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“Can you?”

“You doubt me? My pain is more manageable; I don’t think I’d reinjure myself playing bedroom games. Dr. Webb gave you the all-clear?” he asked.

I nodded and his smile widened. “Then I look forward to continuing this conversation at a later date.”

“Why not continue it now?” I asked playfully.

I was a maniac. A bold one. This is what Jimmy had done to me; driven me to lusty thoughts that refused to be squelched with my parents in the same house.

“I need to reinforce the locks in our room before that happens. If only one brother were here, I wouldn’t worry, but with both and your dad here, it’s a bit much. I don’t want them asking uncomfortable questions tomorrow if we get loud. Or worse, trying to break down the door to get to you, convinced I’m hurting you.”

My brows raised. “You wish. Rest assured, I’m a quiet one.”

His smile turned wicked. “Okay, then. If you think you’re so quiet, let’s play a game. It’s a grown-up version of The Quiet Game.”

My pulse raced as I stared at him steadily. I took a deep breath, reveling in the steady but fast beat of my heart. “How do we play?”

He scooted closer, whispering in my ear. “You’re very...very...quiet. No noise, in fact. If you make a sound, I win.”

I shivered at the soft puff of his breath against my neck before whispering back. “Any sound? That doesn’t seem fair. What’s the forfeit?”

His bass rumbled softly, sending licks of fire down my spine. “Tonight? Unfortunately, that I stop. Once your family leaves, we can be as loud as we want. Until then, if you want to play, it’s got to be inaudible. Sound good?”

I nodded, and he skimmed his nose down my neck and back up to my ear. “Starting...now.”

He propped himself more comfortably on his side, his injured leg on top. His left hand traced down my body, skimming my curves before coming back up to my head, tucking my hair behind my ear with one callused finger. His gaze followed his hand, and I could feel my skin warming beneath his perusal. Heat flashed across my breasts, tightening my nipples to points. He was hardly touching me, but I shifted restlessly on the bed, ready for more. I scowled. I couldn’t tell him what I liked; not if I wanted him to continue. The ‘quiet’ part of The Quiet Game wasn’t my favorite. Luckily touching him was silent. I reached out, grabbing his wrist, and scraped his hand down my body, running it along my neck until it cupped my breast.

Jimmy took the hint. He leaned in, lifting my left breast, and stroking the nipple through my T-shirt. The warmth of his skin through the cotton teased, but it wasn’t enough. I urged his head down, and he laved my nipple through the shirt. The thin fabric slowly became transparent, revealing my dark peak beneath the material. I breathed out a short huff of breath as he nipped the tip and watched me with wicked intent. He put a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

I wanted to shush him all right. As the damp fabric cooled, I arched beneath his touch, hungry for his talented mouth. My thighs shifted under the sheets, pressing together, and the fabric slithered against my skin, raising goose bumps. I ached to hook my leg across Jimmy’s waist and pull him on top of me. I wanted the weight of his body, but I didn’t want to injure him further in the process. Instead, I arched again, trying to communicate my frustration wordlessly.

He turned his attention to my other breast, and I reached for his hand again. He let his palm go lax, allowing it to be guided by my own. I dragged it slowly from my diaphragm, scraping over my ribs, to my hip bone. He smiled and used the hand as leverage to push up from my chest, returning to sip from my lips before whispering in my ear. “I want to taste you for real when I’m mobile again.”

Lucky for Jimmy, that could be arranged. A rush of sticky-sweet warmth trickled to my center at the husky timbre of his words. Deep. Dark. Addictive. I maneuvered his wrist, pulling him to the juncture between my thighs, and encouraged him to press. I needed the firm weight. I did my best to give him silent tuition, and Jimmy was an excellent student. He took over the rhythm, watching me carefully for my response. My breathing quickened, and I tensed. As his speed picked up, I bit my lip and arched away from the bed. His hands were talented, but I wanted all of him. He was steadfast on his side, and it killed me not to have his weight and body moving against mine. I wanted his heat. But I didn’t want him in pain.

Jimmy seemed to sense I was thinking about something other than how good his hand felt. “Pretend this is a study date,” he whispered. “We have to be quiet. We only have a few minutes before someone tattles your bedroom door is closed. I don’t want you to get grounded. Then we can’t go out on Saturday.”

I tried to picture it. Jimmy would have been a dream at seventeen. Lanky and handsome with a quick smile. I could imagine staring at him over my calculus book, losing my train of thought every time he grinned. He picked up speed as my mind traveled through the mists of time, imagining a teen version of us making out in my bedroom, exploring each other. Every forbidden stroke sent another sweet ache of desire to my center.

His mouth lingered on mine, kissing me with teeth and tongue, exploring my mouth. The slight scrape of his stubble along my neck sent fresh shivers through me. Every muscle tightened, poised on the sharp edge of possibility. He maintained a steady rhythm, and I spared a thought for the strength and dexterity of his fingers. Video games for the win.

With a last rotation of the heel of his hand against my clit, my orgasm crashed, sending waves of release through my taut body. I couldn’t hold back. I whimpered softly in relief. Jimmy kissed me thoroughly, smiling into my lips before leaning back to meet my heavy-lidded gaze. “I win.”

I sank into the bed, breathing hard. I twisted my head on the pillow, seeking Jimmy in the gloom as I caught my breath. “That’s debatable. I’m pretty sure I got the prize.”

His deep chuckle sent fresh shivers down my spine, but when he spoke his tone was serious. “How do you feel?”

“Freaking fantastic,” I reassured.

“I meant your heart.”

I took a moment to breathe and assess. He was asking about my physical heart, not my emotional one. Was he ready to hear that I loved him? More time. We needed more time. I focused on my body. “Fast, but steady. I think I like this game.”

His voice was deeper than usual as he responded. “Me too. I’m ready to play anytime you like.”

I reached out to kiss him before running a hand down his chest toward the waistband of his boxers. “Really?”

He clasped my fingers in his, tugging them back to his heart before they could creep lower. “Anytime but tonight,” he admitted.