Page 66 of The Hearts We Fumble
“You feel that, baby?” I rasp against her ear, my cock pulsing against her soft skin. “You feel how fucking hard I am just from seeing you wearing my name and number?”
A slow, knowing smile spreads across her lips as she turns her head slightly, her gaze locking with mine. Then, with the kind of confidence that drives me insane, she arches her back, rolling her ass against me. I groan, gripping her waist to steady myself.
“You like knowing what you do to me?” I grit out.
She nods, eyes dark with heat.
“Fuck,” I growl, dragging my lips along her jaw. “You have any idea how long I’ve been fighting this? How I just spent thirty minutes on a bus, packed between my teammates, losing my damn mind at the thought of slipping into your room and finding you like this?”
“Zane,” she breathes, and it’s pure surrender.
“That’s right, baby,” I whisper against her ear, nipping at her lobe. “If I slip my fingers between those gorgeous thighs, will I find you soaked for me?”
“Yes,” she hisses. “Always.”
A satisfied hum rumbles in my throat as I pull away just enough to take in the sight of her sprawled beneath me. A shiver runs down her spine at the loss of my warmth.
“Up on your hands and knees, firecracker,” I order, my voice thick with need. “Let me see.”
She obeys without hesitation, rising onto shaky arms and arching her back in a way that makes my blood heat. My fingers trail down her spine before slipping between her thighs, groaning when I find her dripping for me.
“Damn,” I mutter, lifting my fingers to my lips, tasting her, savoring her. The musky sweetness of her arousal sends a fresh wave of hunger through me.
Shoving my boxer briefs down my hips, I take myself in hand, dragging my thick length through her slick folds, teasing her, pressing between the plush globes of her ass.
“Tell me you want this, Wyatt,” I demand, voice strained.
She tilts her hips, pressing back against me, her breath hitching. “I want this. I want you.”
And that’s all I need.
Fuck.I’m so turned on right now, I can barely think straight. If I don’t slow down, I’m going to lose it before we even have a chance to really get started.
Gripping her hips, I roll her onto her back, pinning her beneath me as my mouth finds the soft skin of her neck. Her breath hitches, her fingers threading into my hair, and I trail slow, open-mouthed kisses down her throat, lower to the dip between her collarbones.
When I push my jersey up over her breasts, my tongue flicks over one peaked nipple, then the other, earning me a shuddered gasp. My lips continue their descent, a slow, torturous path down her stomach, stopping just above where she’s already trembling for me.
I drag a single finger through her slick folds, and her hips jerk, a whimper escaping her lips.
I grin against her skin. So damn responsive.
“Please, Zane,” she breathes.
I force myself to tear my gaze away from where I’m touching her, meeting her eyes. “Please, what? Tell me what you need.”
“More. I need more.” Her voice is breathy, desperate, and fuck if it doesn’t send a fresh surge of heat straight to my dick. “I need you to touch me.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere. I need you everywhere.”
She arches off the bed, pressing herself closer, as if that will be enough to force my hand.
Sliding lower, I kiss a path along her inner thigh, pausing to drag my teeth lightly over her skin. I feel the way she quivers, the anticipation winding so tightly inside her she’s seconds away from begging.
Good.I want her desperate for me.
Spreading her open, I hover just above her, blowing a warm breath over her soaked skin. The way she shudders, the way her fingers fist the sheets—it’s almost too much.
