I can’t hear anything except the sound of my deafeningly loud pulse as I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. When my hands find her hips, I pull her up to sit on the edge of the table, and, instinctively, her legs open to welcome me in between them.
“Hi,” I murmur.
“Hi, superstar.” Her fingers play with the hair at my nape and, if she can feel the chills rising on my skin, she doesn’t let on. “How was your day?”
“Boring.”
“Why is that?”
“Didn’t have an infuriating brunette on my ass who loves to piss me off all day long.”
“Sounds terrible.” She laughs, and it does something to me – it heals parts of me that I wasn’t fully aware needed mending. It stitches open wounds and envelops me in a bubble of solace only she can produce. “Did you miss me?”
“So much I thought I’d die,” I deadpan. I definitely missed her company and attention, but I can’t lay all my cards on the table – that would be way too foolish of me.
“Try it with more conviction next time,” she teases.
Swallowing, I gaze down at her lips – it’s like they’re calling for me, like they’re begging for my touch. I take the time to study her soft features, embedding the image of her staring up at me in the back of my mind. It’s so easy to get lost in Alara – as though time stops when I’m with her and the outside world doesn’t even exist anymore.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her question is just above a whisper.
I keep a palm on her hip as the other cups the back of her neck, my thumb brushing her pulse point, which thumps erratically. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that kiss, Alara.” Her pupils dilate, her lips parting as the wordsrush out of my mouth. I lean in, trailing my lips along her jaw to dot featherlight kisses on her soft skin, all down the side of her neck. She grants me more access by tilting her head sideways. Touching her, kissing her, feels like that first ray of sunshine on the first day of spring. It brings me to life in a way I refuse to comprehend. “I can’t stop thinking about your lips, the way you felt.”
“Yeah?” Her fingers fist the front of my sweater as her breathing starts to stagger. I lightly nip at her skin, wishing I could leave a permanent mark here. Just to show all the men who look at her that she’s mine, at least until I have to leave. “What else did you think of?”
Oh, fuck. My control is about to snap. My grip on her hip tightens, and the sound of her breathy whimper makes my cock twitch. “I thought of the way you’d sound if I fucked you,” I confess. “Of how you’d taste if I went down on you. Of how your bratty mouth would take my cock.”
“Oh my God,” she whispers, like she can’t believe I’m telling her this.
I chuckle against her neck, but when she yanks at my hair to bring my mouth to hers, the amusement dies, and something primal roars to life inside me. Our kiss exudes a sheer desperation that makes a groan rise in the back of my throat. It’s all tongue and teeth, so different from our first one, but leaves me breathless nonetheless. Every thought vanishes from my head when her tongue teases mine, and I’m ready to get down on my knees, but I need to make things clear before we move forward.
“Wait,” I breathe. I’m addicted to her lips, so I tenderly peck them. And again. Again. Once more, until soft kisses turn into slow, sensuous ones that cause goosebumps to rise on my arms. It takes so much strength from deep within me to pry myself away. “You kiss good, Bradford.”
She hums, smiling as I trace my admiring gaze down her lips. “You’re not too bad either, Ramirez.”
I clear my throat, looking down at her heaving chest, at the way her thighs are pressed around my hips, her center so, so close to mine. With her cheeks flushed, her lust-filled eyes, and her bruised lips, she looks like a work of art. “I— fuck, Alara, I want you. I’ve tried my hardest to convince myself that I don’t, but I’m tired of lying to myself. I like you. I really do” – she releases a shaky breath at my confession, her features brightening – “but I’m leaving. I’m leaving to go back to training as soon as my physio gives me the okay and if Coach is pleased with me turning things around. And I’m going to be honest here, I’m hoping to be out of here by the new year.”
That’s in only four little weeks, but that’s the truth. I’m working my hardest to prove to Coach that I’m ready to train again – even with the ghost of an injury. I’m doing my best to be a better man, and that starts with being honest with everyone around me.
Alara is hurt – I can see it in her eyes, even if she nods in understanding. I hate that I’m dousing whatever embers of hope she has inside her heart. “I get it,” she whispers. “Getting romantically involved isn’t a good idea. But, don’t worry, I’d never fall for you.”
I recognize her teasing tone, which makes a laugh bubble out of me. “You do wonderful things for my ego,” I say dryly.
Her fingers pass through my hair, her soft smile rendering my knees too weak for my liking. “So, what are you suggesting?”
“A month full of fun. No strings attached.”
She stares at my lips and nods. I don’t miss the way it took a beat for her answer to come . . . “Friends with benefits?”
I give her a suggestive grin. “Lots of benefits.”
Her eyes bounce between mine. The silence starts to stretch out, the hesitancy in her demeanor suddenly clear. I startsecond-guessing myself. Is this a bad idea? Are we going to ruin our friendship? She glances at my mouth, a little bit reluctant, a little bit vexed.
Oh, no, I’ve hurt her so bad.
Mierda.
Why do I keep screwing up?
