Page 55 of The Score

Dean crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Nuh-uh. If you want me, come and get me.”

Aggravation climbs up my spine. “So we’re playing games now?”

“Nah, no games.” He lifts one dark-blond eyebrow. “But I’m still not convinced this isn’t some sort of trickery on your part.”

“What, you think I invited you over so I could fuck with you?” I offer a saucy smile. “Sweetie, I invited you over so I could fuck you. Period.”

He chuckles, and the deep, husky sound goes straight to my core. Oh, screw it. If he needs me to make the first move, I’ll make the first move. It’s not like we both don’t want the same thing.

Without a word, I bridge the distance and sweep my palm over his cheek.

Dean gives a slight intake of breath. His face is completely clean-shaven, and I find myself longing for some stubble. I liked the way it felt against my skin last time.

But unlike last time, I’m stone-cold sober tonight. There’s no way I can use alcohol as an excuse for what I’m doing right now.

I glide my hand over the back of his scalp and slide my fingers through his damp hair. As our eyes lock, I tug his head down and our lips meet in a featherlight kiss. No tongue. No urgency. It’s an exploratory hey-how-are-ya between our mouths, before I pull back to look at him.

Sweet Lord. His gaze contains so much raw, palpable heat it startles a gasp out of me. The next thing I know, Dean’s mouth crashes over mine again, and there’s nothing exploratory aboutthiskiss.

It’s pure hunger.

His tongue thrusts into my mouth in a deep, punishing stroke. I hear myself moan, but Deanswallows the desperate sound with another greedy kiss, his warm hands clamping on my hips as he kisses me until I’m breathless.

My heart is pounding. Holy hell, I’m insanely turned on. So is he—I feel the proof of it when he grips my ass and yanks me against him, grinding our lower bodies together.

“You get me so fucking hard,” he growls.

He rotates his hips, bending slightly so his shaft lines up in the cradle of my thighs. Then he rocks forward and his erection rubs over my clit, triggering a shockwave of pleasure that sizzles along my spine.

“Naked,” I choke out. “Now.”

With another chuckle, he ignores the frantic request and kisses me again. His lips are as greedy as before, utterly dominating, and just when I think this frenetic, passionate make-out session couldn’t possibly get any hotter, Dean abruptly slows it down. His tongue tickles my bottom lip. His perfect teeth give it a tiny nip. Then he buries his face in my neck and lavishes it with soft, open-mouthed kisses that leave shivers in their wake.

Since he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get naked, I take matters into my own hands. I capture the hem of his sweater and draw the heavy material upward. I get it up to his collarbone, and he lifts his head to help with the rest of the way. The moment his sweater comes off, I eagerly sweep my palms over his warm, bare flesh.

He makes a husky noise and threads his fingers through my hair, watching me with lust-filled eyes as I caress his chest.

This guy isbuilt. I damn near purr with happiness as I explore the hard planes of his chest. I traceeach sculpted pec with my index finger, then target one flat nipple and press down on it. He jerks, his breathing going heavier. I trail that same finger down the line of dark-blond hair leading to his waistband, then flatten my palm and stroke the defined ridge of his abs.

Dean’s lips find my neck again. With deft fingers, he works the material of my shirt up and eases it over my head.

He sucks in a breath. “No bra?”

“Seemed redundant.”

Pleasure ignites inside of me when he cups my breasts. He sweeps his thumbs over my nipples and groans softly. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to play with these tits again.”

My head lolls to the side, and he takes advantage and licks a path from my neck to my ear. He sucks lightly on the lobe, and I sag against his warm chest, losing myself in sensation. Dean continues to tease my nipples but uses only the pads of his fingers. He’s barely making contact, and my nipples tighten painfully every time his fingertips ghost over them.

“Perfect handful.” He squeezes both breasts, his thumbs dancing along the underside of each one. “And these nipples. Jesus Christ, baby.”

He dips his head, and I cry out when he flicks his tongue over my right nipple. After all that tortuous non-attention, the firm, purposeful lick he gives me is like an electric shock through my body.

“Hell yeah,” he groans. “I could suck on these all night long.”

And then he follows through. At least with the sucking part. He closes his lips around the hard bud and draws it into his hot, wet mouth.

“Oh fuck.” I gasp.

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