Page 8

8

SCARLETT

“ Y ou actually do this for fun?”

I’m drenched with sweat. It’s a ninety-degree day and the sun is high in the sky, its rays assaulting anyone caught underneath. And Lane just made me join him on an outdoor run.

“Running in hot weather is invigorating,” Lane says chipperly. His grey Brumehill College t-shirt is dark with sweat as it clings to his broad torso.

I look at him like he has an extra head sprouting out of his neck. “You’re insane.”

He just chuckles as he opens the door to the house he’s staying in with some of the other college hockey players working as coaches in his summer program.

I moan in relief when we step inside and I’m hit by the glorious feeling of air conditioning.

My eyes almost roll into the back of my head when the cool air wraps around my exhausted, sweaty-drenched limbs.

I press myself to Lane’s wide back and fling my arms around his neck from behind, holding on tight. “Drag me to the couch,” I command.

The rumble of his laughter vibrates against the front of my body as he obeys. I let my whole body go limp except for my arms curling over the cords of muscle around his neck and shoulders. My feet drag against the carpeted floor as Lane walks me to the couch.

Even though I’m exhausted, pressing myself so close to sweaty Lane gives me a whiff of his post-exercise pheromones that sends arousal rushing through my body. My nipples firm underneath my sweaty shirt.

I let go of Lane’s neck and plop down onto the couch. Having a place to sit feels good, but I suddenly miss the feeling of having my arms wrapped around him, and the musky scent of his post-workout body.

“Want a water?” Lane asks, still standing.

I nod. While he walks to fetch it from the kitchen, I let my gaze rake over him.

His athletic shorts are cut well above the knee, giving a peak of his muscular thighs. His sweat-matted shirt sticks to his body, contrasting the width of his rounded shoulders with his trim waist. When he opens the refrigerator with his right hand, I see the cords of muscle in his arm rippling, and a tight feeling winds between my legs.

I’ve finally decided to stop shrinking away from our physical chemistry. I’m just waiting for the right time to surrender to the tug that pulls between us.

When my gaze skates over his chest as he walks back with two bottles of water in his hand, and the dip between the two slabs of chest muscle gets highlighted by the fabric of his shirt sticking to it, I start to think that the right time might be pretty soon.

Lane hands me one bottle of water before he drops his weight onto the cushion next to me.

When he does, the old springs on the couch sink, and I slide into him.

In a flash, we’re pressed together. His pheromone-heavy scent surrounds me, and my bare arm slides against the sweat-slicked ropes of muscle on his.

Our thighs press together. The tightness that was winding low in my core knots to a sharp, insistent ache. Everywhere our skin makes contact feels like a jolt of electricity ripping through my body.

Our eyes lock. Lane’s jaw ticks. I pull a sharp breath through my nose. The air between us crackles and thrums with intensity. The world around us fades away.

We drop our bottles of water unopened and press our lips together.

The kiss erupts with all the suppressed lust and desire that’s built up between us ever since we sat next to each other on our flight. There’s nothing soft or gradual or tentative about this kiss. Already Lane’s lips are firm and demanding, and he’s angling the kiss deeper by the second.

His tongue sweeps across the crease of my mouth, and I open for him. He strokes past my lips, our tongues tangling and lashing together with unrestrained hunger.

I slide my hand under his shirt, finally feeling the sharp ridges of his muscles that I’ve been dreaming about. They ripple and dance under my touch, an electric current snaking from my fingertips and coiling through my body.

I moan into Lane’s mouth when his hand falls on my thigh and his grip curls into the sensitive skin there. His fingers knead into the soft flesh, so torturously close to my pussy that’s wet and clenching with need.

His other hand wraps possessively around the back of my neck, his grip pulling me deeper into the kiss.

My lips are swollen and sore in the best way, my chest panting when we finally break the kiss for a moment to come up for air.

“Upstairs,” is all I manage to say.

