Page 95 of Just One of the Groomsmen
Tucker’s calloused fingertips dragged over her hip bone, and her nipples strained against the lacy bra she’d worn, just in case.Screw slow, her body said, and her brain began saying it, too.
They’d known each other forever and you only lived once and—she bit her lip against the hum of pleasure that tried to escape when he stroked the spot where her hip met her thigh.
The guys turned back to comment on a play, and Tucker’s hand stilled. He managed to say something that sounded about right, but all she could do was nod.
Shep glanced at her, obviously expecting commentary that for the life of her she couldn’t come up with, even though Tucker had covertly withdrawn his hand. “Are you okay?”
She shot to her feet, so quickly the stool rocked. “Tucker and I have to go.”
Ford’s confused expression joined Shep’s, but Easton’s spoke to suspicions and the desire to turn an interrogator’s spotlight on them.
Or maybe she just felt guilty.
“You’re leaving before the end of the game?” Ford asked.
“I, uh…” She struggled for words, cursing them for being so damn slippery when she needed them most. “My grandma texted, and I have to go check on her. It looks like Atlanta’s going to pull off this win, too, so…”
Crap.That didn’t explain why Tucker needed to come.
“She’s had too many beers to drive,” he said, placing his hand on her lower back. Then he quickly dropped it. “So I’m going to take her.”
“Right. Because we’re responsible adults.”
“Well, I’d hate to arrest two of my best friends, so that’s good,” Easton deadpanned.
Yeah, he was definitely onto them, which almost made her hesitate to follow through, but they were already neck deep in the lie, and when it came down to it, she was too turned on to care.
SheneededTucker’s hands on her and for him to kiss her, and if she allowed her thoughts to continue down that path much further, she’d spontaneously combust in the bar.
If the Falcons hadn’t set up to kick a field goal, they would’ve been busted for sure, but as the attention swiveled back to the game, she and Tucker took the opportunity to call out their goodbyes and rush out of the bar.
Tucker guided her to the driver’s side of his truck, then practically launched her inside with a firm hand on her butt.
He slid in right beside her, fired up his truck, and peeled out of the parking lot.
“I’m totally going to hell for using my grandma as an excuse to go have sex with my best friend,” she said.
He circled her thigh with his big hand, slowly drifting higher and higher. “As the best friend you’re about to have sex with, I’m okay with that.”
“Ah!You’re okay with me going to hell?”
“Addes, I’m way too turned on for trick questions.”
“It’s not a trick question, it’s—”
He kissed her, slowing the truck as they turned down the winding dirt path that led to the houseboat. Even with half his attention on the road, he kissed better than anyone else.
The second he threw his truck into park, she climbed onto his lap and slanted her mouth over his. He gripped her hips and arched against her, and then she was cursing the bulky denim between them.
“Too many clothes,” she said.
“I agree.” He quickly undid the straps of her overalls before his mouth recaptured hers.
His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt, and when his hand moved up to palm her breast, his thumb brushing the lace over her hardened nipple, she let out an embarrassingly loud moan.
The groan that ripped from his mouth as she rocked against him came out even louder, and then it was almost like a competition. Whose sounds of pleasure could outdo the other.
The nice thing about this competition would be that no matter what, they both won.
