Page 63 of Stick Break
“Absolutely. There’s a plaque and everything. Very prestigious. Right next to my third-grade spelling bee participation ribbon.”
“Impressive résumé.”
“If you don’t believe me, I can show you my credentials.”
She laughs, but her eyes go soft. I can see it, that flicker of something deeper, something softer in her eyes now. I don’t want to just be the guy who gets naked fast, but the guy she can trust.
“You don’t need to show me your credentials, Rip,” she murmurs, pressing up against me, her lips ghosting the edge of a smile. “I can already feel them.”
My body throbs as heat arcs between us, sharp and undeniable. I drop my voice, all humor gone. “You left the door open,” I murmur. “I assumed that was an invitation.”
My fingers trail down her arms, and I grip the hem of her dress. I lift it slightly, and her breathy sigh is all the encouragement I need. I pull it higher, my other hand sliding between her legs. She parts them instinctively, like her body’s already made the decision her mouth hasn't said yet.
“It was,” she whispers.
I lean in and growl into her ear, low and rough. “All night, babe. All fucking night, I’ve been thinking about you.”
Her voice trembles with anticipation. “What were you thinking?”
“This,” I say. I drop to my knees and hook my fingers in her panties. She lifts her dress, watching as I slowly drag the fabric down her silky legs.
“You’ve been thinking about my panties?” she asks, a teasing note in her voice.
“Yeah. And the sweetness underneath.”
I lean forward, part her folds with my tongue, and taste her.
“Oh, Rip…” she moans, her hips swaying, her body seeking more. I grip her thighs, steadying her, grounding us both in the moment I’ve been aching for.
“I’ve been thinking about you too,” she breathes.
“Tell me.”
“I’ve been thinking about your hands. The way they touch me. About your mouth, and the pleasure you bring with your tongue.”
I drag my tongue from bottom to top and circle her swollen clit.
“Yes…like that,” she gasps, her voice unraveling.
I slide a finger inside her, and she whimpers. “You’ve been thinking about this?”
“Yes. And those two big boxes of condoms, and all the memories we’re going to make.”
I glance up, and what I see nearly steals my breath. The heat in her eyes. The flush on her cheeks. My heart pounds a little harder.
Memories.
Is it a reminder to me—maybe to herself—of what this is. Fleeting. Temporary. A moment in time?
But as I look at her, this strong, kind, stunning woman giving herself to me I’m suddenly not so sure I want fleeting.
Maybe I want more.
16
Charley
His hands glide over my skin, slick with soap, moving slowly, carefully, like he’s handling something precious. Honestly I don’t think any man has ever made me feel so cherished before. The scent of citrus and heat swirls in the steamy air, and bubbles burst between us, tiny pops of joy that match the fizzing in my chest. I feel ridiculous and light and overwhelmingly happy, a feeling I haven’t let myself touch in far too long.
