Page 9 of Geek in the Streets
“Yeah,” I say. “Sorry. I thought it was obvious.”
Her laugh is strangled. “Nope.” Two soft hands slide up my forearms to circle my wrists, holding me in place. Holding me toher.Holy hell. “But I’m starting to get it now.”
There’s a flash of lightning overhead; another rumble of thunder. As I lean down, it’s like the whole parking lot is holding its breath, and when our lips finally brush…
Static crawls over my skin, setting my nerve endings alight, while my skin goes hot and tight. One chaste kiss, and already I’ve never felt so alive.
“Huh,” Shelley says, tilting her head and pushing up onto her toes to kiss me harder. My heart riots in triumph, even as my body presses her back against the brick.
“Fuck.” The curse word slips out beneath my breath unbidden, and I feel myself flush hotter. This is ungentlemanly behavior. Cornering Shelley in the parking lot outside the studio and pressing her up against a brick wall; kissing her hungrily and groaning into her mouth. None of this isme,none of this is Dallas Adams, and yet with Shelley it feels so right.
“Oh god.” She yanks at my shirt, crumpling the starchy white fabric beneath eager hands. “Oh my god.” She kisses me back again and again, as greedy and desperate as I feel. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Me either.”
Another crash of thunder marks the first few spots of rain, gentle at first, then coming down harder and faster, speckling our shoulders and soaking into our hair. The rain itself is balmy and warm, the scent of damp concrete rising fast and strong, but for once in my life, I barely notice the change in the weather. Can’t see or feel anything except the woman arching against me, her body catlike as it rubs against mine.
“Dallas,” Shelley breathes into my mouth. Her hands are in my hair now, tugging and twisting on the dark strands, her nails scratching at my scalp. A bolt of arousal spears my abdomen, so fierce that my knees nearly buckle.
Need to get inside her.
Need to make hermine.
Except—except I’ve never done that. Never wanted to before. And I’m clueless, beyond the primal instincts making me rock against her, pinning the make-up girl to the wall with the rigid length of my cock.
What if I’m bad at it?
What if Shelley is expecting something else—a man ofexperience, like the lead anchor with his string of mistresses and the fans who scuttle in and out of his dressing room after the daily news. What if she thinks I’m that way too, a celebrity lothario who knows exactly how to make a woman scream with pleasure?
Is that what she wants? Will the real me be a disappointment?
“Dallas,” Shelley sighs again, tugging my bottom lip between her teeth. She hasn’t noticed me turn wooden with anxiety, not yet. “I hoped it was me you were talking about back there. God, I really, really hoped it was me.”
“Uh-huh.”
Rain drops soak into the collar of my shirt and slide inside the fabric, soaking my chest and back. It’s still hot and muggy out here, but there’s a coldness seeping through my insides that I can’t seem to shake.
Now Shelley leans back, her green gaze clearing as she studies me. A pinch forms between her eyebrows. “Are you alright?”
My nod is robotic, but it’s a lie. No, I’m not alright. I’m—I’m standing here, arms wrapped around the woman I’ve obsessed over for the last six months, the sweet taste of her lingering on my tongue. And I’ve kissed her and squeezed her and pressed her against this wall; I’ve rubbed my clothed cock against her like a goddamn caveman. And Shelley’s lapped up every ounce of it so far, she’s soaked up my attention like a happy little sponge,but she doesn’t know yet that I’m clueless. She doesn’t know yet that I’ve never touched another person like this before.
She doesn’t know that the city’s sweetheart is… a virgin.
Shame washes over me, irrational and sickly, but no amount of internal lecturing about the very concept of virginity being outdated can help me right now. Not with the damp heat of Shelley’s core throbbing against my thigh.
Would she laugh at me?
Would she sigh?
Would she think I’m strange, like an alien pretending to be human?
“I… I need to go.” My frazzled brain casts around for a good excuse and lands on, “My segment is coming up. And the weather has changed.”
My hair drips into my eyes, as if to prove my point. Christ, we’re both soaked to the skin, too caught up in clinging to each other to notice the incriminating rain seeping into our clothes. Do I even have time to change before going live on air? Do I have time to get micced?
Even still, it’s a monumental effort to peel myself away from Shelley and step back. As soon as I do, the rain starts hitting the dry patches on her front where I’ve been sheltering her.
Shelley stares at me, baffled once more. And I’ve done it again, I’ve made things weird between us, but I can’t fix it right now. Can’t even think straight. I stumble back.
