Page 95 of Against The Rules

His kiss is fire, turning me molten all over again, and he picks me up, placing me on the smooth stone bench in the walk-in shower. He doesn’t bother cleaning me up before he sets to work, licking and sucking me like his life depends on it.

He thinks I’m sexy.

“Come on my face, be a good girl.”

“Not yet,” I manage, panting, on the verge despite my resistance. “You can’t make me.”

“Fucking hell, Savannah,” Tyler says. He adds a finger to my pussy, thrusting two inside until he finds the spot that most men couldn’t find with a GPS tracker giving directions.

I grit my teeth, grinning at him.

“You can’t tell me that doesn’t feel good,” he says.

“Feels… so fucking good,” I tell him honestly.

When he glances up from between my legs, his eyes are crinkled at the corners like he’s smiling.

The next minute, he runs a finger against the cleft of my ass, then pushes it in deep.

“Oh, oh,” I say, totally breathless.

“Are you okay?” he asks, real concern on his face, along with a slight grin.

“Tyler,” I moan, my head lolling on my shoulders. It’s so full, I feel so full. “It feels amazing.”

“Fuck yeah it does.” He leans back down, his fingers working me, his mouth sucking hard on my clit. “Now come for me like a good girl,” he says, and this time?

This time I do.

CHAPTER 39

TYLER

I pick out some sweats for Savannah, along with a Beavers shirt with my name and number on it.

“It’s not a jersey,” I say apologetically. “I would love to see you in mine, but considering…” I trail off, worried I’ll upset her if I remind her of the fact our relationship is a secret, but she simply throws on the clothes, a relaxed smile on her face. Her blonde hair dries in unruly waves around her face, her skin scrubbed clean.

“You’re so beautiful,” I tell her, unable to resist giving her another kiss. “I don’t think my clothes fit you right, though.”

She laughs. “Well, this is a problem of my own making. Besides,” she throws her arms around my waist, hugging me tight. “These are pretty comfy. No complaints.”

Her stomach growls.

“Shit. I bet the chicken is ready. Come on, let’s go eat.”

“Oh, I’m okay, really.”

I peek down at her, but her expression is obscured by her damp hair as she swings away. “I’d be good with just salad.”

“Uh-huh.” I squint at her. “You need more than salad. Doesn’t have to be meat, but you do need protein.”

“Spoken like an athlete.”

“An athlete who is speaking to another athlete.”

“Then let’s go eat.” She pulls her hair out of the collar of the shirt, which hangs down to mid-thigh on her.

“Are you going to trip on those sweatpants? You could just… take them off if you want,” I call after her. “Won’t bother me a bit.”

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