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“She was touching you,” I mumble.
“What was that?” He leans closer, his breath fanning across my bare shoulder.
I sigh. “She. Was. Touching. You.”
“So?” He’s genuinely confused by why I was upset.
“I didn’t want her to.” I cross my arms again.
“Were you jealous?” he asks. I can’t quite tell if he’s teasing me or not.
“No.”
“It sounds like you were.”
“I wasn’t,” I argue. “Just watch the movie.”
He motions like he’s zipping his lips, his attention shifting back to the screen.
I’m not jealous. He’s destined for Evie.
I don’t date guys who aren’t part of Hollywood.
No, you just marry them.
What Garrett and I have is temporary. Short-term. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to give him up yet.
Lifting my arms, I reach them over my head, my hands tunneling into the hair at the back of Garrett’s neck.
“Kiss me,” I demand.
His mouth brushes mine once, twice, a third time, before his lips open, his tongue dipping in to tangle with mine. Shifting his hands to my thighs, he rubs along the tops as he deepens the kiss while his hands clutch the fabric of my pants.
I wiggle my hips, and he lifts his hands, releasing me to slide to the floor and spin to face him.
“Ames?”
His lips are swollen from my kisses, attention locked on me.
But I need more. Reaching up, I slide his belt open and move my fingers to the button and zipper.
“Whatcha doing?” he asks.
“You’ll see,” I tease.
I run a finger along the waistband of his boxers before I tug at his belt loops and drag his pants out of the way. His erection bumps against my hand as I work. Pulling him free of his boxers, I wrap my fingers around his length.
The breath hisses through his teeth, and his gaze is locked on me. With everything we’ve done, we haven’t done this yet. Why not? My thumb brushes against his crown, swirling the drop of pre-cum only to have it replaced with more.
I lean farther into the couch and lower my head slowly. With a shift of my hand, I lift him up as I descend to lick him from root to tip. His hands clench in the fabric of his pants, and I tug at them, pulling them off the abused cloth and placing them on my head. He catches on quickly and laces his fingers through my hair. The slight pain I feel as his fingers grip my hair while I shift my head creates a pulse in my core that has me clamping my thighs together.
One hand at the base of him, I open my lips to draw him in until he bumps the back of my throat. Swallowing around him, I breathe through my nose and work through my gag reflex to take him deeper.
“Fuck, Ames.” He throws his head back against the couch as his hips thrust shallowly against my mouth. The taste of him—clean male and something uniquely Garrett—has me squirming against the floor as my panties grow more and more damp.
I want to tell him how badly I want him. But instead of words, I rotate my hand, my cheeks hollowing out as I suck him deeper into my mouth.
“That feels so fucking unbelievably good,” he groans, his hands tugging at my hair.