Hunger paints his eyes in a flash. He scoops me up in his arms effortlessly. It’s a miracle he manages to get us up the steps without tripping, because our lips are latched together for the entire journey until he’s laying me on his bed.

We strip our clothes and fling them to the floor.

My hands roam the broad expanse of his back as Lane hovers over me. His muscles are so tight, so dense, the skin above them so soft and still flushed with warmth from our run. His scent is so overwhelming, his clean and piney smell laced with a heady musk of pure testosterone.

I hook my leg around his trim hips. The back of my calf falls on the curve of his taut, bubble-round glute, and the sensation has a liquid pulse of arousal bursting in my loins.

Fuck . I’m so wet and throbbing with need.

“Fuck, Scarlett,” Lane husks as his lips dot hot kisses along the edge of my jaw. “I’ve wanted you so fucking bad.”

“I know,” I moan breathlessly.

His chuckle vibrates in his chest, causing friction against my pinched nipples as his body presses against my tits.

“You’ve been such a fucking tease since we met,” he rasps, his lips skimming near the pulse point under my jaw. “You’re going to deny you’ve wanted me, too?”

The heft of his hard cock finally rests against me, pressed just next to my hip bone and so close to where I want him that my stomach clenches.

“I want you to fuck me right now, I won’t deny that,” I answer with a shaky voice right as his lips burn across my collarbone.

He dips his hand between my legs and runs his finger up the length of my wet slit.

“Fucking hell,” he rasps while a shiver wracks my body. “Fucking soaked for me.”

“Get a condom,” I tell him, the pangs of want tugging between my legs growing unbearable.

My eyes eat up Lane’s naked body as he gets up and walks to the other side of the room to grab one.

He’s immaculate. It’s unfair how damn good he looks. Long limbs wrapped with lean muscle, wide shoulders, trim waist, tall stature, the most mouthwatering ass I’ve ever seen.

Seeing him winds my arousal so much higher that I have to clench my bare legs together at the knees to withstand the pounding ache between them.

Lane turns around, rolling the condom down his length. He strolls back to me leisurely, lightly fisting his shaft, an arrogant glimmer swimming in his gaze as he clocks the need vivid in my expression.

He walks to the foot of the bed and plants his grip firmly on my curled knees. He wrenches them open, parting my thighs and leaving me totally exposed to his gaze. My whole core is a tight throb, screaming for him to enter me.

“Look how damn pretty you are,” he says reverently, his eyes sharp and pointed at my center. “Wet and glistening for me.”

I want him to slide into me so badly, but first he lowers his head between my legs. Pleasure thrashes through my body as he slides his tongue through my slickness, curling the tip around my taut clit.

It feels good, really good, but it’s not what I need right now. I fist my hands into his thick blonde hair and tug him up.

He laughs, the sound dripping with arrogance. “So fucking needy you won’t even let me taste you like I want.”

“You can taste me later,” I groan, “right now I need you to fuck me.”

He husks a breath of disbelief, looking at me with a crooked smile. “I’m really fucking glad your earbuds died on that plane.”

He lines himself up against my opening and pushes his hips forward.

I gasp as he fills me. There’s an initial wince of discomfort at the shock of his unfamiliar size, but it’s washed over by the relief of having him stretch me like I needed so damn badly. My walls clench around his length, euphoria filling me as he draws back and ruts forward again.

Pleasure burns up and down my spine with each thrust. His room is full of the wet slaps of our still sweaty skin, moans, groans, and curses dripping from both our lips.

A ball of tension quickly expands inside me as Lane’s breathing starts to pick up. I can feel his muscles tighten, his thrusts becoming more frantic. I know he’s steaming toward release.

My orgasm pulls my body taut as ecstasy blasts through me. A throaty moan in my ear announces Lane’s climax, and he spills into the condom while my walls clench around him.

Lane collapses next to me. When I snuggle next to him and drape my hand on his damp, heaving chest, it feels like, for once, and at least for now, everything is going right.