Page 63 of Coach
“Sure,” he agreed without hesitation. And, it felt, without expectation. “Side preference?”
“Further from the door,” I said, going around the bed.
“Want me to leave the light on?” he asked as we both climbed under the covers.
“The light from the TV should be enough,” I said. Though I had a feeling it was his presence that would be the most comforting in the dark.
Saul flicked on the TV and then off the light.
The bed was huge.
But we somehow both managed to move in toward the center, our bodies touching from shoulder to feet.
His warmth chased away the chill from them keeping the clubhouse at the frigid temperature of the produce room at Costco.
I picked some random period piece for the comfort vibes and snuggled up under the covers.
And for once, my mind was quiet.
There were no thoughts about my violent bosses, my demanding manager, my annoying neighbor, the various other criminal organizations in town, or even the thing I’d been running from when I’d stopped and settled here.
The problem was, ripped off all those things to distract me, all I could seem to focus on was the feel of Saul beside me. The way his arm moved ever so slightly when he shifted, making it brush against mine.
It may as well have been a sensual massage with the way my body responded. It was a sizzle and a flame that burned brighter and hotter with each passing moment.
It wasn’t long before I wasn’t even paying attention to the movie, before I was fully focused on Saul.
“You keep wiggling around like that and I’m gonna have to do something about it,” Saul said, gaze cutting to mine, his lidsheavy, his eyes flooded with the need that was coursing through my bloodstream.
“Then do something.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Este
That rumble moved through Saul, and I’d swear it vibrated right in my core.
Luckily for me, Saul didn’t need to be told twice.
His hands shot out, one grabbing my hip and pulling me until I moved up to straddle him.
The other went to the back of my neck, pulling me down and forward until our lips met.
His mouth muffled my moan at the press, the heat, the promise of more.
Our crash of lips was rough, almost punishing, bruising.
My hands slid upward, grabbing the sides of his neck as he groaned into my mouth, low and guttural. The sound reverberated through me, making my hips drop down onto his lap.
It was my turn to moan at the press of his hard length against me. And I couldn’t seem to stop myself from rocking against him.
Saul’s hands slid down my body, sinking into my hips, then encouraging me to rock against him again.
And again.
His stubble scraped my skin raw in the best way, each drag of his jaw leaving me tingling.
The kiss deepened, shifted—still wild, but more reckless, more consuming. His tongue slid against mine—hot and demanding.
