Page 54 of Those Two Words

A giggle bursts out of Jo’s lips and I roll my eyes. “That’s immature, even Booth is more well behaved than that.”

“You said rack and balls in one sentence. How was I supposed to react?”

Thirty minutes later, I’ve talked her through the basics and we’re playing our own game. I have two stripes left, while the table is littered with solids. I’ve lost count of how many times she’s pocketed the cue ball. She even managed to chip it off the table, narrowly missing my balls at one point.

We take our time pocketing our balls, not paying any mind to the time. I try to show off with some fancy shots, because I’m only a hot-blooded male after all.

When Jo somehow manages to scratch again, I stroll up behind her and shake my head.

“Johanna,” I scold mockingly. Taking hold of her shoulders, I maneuver her body so it’s at the right angle. With the cue between her hands and my chin hovering above her shoulder, I whisper my next words, “Have you forgotten how to shoot your shot again?”

“Like this?” she breathes. Before I can make a joke about her poor technique, she leans into my touch, and her back brushes my chest as we bend over the table.

“Mm-hm,” I hum, because how am I supposed to form sentences when I’m pressed up against her like this.

It’s a dangerous game, but it doesn’t stop me from draping myself over her back, my chin propped on her shoulder, and arms bracketing hers. I feel the rise and fall of her chest, and I’m sure she can feel the growing hardness in my jeans.

Trying to keep up the charade that this is all about teaching her how to play, I slowly skate my hand down her arm. “That’s it, just like that. Do you remember what to do now?”

I know she knows what to do, I’ve watched her do it badly for the last half hour. She shakes her head anyway, and because I take education very seriously, I show her.

“Here, let me remind you.”

twenty-three

JOHANNA

“Here, let me remind you,” Patrick says, the deep timber of his voice vibrating through to my bones.

“Remind me?” It’s possible my brain has melted. The game. Of course. I asked him to show me how to hit the ball with the stick-thing. Cue. He’s told me that like eight times.

I’m pulled from my internal rambling when Patrick’s palm glides from my elbow to my wrist, where the cue is balanced, and his hand envelops mine. His support doesn’t stop me from shaking, and I think my whole body is pulsing with need at this point.

With his chest flush to my back, he helps aim the cue at the white ball. I try to funnel all my concentration into what he’s showing me, but my mind is on anything but the game. I’ve had a one-track mind since the moment he came up behind me.

And I remind myself he’s just teaching me. Nothing more.

Get your head out of your vagina, Johanna.

He brings our arms back in tandem. “Just like that.” His breath coasts across my shoulders, and goose bumps rise on my arms that he’s sure to notice.

Without warning, he pops our arms forward, and the cue follows our movements, hitting the ball dead center. The satisfying crack reverberates around us, and the air leaves my lungs in a rush as the solid green ball drops into the pocket with a thud.I can’t even remember if I’m solids or stripes at this point.

I should be excited that I’ve finally pocketed a ball. My mind and body are too distracted by the way Patrick remains draped over me. He could step away now if he wanted to.

But he doesn’t.

The air is so thick around us, like a fog of anticipation. The crackling energy surrounding us is enough to shake the foundations of this empty bar and bring it tumbling down, with no care in the world.

I try to ignore my arousal, but it’s difficult when I can feel Patrick’s dick nestled against my ass. Every hard plane of his chest and abs is pressed against me, keeping me pinned between him and the pool table. This first innocent game now feels anything but. A buzzing starts beneath the surface of my skin. My breaths are coming in fast. Wetness pools between my legs.

We’ve tried to pull back the reins on what’s going on between us, both aware that there’s a lot to discuss before diving headfirst into the whirlwind of this unquestionable magnetism. We lose all sense whenever we’re alone, and right now, no one is here.

The edge of the table digs into my hips, causing me to shimmy them to ease the discomfort, but a groan from behind stops me and I realize I’m grinding my ass into him. I should be mortified that I’ve just rubbed myself up against him like a dog in heat, but I’m not. I also don’t stop myself from repeating the movement, because I’m desperate to hear that noise from him again. All deep and throaty.

Before I convince myself this is a bad idea, my ass shifts against him again, and I hold my breath, waiting to see what he does. He allows me a few seconds of stolen pleasure, and then his hands fly to my hips to halt my movements.

“Jo,” he grits out, as though he’s in pain. “What are you doing to me?”

---