Page 64 of Never Date A Player
“Yeah, Jaeger’s kind of a big guy. Anyway—” I yank his arm and draw him into the bedroom, shutting the door behind us. He sits on the bed, because my room is the size of a closet and, like Jaeger, Lewis isn’t small. The mattress springs squeak under his weight, my queen-sized mattress looking like a twin with him on it.
“Do you want anything to drink? Eat?” Guess I should have thought of that before I locked him in my room.
He rests his forearms on his thighs. “I’m good. Thanks.” He’s watching me, and I get the feeling he’s taking in everything, a sly glance to my chest, my waist, my legs, returning to my face. I turned on the light, because leaving it off would have been an act of desperation—I would never do that.
He’s getting an attractive view of a wrinkled tee and sweats, but somehow I don’t think he minds. My heart speeds up, breasts perking. I swallow and take a deep breath. Calm, peace, serenity—I will not hyperventilate at the thought of Lewis in my room staring at my nipples through my threadbare shirt and lacy bra.
I sit next to him, my gaze straying to his mouth like it’s the focus of the universe. “So, what do you want to do?” I drag my gaze up.
He’s watching my lips.
He leans forward and kisses me, his hand cupping my jaw. My head goes dizzy.
“Is this okay?” His normally smooth voice is scratchy and deep, his mouth hovering.
What? “Yes—” I lean forward and press my lips to his.
Like a tornado touching down, everything that was once still and tentative turns into a whirlwind of motion. I’m tugging on his shirt, he’s sliding his hands up my top—we’re falling back on the bed.
I manage to wrestle his sweater off, but I’m foiled by the buttons of his shirt. While I’m yanking at those, he brushes his hand over my forehead, pushing hair off my face. He looks in my eyes. “Gen, we don’t have to do this. Right now. I can wait. I would wait.”
No guy has ever said he’d wait to have sex with me. A couple of times, I wasn’t ready to take the relationship to that level, but I went along with it because I wanted a boyfriend. Most of that was my fault for not speaking up.
Waiting is the last thing I want right now.
“What if I don’t want to? I never cared about this—it was just a part of—” I’m waving my hand around like a crazy person. “And now you’re telling me you don’t want to?” My voice is too high, but it’s difficult to speak while I’m hyperventilating from hormones and the fear he’ll put the brakes on like he did the night at the boathouse.
I start to sit up and he covers me with his body, mouth on my neck. “I want it,” he says beneath my ear.
I suck in a gulp of air. My shoulders relax, then my arms. My hands flatten on his broad back. “Oh,” I say before his lips brush mine. “You’re attracted enough to me?”
He leans back, his gaze incredulous. “I almost kissed you in the hallway the first night we met—before talking to you. You’re seriously questioning my attraction?” He rolls over and runs his fingers through his hair, staring at the ceiling. “Gen, I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out how to reach you. I thought you hated me—thought I was a cheating ass—and then we kissed at the cascades. I wasn’t going to let you shut the door after that.”
Well, when he puts it that way… “If that’s true, why are you worried about us having sex?”
He rubs his jaw as if searching for the right words, and rolls to his side to face me, his head resting on his hand. “I’m not worried about it. I just—this is important to me. I don’t want you to feel rushed.”
“But you don’t get it. I’ve never been horny for a guy.” He grins. “I mean—you know what I mean. I like you too. As frustrating as you can be with your training torture,” I grumble.
“Okay.” He captures my mouth in a lingering kiss. “As long as that’s settled. Just so you know…” He runs his lips down my throat and licks the top of one breast. “I will have to kill anyone that looks at you wrong or hurts you, now that you’re my girlfriend.”
He called me his girlfriend… Enough talkie.
He lifts his head and I frown at the distance. “I was an inch away from murdering that dick at your job.”
“Who, Drake? But that’s what the mudder is for,” I mumble, and try to reach his lips, which he keeps an inch away no matter how far I lift up. I huff in frustration. “I’m going to be a badass and guys won’t dare paw me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Alpine Mudder.” I kiss his chin, dipping my tongue over his scar.
He swallows, his eyes unfocused. “What does the mudder have to do with men pawing you? And who’s pawing you?”
This conversation has gotten his blood rushing in the wrong places. “No one. I’m just trying to get more assertive around men, but—can we talk about this later?” I palm him through his pants. I’m very interested in the enormous object that’s been sexually tormenting me these last weeks.
His eyes go dazed. He rolls onto his back and pulls me on top, kissing me deeply.
Buttons finally undone, I shove his shirt off, exposing a mile of smooth, muscular skin, and run my hands down his chest and stomach. Lewis’s breathing kicks up a degree as he watches me unzip and spread the fly of his pants, sliding his boxer briefs low, exposing him.
