Page 66 of Never Date A Player
“Condom?” I gasp. I’m on the pill, but we haven’t talked about other stuff.
His breath fans over my cheek, lips grazing my ear. “It’s on.”
It’s on? Wow. I was really—yeah, well, occupied.
That’s the last coherent thought I have as Lewis slides in and out, picking up a steady rhythm, and then I’m moaning and gasping out another orgasm, more intense than the first—which I didn’t think possible.
His body tenses and a sexy groan erupts from his chest, his arms stiffening on either side of my head. His breaths are rapid as he holds himself above me. After a moment, he collapses to the side, rolling me with him.
It’s official, I think, as my legs tangle with Lewis’s. I’ve gone from prude to sex animal. I’m plastered to his front, breathing in his scent like a drug, his arms locked around me, and I’m not sure I ever want to leave this place. I’m considering a repeat of what we did, just as soon as I regain oxygen to the brain.
Limbs languid pieces of useless matter, I drift off, in the arms of the only person in the world I’ve ever shared myself with. My whole self, my mom, my body, my heart…
Chapter Twenty-Two
A beam of light streams through the beige curtains opposite my bed, heating my face and blinding me. I curl into the warm, smooth wall next to me. Lewis reaches behind, pats my thigh as if to get his bearings, and curls his arm around my back, tucking me close into a reverse spoon. His wide shoulders shift, blocking the light. I drift back to sleep—until my phone rings, disrupting the most perfect morning I’ve ever woken to.
I fumble for the phone on the nightstand. The ring-vibration combo sounds like a siren, jarring my brain. I intend to press Ignore, but my eyes aren’t working so well and I accidentally hit Talk.
“Hello? … Hello?” sounds through the other end. “Genevieve?”
“Mom,” I croak. “It’s early. Too early for?—”
“Are you still sleeping? I should have known. I mean, really, how do you get anything accomplished when you sleep the days away?”
This is ironic, given my mom slept away many a morning after all-night benders with guys half her age.
“I work late, Mom, and I’ve been training. Tired. Can we talk later?”
“Training? For what?”
“Alpine Mudder.” I yawn. “You should come. It’s in a couple weeks.”
Lewis slips out of bed and my thoughts congeal into a static hum. His naked body. His ass… what we did last night.
My mom says something.
“What?”
She huffs out a sigh, then her breath stills. “Wait a minute. Is there someone with you?”
“The mudder—” I say in a rush, holding to the previous topic and gripping the phone.
“There is! There’s a boy with you. Who is it? Have I met him? Please tell me it’s not the anal-retentive one.”
“The what? No, Mom. I have to go. Don’t forget the mudder. You said you wanted to visit again before I returned to school. The mudder will be a good weekend.” Or disastrous. I haven’t decided.
“Should have known you’d be an athlete,” she grumbles.
That gets my attention. My head clears and I sit up. “What are you talking about? You suck at sports—” I blurt before realizing how bad that sounds. “I mean, you love golf, and that’s what’s important. It’s not all about being good, but… what did you mean, exactly? Is there someone else athletic in our family?”
“No—no, nothing.” Her voice is tight. “You’re right. It skipped a generation. I think your great-grandfather—yeah, your great-grandfather was a baseball player, or was it football?”
“But you said you should have expected it, so didn’t you have someone in mind?”
“What? No, Genevieve. Are we going to argue all morning or are you going to tell me about this race and that boy in your bed?”
I rattle off the date of the race and ignore her last question. “Love you, Mom.”
