Page 101 of Coach
His mouth chased away my inner ridiculousness, pressing against mine harder and hungrier than before.
My fingers found the buttons of his shirt. Damn flannel. How many fucking buttons were there? And did they have to be three times the size of the little holes?
I fumbled . . . and fumbled.
Shane’s lips grinned against mine a heartbeatbefore he pulled us apart, a genuine grin parting his lips. “Need some help?”
I let my head fall into his chest. “Yes, please.”
He kissed my forehead. It should’ve felt weird or awkward, like a father kissing his child, but that gentle press against my skin gave me another, very different, sense of safety. He had me—he really had me—and it was going to be okay.
Then his first button came loose.
And the second.
And the third.
His glorious chest revealed itself, one tiny sliver of square-covered cloth at a time.
I couldn’t wait for him to finish. He moved too damn slowly. My lips found bare skin as I kissed my way behind his unbuttoning, inching my way south until the last one popped free, exposing the happiest trail ever to grace a man’s abs.
His fingers dug into my hair, entwining, gripping, massaging my scalp, as I kissed every inch of him I could reach.
“Does this mean you missed me?”
I stopped kissing and looked up. The smart-ass smirk glaring down was almost too much.
“Yeah, I did,” slipped out.
His grin twitched. It didn’t turn into a smile, but it twitched. I took that as a good sign.
“Your shirt is in the way,” he said.
I kissed his belly button, then looked up. “Not my problem.”
He growled, and that low rumble made my cock pulse. Damn, this man and his primal, feral, irresistible grunts and groans.
Meaty hands gripped my shoulders, hauling me upright. He was so strong I couldn’t have resisted if I’d wanted to—and I didn’t want to.
He didn’t tease or go slow like he had with his own shirt. In quick, precise motions, my polo flew over my head and sailed across to land on a sideboard or chair or some other piece I didn’t give a shit about in that moment.
Shane whistled.
I stiffened.
His gaze slid over me, and his lips twitched again.
“What?” I asked.
“You sure about this?”
I pressed my palm to his chest, and damn if it didn’t budge. “Very.”
He growled again, his eyes brightening with desire. “Good. I’m going to break you for any other man. You hear me?”
I think my butthole quivered.
Where had all this come from? I mean, I knew there was something between us. Just the thought ofShane made my crotch tingle and stomach flip. Still, he’d barely shown much overt interest beyond the awkward, what-the-hell-was-that forehead kiss he’d planted on my noggin. I was beginning to wonder if it might not take months or years to get to second base; yet there we were, about to swing for the fences.
