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Before I can move off the grass, his lips tilt into that cocky—I’m Jameson, and I’m about to get my way—smirk, anchoring me in place.
My heart is practically jumping behind my ribs that are thankfully caging it in. It’s a sensation I haven’t felt in years, and I’ll be damned if I ever go without it again.
For the first time since college, all of the tension slides off of him. His rigid exterior just melts away, and it’s like I’m looking at the boy that spilled my coffee in the quad.
I lift my hand, pressing it firmly in the center of his chest.
“What are you doing?” He questions, knitting his brows together.
“Seeing if your heart is beating as fast as mine.”
He grabs my wrist, “My heart has only ever beat like that for you.”
I press my forehead against his, moving my hand from his chest to his dark hair, brushing it through his new crew cut.
He doesn’t pull his eyes away from mine, “I love you.”
I can’t help but snicker, “You just jumping straight to the good stuff?”
He shrugs, “I saw a hole, had to sneak it in.”
I yank him by the shirt, his lips within an inch of mine, “Spoken like a true quarterback.”
He kisses me, causing full-on goosebumps to envelope my spine. I had almost forgotten how perfect this was.
Perfect lips that fit perfectly against mine.
His arms snake around me, lifting me onto his lap to straddle him, and I bend to keep our lips connected. His hands are placed firmly on my ass, and the way he squeezes makes me shamelessly start to ride him. Fully clothed.
He growls, his dick growing hard against the zipper of his dress slacks. My hands find the hem of his untucked dress shirt and follow around to the center to start unbuttoning.
He pulls back a little, placing his hands over mine, “You sure you wanna do this here? Shouldn’t we go get Ellie?” He tries to wiggle from beneath me, “Oh my God, who has Ellie? I was supposed to pick her up!”
I place both hands on his cheeks forcing him to look at me, “Jameson, stop. Ellie is fine. Shut up and finish what you started.”
A wicked grin spreads as he greedily takes my lips back. Takes his lips back.
My hands rapidly undo the buttons of his dress shirt, sliding it back off his shoulders. As my fingers brush down his shoulder blades, he moans against my lips.
It’s like every move I make, he anticipates. Like no time has passed at all—our bodies just remember—like riding a bicycle. With a deep growl, he takes control, breaking our kiss just long enough to pull my shirt over my head.
My hands find his thick, tattooed arms. I rip away from his mouth, trailing my lips down his neck and onto his shoulder. His breathing becomes irregular, and I decide to take what’s mine, “Move,” I demand, “Lay back.”
He cocks his brow, following my orders.
I glide my fingers down his chest, between his pecs and more tattoos I’ve never seen, stopping right at the waist of his pants. I can feel his breathing stop when I place my lips right above the button of his pants while using my hands to quickly undo it. Next, I pull the zipper down, leaving nothing between us but the fabric of his boxers.
I drag my knuckles over his length, glancing back up at him. His eyes solely trained on me. I hook my hands around the waist of his briefs, pulling them down in one swift motion. Slowly I start working him with my hand, raking my tongue over the tip.
“Fuuuck,” he brings his fist up to his mouth in an attempt to muffle himself.
I squeeze a little bit harder, taking him to the back of my throat. His hand grazes the inside of my thigh, making me wet with anticipation.
“Come here,” he demands, “I need to feel you.”
I do as I’m told, immediately turning to him. He tugs my jeans off, pushing his fingers into me, one at a time.
Then, fast, like a damn whirlwind, he pushes between my thighs, hovering at my entrance. He looks down into my eyes one last time before pushing in. I grip the back of his bicep tightly, begging him for more.
