Page 184 of Breaking Point
Taylor Swift can barely be heard over Cindy and Bella’s cacophony, which by the sounds of it, someone is drunk. Bella texted me early this afternoon asking if it was okay to drink in the house, and to my utter surprise, I felt okay with it.
Even now as I round the corner and the faint smell of alcohol permeates my nose, I don’t want to drink. Only when my emotions get too big for me to comprehend and process do I turn to liquor.
I’m about to crack a joke, but as my living room comes into view, my tongue suddenly weighs a thousand pounds and my feet come to a slow stop.
Standing on my kitchen island, in nothing but an oversized jersey, is Bella, a microphone to her lips while she belts out a Taylor Swift song. Cindy is on the couch, Bambi’s paws in her hands as she makes my dog dance.
Is that…?
Bambi is in a jersey, the number 33 scrawled on her back.
I hear Asher burst into laughter but all I can seem to do is stare at Bella, still wholly unaware of my presence. Her eyes remain closed as she sways her hips.
My cock hardens—painfully.
Despite the fact it’s excruciatingly obvious Bella is tone-deaf, everything fades into the background as she spins on the balls of her feet, showing me the most glorious sight.
It’s not just any oversized jersey she’s wearing. It’s mine.
Myname across her back.
Mynumber across her midsection.
Andmyfucking jersey teasing the skin along her thighs.
I can’t help it, I fuckinggroan.
Thank god for the karaoke hiding the sound. I’ve never been so turned on in my entire life, and it’s over a fuckingjersey.
We’ve been dancing around one another for weeks, had stolen kisses that had to end because it went against our arrangement rules. And in this moment, I have never been more thankful that another person is around so I have an excuse to kiss the ever-loving fuck out of her.
I’m striding across the room in no time.
As Bella spins, she jumps, her eyes widening before she falls into a fit of giggles, but even the laughter dies on her tongue once she sees my expression.
Kneeling, she moves closer. “Grayson, what’s wron?—”
My hands wrap around her waist, pulling her off the bench. I place her to my front and cut off her words with my lips. Wrapping an arm around her midsection—over my jersey—I pull her flush against my body, eating the surprised moan that falls from her mouth.
She’s beautiful, so fucking beautiful, and she has no idea that she owns my heart completely.
Whoops and hollers ring out from Cindy and Asher behind us but they fade, going in one ear and out the other. My cock strains against my jeans, pressing into her stomach. I know the moment she feels it because her hands are suddenly running through my hair, pulling me down closer to her.
Looks like I’m not the only one who has been waiting for an opportunity to kiss again.
I’ve been utterlystarvedsince our last kiss on the deck, when her body molded against mine perfectly, her hips moving in my lap. A groan rumbles deep from within my chest when I can’t stop picturing her squirming atop me.
Then it moves on to everything I think about when I wrap my hand around my cock.
Everything I want to do to Bella.
Every inch of skin I want to explore along her body.
Everything I want to taste.
I can’t stop picturing placing her on the kitchen bench, parting her thighs, lifting the jersey with my name on it, and fucking her senseless until she’s coming around my cock while screaming my name.
I needher.
