Page 113 of How to Lose at Love

Greed.

Plus, she smells good.

Plus, her skin is bare.

Plus,there’s that side boob.

Feel it when I graze her ribs again, deliberately tracking my hands up as far as they’ll take me before meeting the resistance of her arms.

She lets me.

And what’s that quote I once heard? Something aboutseventy percent of all massages between couples lead to sexif my memory serves me correctly, or maybe I’m making that shit up.

Seems legit, though.

The only thing that would make this better is lotion or lube, and I’m not dumb enough to say that shit out loud. I mean—I am dumb enough, butnow is not the time.

Ryann shifts restlessly in front of me between my legs, lowering her arms, resting her palms on my knees. Head dipping forward, hair falling around her face.

My hands go back up her ribcage.

Big. Hands.

Covering lots of ground.

Fingertips gently come down. I’m not tickling her, but I’m not massaging her either, my motions more of a ticking clock of uncertainty.

I lean forward.

My chest brushes her back.

Ryann inhales.

This time, I don’t just brush my chest against her back—when I lean in, I lower my head and lightly graze my lips against her shoulder.

She smells great.

Better than I do, and I’ve showered.

I inhale the scent of her, nudging her hair with my nose to get it out of my way, brushing my mouth at the curve of her neck. Right below her ear. Hands at her sides, resting at her waist.

My dick stiffens, my lack of underwear or boxers or briefs making it glaringly obvious I’m getting turned on. Probably was long before she walked out of her bedroom in four layers of clothing, one of them currently in her lap.

Naked from the waist up, she and I.

I test her again.

Raise my hands, sliding them around her middle to the front, her lips parting when they settle below her breasts.

My thumbs brush the bottoms of them.

Ryann’s head tilts to the left, inviting me to put my mouth there again, so I take advantage of the opportunity, cock hard as a rock, brain addled.

I have as much adrenaline as I do when I’m on the football field, waiting for the whistle to blow, utilizing every ounce of self-control not to slide my hands where I want them: onto her beautiful tits.

Innocent enough, yeah?

I scoot forward so we’re skin to skin, arms around her midsection, mouth on her flesh, dick straining against the robe at my hips, my hands flirting with her tits.

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