Page 83 of Defending her Heart

“My signals are loud and clear. I like hanging out with you and I like having sex with you.”

“We’ve been hanging out for the past three hours and haven’t had sex in—”

In a move I didn’t see coming, Nash flips me on my back and hovers over me.Now we’re talking.

“Are you wet for me, Kendall?” His words whisper across my lips.

“Hanging out and watching movies doesn’t make me wet,” I retort. Hell, he’s been torturing me all night. Knowingly or unknowingly. Still, my panties are soaked but I have a small shred of dignity left. I’m not going to throw myself at him.

Okay. Fine. I’ve been throwing myself at him all night. Whatever.

“Hm.” He brushes his lips across mine, and this time I don’t open for him. I feel his grin against my skin as he nips my chin. “Stubborn.”

“Not stubborn. Horny.”

Nash chuckles. “I thought you weren’t wet.”

“I never said that. I said watching movies doesn’t get me wet.”

“What does?” he whispers in my ear and nuzzles along my neck.

You.Instead of responding, I lift my hips and grind myself against him. He’s hard, ready-to-bust-through-his-zipper hard, yet he’s trying to play it off so cool. I don’t know what Nash’s game is, but I...I like it. Not that I’ll admit it.

Friends with benefits don’t need to flirt or stall with foreplay. Fast and furious fucking. That’s what I suggested, but he’s oh-for-three right now.

“Tell me, Kendall.” He sucks my earlobe between his lips, and my panties go from damp to soaked.

I fist his shirt in my hands and start to tug it up over his chiseled chest, but Nash stops kissing me and lowers his body down mine.

“Do you like it when I kiss you here?” He rubs his nose along my collarbone, then licks the trail he’d just made. “Or here?”

He slips lower, his tongue dipping along the collar of my shirt and stopping at the top of my cleavage.

“Fuck, Nash.” My thighs quiver and lock around his torso. We’re still fully clothed, and he hasn’t even touched me anywhere other than my neck or my hip, and I’m ready to combust. I’ve never had an orgasm fully clothed, but I’m ten seconds away from having my first.

I shamelessly lift my hips again, needing the pressure against my clit. Nash, the devil that he is, tilts himself away so I can’t get the friction I so desperately need.

“Tell me where you want me to touch you.” He kisses me along my neckline, not crossing the line.

“Everywhere. Every-fucking-where.”

Instead of devouring me like I hoped, he continues to tease. I’m not a teasing kind of girl when it comes to sex. I like to play. I’m vocal about what I like and don’t like—I haven’t found a thing I don’t like with Nash. Except maybe this prolonged teasing. Although, deep down, I know once I get him to crack and actually touch me, the wait will be so fucking worth it.

The orgasm brewing inside me continues to grow stronger and stronger with every touch, every innocent kiss, every soft word.

Finally. Fina-fucking-ly, he pushes my sweater up, exposing my stomach. Nash kisses my side, then nips my hip bone. Hell, when did that become an erogenous zone? Like he did to my collarbone, he trails his nose, then his tongue, along the waistline of my jeans before moving north up to my torso.

He lifts my sweater over my boobs and the cool air causes my nipples to turn so hard I’m afraid they’re going to break off. I give myself a mental pat on the back for wearing a front hooking bra and moan in relief when the material comes loose, and my girls are free.

“You’re beautiful,” he says to my tits.

I crack my eyes open and glance down at Nash, only he’s not staring at my naked boobs, he’s staring at me. Now isn’t the time to look into the meaning behind those words. He thinks I’m hot. I’m not vain, but I know I’m easy on the eyes. He’s a guy. My boobs are smack dab in his face. Of course he’s going to coo words most guys say when they’re about to get laid.

At least, I assume most guys. The handful I’ve been with have called mefucking hot, or they tell me I’ve got a nice rack.

None, not even He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Mentioned-Or-Thought-About ever looked at me or touched me the way Nash does.

“You can touch them. Lick them. Bite them. They won’t bite back, unless you want them to,” I add for good measure.

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