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“As I recall, you had to fight off my inebriated advances.” The memory makes me blush, even weeks later.
Garrett’s thumb traces the heat blooming in my cheeks. “Warmth fills the space. Can’t you feel it?”
“It’s very toasty,” I confirm.
“Would you like to get reacquainted with my bed? I’ll strip your clothes off myself this time.”
“Who am I to refuse an offer like that?” I trace the bumpy texture on the walls.
A low growl rumbles from him. My pulse skips before leaping into a sprint. I stride further into his apartment under the guise of needing to cool off, or maybe I’m just nosy.
“I hope you did some pelvic stretches on the field. You’re about to get a solid dicking.”
The floorboards creak seconds later. He prowls toward me in what I’m beginning to predict as a practiced move. That doesn’t make the pounce less thrilling.
A cool surface touches my back seconds before Garrett’s solid strength blankets my front. I mold to his warmth, a wall of muscle and orgasmic bliss. Our mouths crash together in a turbulent wave. Teeth clack and noses bump as we surrender to the frenzied need. His tongue slips along mine, a smooth glide to stir my arousal. I moan and open wider. He takes advantage, tilting his head to connect us deeper.
His taste mingles with mine to create a heady mix. Our combination is stronger than a tall shot of Everclear. I’m dizzy off us after a small sip.
I feel him seeking what I’m more than happy to give. A hand travels down my side to palm my ass. A determined push delivers friction between us. He’s hard against me, grinding his need into mine. My fingers drift along his covered chest, clutching the material at the center for leverage. If I’m succumbing to lust, he’s joining me. Then my stomach rumbles to act as an impenetrable twat swat.
Garrett wrenches away as if the sound offends him. “Shit, I need to feed you.”
My hand remains fisted in his shirt. “Maybe just a quick bite.”
“I’ll see what I have.” He begins to move backward but stops when the slack in my arm pulls taut.
“It seems we’re attached.”
“Would you like to join me in the kitchen?”
I laugh and drop my grip. “Can’t be too clingy.”
“Did you hear me complaining?” He’s the one to dive in for a parting peck.
Giddiness gives my sigh the consistency of syrup, stretching and spreading until he opens the freezer. He rummages in the contents while I lean against the archway. Plastic crinkles on his hunt for sustenance. The muffled grunt he expels doesn’t sound promising.
“I don’t have much,” he mumbles.
“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” My appetite can easily be persuaded to him instead.
His sheepish expression is endearing and would have me agreeing to eat whatever he finds. “How do you feel about onion rings?”
“Is that a serious question?” A growl from my belly eliminates any confusion.
He chuckles. “Okay, I’ll drop some in the air fryer. They’ll be done in seven to nine minutes.”
“That’s a tight window,” I muse.
“I’m sure we’ll find a way to occupy ourselves.”
Garrett doesn’t wait for me to list the options. Instead, he becomes a blur of productivity. Deft fingers press buttons faster than I can track. The bag of onion rings is ripped open with a brute force that my panties are intimately acquainted with. A hefty portion gets tossed in the metal basket. Oil is drizzled on top. My gaze devours every subtle movement. There’s something very sexy about a barefoot man preparing food. Or maybe it’s just him. Definitely the latter.
His eyes find mine already latched onto him. “Would you like something to drink?”
I’m rather parched after watching that mouthwatering display. “Sure.”
Garrett goes to the fridge and disappears from view. I hear the distinct pop of a can opening. While he handles that, I treat myself to a tour of the area that serves as his living room. It doesn’t occupy me for more than a minute.
