Page 58 of Goal Line

“Yes,” she breathes out as she moves her body along mine. “But I needyouto make me come, Luke. Please.”

“I like it when you beg,” I tell her with a smirk.

“That’s not begging,” she says, a flash of defiance on her face.

“Notyet.” I bring my mouth back to her nipple, swirling my tongue over the hardened peak before sucking it into my mouth with several long pulls that have her moaning.

“Oh my god,” she says, her hips bearing down on me harder and faster. “Yes.”

I switch to her other nipple while I slide one hand behind her. With her breathy sighs as she rubs her clit against my cock, it makes sense that I find her absolutely soaked when my fingers reach her cunt, slipping right through the evidence of her arousal.

“Oh yeah,” she says, her breathing heavy. “Yes!”

I curl my fingers inside her, and the slick, slapping sound of her fucking my fingers as she grinds her clit against me makes the base of my spine tingle. I clamp my lips around her, sucking her into my mouth while my tongue toys with her nipple—and I think the fact that I’m touching her in so many places is setting her off.

“Yes,” she cries out. “Oh my god, please don’t stop.” She sinks onto my fingers over and over, begging me. “Harder, please, oh god,pleasedon’t stop...I’m so close...please...” The last word is nearly a choked sob as it escapes, and I feel the inner walls of her clench around my fingers. “Yes. Holy shit. Yes, Luke!”

That’s what does me in—the way she cries out my name when she comes has lightning darting up my spine as I shoot my release against my boxers. When she stops spasming against my fingers, her body falls forward against mine, resting her chin on my shoulder and wrapping herarms around my back as she sighs contentedly against my skin.

“Thank you.”

My chest shakes with a deep chuckle, and she pulls back to look at me, the question unmistakable on her face. “Trust me, Evie. The pleasure was all mine.”

“I didn’t think...” She bites her lip. “I wasn’t sure we should cross this line. But now that we have...” Her hips rock into me again, and then she glances down between us. “Did you...?”

“Just find the entire experience of getting my wife off to be the most fucking erotic thing that’s ever happened to me? Yeah.”

“Sure,” she says, her voice teasing, and it’s then that I realize—maybe for the first time—that I’m eventually going to have to tell her. Because she deserves to know that the first time I fuck her will be my first time, period.

“Trust me, Evie. I’ve never seenanythingsexier than you begging for an orgasm while coming on my fingers.”

Even in the darkness, I can tell she’s blushing, and I’m about to comment on it when the unmistakable sound of hissing air surrounds us and we start sinking.

“Oh my god, did we break this bed?” Her peals of laughter ring out over the air mattress deflating beneath us.

I look at her with a self-satisfied smirk. “We sure as hell did.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

EVA

Iwake up to Luke moving around in my kitchen. When I roll over to get a better look at him standing with his back to me in nothing but a pair of shorts, I can still feel the warmth on his side of the bed—and the view from over here is nothing short of spectacular.

The tattoos that run around his upper arms and onto his shoulders highlight the definition of his muscles, but those legs...Don’t even get me started on how muscular his thighs and calves are. He’s got the body of an athlete who’sclearlynever skipped leg day.

What’s less clear, however, is why my kitchen looks like a scene fromThe Sixth Sense. Every upper cabinet door is flung wide open, and he’s standing still, scanning their contents.

He squats then, pulling open one of the lower cabinet doors, and sighs. I lean over farther to get a better look, and he must hear the rustling of the sheets, because he standsagain and glances over his shoulder. With a tentative smile, he says, “You’re awake.”

I clear my throat. “Yeah.”

There’s a cloud of awkward energy filling the room, and I hate that. One of the main reasons I’ve convinced myself that it’s probably better that nothing ever happened between us is that I never wanted us to risk feeling this uncomfortable around each other.

He sets a coffee mug on the counter and turns toward me, and then I realize why he’d been searching my cabinets. Since he was last here, I installed pull-out shelves in the lower cabinets and moved my plates and cups there. Yesterday morning, I got a mug out for him and made his coffee while he was in the shower, so he didn’t know where to find a mug this morning.

He crosses the living room in a few long strides and sits next to me on the bed. Reaching out, he brushes the hair off my face and tucks it behind my ear. He doesn’t pull his hand back, leaving it cupping my cheek. “Are you freaking out?”

“Little bit.” I press my lips together and force myself to hold his gaze.