAPTER
TEN
Joey
I’ve been tossing and turning for hours—hours—replaying that kiss. My sheets are tangled around my legs. My body hums with an awareness I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. I can still feel the press of his lips against mine, the soft caress of his tongue.
It’s maddening.
I want more.
I’ve been telling myself for days to stay away, but when push comes to shove, I don’t. Ican’t. I’m drawn to him in a way I’ve never experienced and have reached an irrefutable conclusion. Even as I wrote those words, I’d fought it up until the last second, but as pen pressed to paper, the story started to flow. That’s when I accepted what I was no longer able to deny.
I want him.
But I also can’t ignore the Gisele Sorenson tabloid claims I saw. It’s something I’m going to need to find out about before anything else can happen with Brock.
The clock reads just after two. I’ve tried some of my go-to bedtime rituals like reading and writing in a journal. I snuggled my cat, only to have her slip from my room after a few minutes,most likely seeking out my brother. In the last hour, I’ve been desperate enough to actually consider using my brother’s weight room.
Okay, I’m notthatdesperate.
Yet.
There’s only one thing left to try, short of leaving to buy Melatonin or raiding my brother’s liquor cabinet.
Orgasms.
I’ll admit, my lack of receiving—other than by way of a battery-operated toy hidden in my nightstand—in many months doesn’t exactly make me an expert, but it’s a tried-and-true remedy, right? Everyone always brags about them. They help everything from your complexion to your mood, so why not your sleep pattern too?
Trying to work up the nerve to actually dothat, I slip from my bed and peek down the hall. Caleb’s door is closed, which means Hermione may have had to settle for the couch, but Brock’s is slightly ajar. Images of seeing him standing in my doorway earlier, the desire written clearly on his handsome face, is enough to cause my core to flood with desire.
I close my door, making sure it’s latched and locked, before slipping beneath the covers. When I shut my eyes, it’s his face I see. It’s his lips I feel. The touch may not be his, but he’s all I picture as my hand slips beneath the blankets and into the waistband of my panties. My body is already soaked, my panties useless, as I run my fingers over my swollen clit.
A gasp spills from my lips as I press two fingers into my body. I picture Brock’s face, imagining it’s his hands, his fingers touching me. My nipples tingle against my shirt as my other hand moves up to cup my breasts. I can already feel myself rocketing toward release. My fingers move swiftly, thrusting in and out, as my hips gyrate. One pinch to an oversensitive nipple and the brush of my palm against my clit has me coming.
Hard.
