Page 81 of How to Lose at Love

Ryann’s index finger drifts lower, dragging down the elastic of her panties.

Lower still.

It’s smooth where she’s going, smooth, but how much? Shaven, but how much of it?

Above what I’m sure is the most perfect pussy on this planet, she has written, upside down with an arrow pointing downward, the words KISS ME.

No. She. Did.Not.

“Does that say kiss me?”

If I wasn’t seeing it with my own fucking pair of eyes, I wouldn’t believe it. Never in a million years would I believe it.

Ryann looks like a prude.

Sweaters. Jeans. Hats, mittens, and scarves.

Turtlenecks.

She nods, lips curling into a coy smile I wouldn’t have imagined she possessed. “Yes.”

Kiss me.

Kiss…it.

Our eyes meet across the bed, cards still piled between us, creating a weak barrier.

“Truth or dare,” I whisper, voice rumbling.

“Truth.”

“Do you want…” I drag the words out painfully slow. “Me to kiss it?”

Slowly…

Ever so slowly…

Ryann nods, never breaking eye contact.

Yes.

Uncrosses her ankles.

Raises an arm above her head, causing the hem of her T-shirt to ride higher. I’m not staring at the bottom of her tits, but it’s close, so close…

Fuck my life.

Actually, fuck Diego Lorenz and his fifty bucks.

Fuck my agent and his need for me to be more approachable.

Fuck my brother Drake and those two neighboring nitwits who felt the need to shame us into a sleepover.

Why is Ryann Winters suddenly so…

So…

Mouthwatering?

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