Page 53 of The Fangirl and the Playboy

“Thanks. This really hits the spot.”

There’s soft music playing from a speaker in the corner, and neither of us suggests turning on the television while we eat. I know I’d much rather focus on Gavin than a movie or show, and it seems he feels the same, watching me with happiness in his eyes as he eats and drinks.

“So, I had lunch with your brother today,” he says without preamble, then immediately looks like he regrets it when I choke on my pizza.

He pats my back as I cough up the bite I inhaled, and when my throat is finally clear, I give him a dark look. “Give a girl a little warning before dropping bombs like that.”

“Sorry,” he says with a laugh and shrugs.

“So, how did that happen?” I ask, my expression going blank.

Or, at least, I hope it is.

“It wasn’t planned or anything,” he says. “We ran into each other at the tavern, and he asked if he could join me.”

“Uh-oh,” I say. “Did he warn you away from me? I mean, you didn’t listen to him,obviously, but did he?”

“Actually? No,” he replies, his tone conveying his own surprise. “We talked about how you and I met, and I told him what happened to tear us apart.”

“You did?” I cut in, my eyes wide with disbelief.

“He’s your family. I didn’t want to lie to him. And after I explained how I fucked everything up with you, he simply asked me if I thought I could make you happy.”

“And what did you say?” I ask, setting my plate with my half-eaten slice of pizza on the coffee table.

“I told him I was certainly going to try.”

I swallow thickly, then I reach out and take his plate and beer from his hands. Setting them on the table, I climb over him, straddling his thighs and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“I feel happy right now,” I say, arching my back to rub my boobs against his chest.

“I thought you were starving,” he says, his voice deep and husky as his hands clamp around my hips.

“I’m hungry for something else, now,” I tease, then release my grip on him to whip my shirt over my head.

I’m not wearing a bra, and the second I drop my arms, Gavin leans forward and sucks one peak into his mouth. Heat spreads from the spot, streaking straight to my core, and I buck against him before grinding down on his rapidly growing erection.

His hands slide up from my hips, grazing the curve of my waist before sliding around to cup my breasts. His mouth moves to pay the same courtesy to my other breast as I continue to roll my lower half against him.

“I’m beginning to think you’re just using me for sex,” he murmurs as he continues to worship my breasts.

“You have a problem with that?” I ask in a husky, teasing voice.

“Nope. None,” he shoots back, then flips me over onto my back on the couch and hovers over me.

“Tell me what you want, Willow,” he whispers as his hand kneads my breast.

“I want you to touch me,” I whisper, and his hand obediently slips beneath my pants and underwear to cup my mound, his fingertips sliding easily through my flesh.

“So wet for me already,” he breathes, dipping a fingertip inside and pumping shallowly.

I groan and lift my hips, trying to drive the digit deeper, but Gavin seems intent on teasing me, so I beg. “Please.”

Instead of complying, he pulls his hand free, ignoring my wordless complaint. Standing, he bends over and picks me up, cradling me against his chest. I point the way to the bedroom, and he strides forward, carrying me like I weigh nothing.

After placing me on the bed, he slowly pulls my pants down, kissing each inch of flesh he reveals. He does the same with my underwear, and by the time I’m naked, I’m writhing with need.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, watching me as he whips his shirt over his head before pushing his athletic pants down.

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