Page 185 of High Stick Heartthrob

Side boob. Top boob. My nipples hard because Atlas was looking at me.

He put his hands on the counter and actually bit at his bottom lip.

I sighed and walked toward him.

“Come on, say good morning,” I said.

His hands touched my stomach. His mouth moved toward mine.

I grabbed his wrists and moved them to my chest.

“I’m not blind, you idiot,” I said. “You were staring at my boobs. So just say good morning. Then go get me a hoodie. Then explain why you didn’t make breakfast.”

When his hands touched my boobs, my toes curled and I let out a surprisedohsound.

Atlas’s thumbs moved over my nipples in a hurry.

I jumped back. “Okay, that’s enough.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks for two reasons.

One was the obvious.Atlas was touching me.

The second?

I had a weird feeling in my chest all of a sudden.

A bit of arushingfeeling.

Like my boobs were…going to leak…

Atlas walked away and got me a hoodie.

I swam in the thing but it was comfy and smelled like him.

“First off,” he said to me, “I didn’t feel like making breakfast. So I didn’t. Nothing shocking, okay? You looked so beautiful sleeping and I watched you for a little bit.”

I shook my head. “Don’t watch me sleep. Ever. This isn’t some cheap romantic comedy movie, Atlas. That’s weird.”

“Well, I was watching parts of you,” he smirked.

“Oh, wow. Waiting for a boob to fall out?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re…”

“What?” Atlas cut in. “Huh? What?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Just nothing.”

Atlas hit a home run -or scored fifty hockey goals- with his choice of breakfast.

Greasy sandwiches on flaky croissants.

Egg, bacon and cheese.

Egg, sausage and cheese.

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