“I drove.” The crooked grin morphs into a full-on, self-satisfied smirk as he holds up his right hand and twirls a keyring around his finger.
“You did what?” I whisper-hiss, poking him in the chest. Even with the crutches tucked under his arms and only one leg for support, the wall of muscle I call my boyfriend barely flinches. Which is both sexy and infuriating. “I thought you weren’t supposed to drive with the brace on?”
I narrow my eyes and plant a hand on my hip for good measure. What can I say? The guy requires a firm hand.
Ideally on his backside.
“Pfft.” Chase waves a hand dismissively, the keyring tinkling like a string of bells. “I don’t even need my left leg to drive.”
Freaking football players.
I rub my temples, reaching for reason, which has clearly left the building where Chase is concerned. “So not the point. If you get in an accident—”
Chase’s mouth descends swiftly, his soft lips devouring mine with the kind of focused determination he gives every aspect of his life. His tongue slides along the seam of my mouth and it doesn’t matter what I was going to say, or whether he should be driving with the brace, because it’s irrelevant. There’s just me and Chase and the fire that burns so damn hot it could consume the sun itself.
I trail my fingers along his stubble-lined jaw, need coursing through my veins. I can’t imagine a day where I won’t want Chase with every fiber of my being, and despite his foolish actions, today is no different. I part my lips and he deepens the kiss. Each thrust of his tongue sends a shiver of desire down my spine, leaving me breathless when he finally pulls away.
And those goosebumps? Gone, thanks to the searing heat of his touch.
“I missed you,” he says, resting a forearm against the doorjamb and leaning into my personal space. Athletic shorts hang low on his hips—the guy never seems to get cold—revealing a sliver of the flat, defined ab muscles that always set my pulse thrumming. “Can I come in?”
“I’m studying,” I return, lifting my chin. I mean,of courseI want him to come in so I can ravage his body, but I’m not about to encourage him. Not when he broke the doctor’s orders to get here.
Even if it was sweet of him to surprise me.
“I’ll help you study,” he offers, wiggling his brows. “I’m really good at anatomy.”
“Don’t be gross.” I smack him on the bicep, which he completely ignores, reinforcing the fact that despite my own solid build, I’m slight by comparison. Most kickers are thin and wiry, but not Chase. He’s thick and, okay, all around delicious.
A fact he’s well aware of.
He chuckles and the low rumble hums across my skin. “You didn’t think it was gross last night when I—”
I clap a hand over his mouth before he can finish that sentence. “Shh!Bri will hear you.”
“Babe. I hate to break it to you,” he says, pitching his voice low, “but I’m pretty sure she knows exactly what goes on in your bedroom.” He knocks on the crappy wooden doorjamb, and a hollow echo resounds through the still night. “These walls are thin as hell, and you make the most glorious noises when I’m licking your pussy.”
And…cue the flaming cheeks.
Because, yes, even after two months of dating, I still flare up like a sunspot when he talks about sex. Or his cock. Or going down on me.
“Get your ass in here before I change my mind.” The chances of that happening are approximately zero, but he doesn’t need to know that does he?
“Such a romantic,” Chase teases, maneuvering past me, his crutches practically a natural extension of his body. “By the way, have I told you you’re cute when you’re embarrassed?”
“Once or twice.” I roll my eyes and close the door behind him, throwing the lock. The motion causes my t-shirt to slip down off my left shoulder, revealing a swath of pale skin and a whole lot of collarbone. “But don’t think flattery is going to get you out of trouble.”
“Oh, I don’t plan to use flattery.” He turns and white-hot need flares in his eyes as he drinks in the miles of bare flesh not covered by my t-shirt. I should feel raw and exposed, my every imperfection laid bare, but it’s not like that with Chase. With him, I only ever feel cherished. “I had something much more effective in mind.”
“Oh?” I arch a brow in silent challenge.
“Come over here and let me show you.” His words are rough and thick with desire. I know exactly what he’s thinking—because I’m thinking it too—and when he gestures for me to move closer, I’m powerless to resist.
The need to feel his hands on my body is too strong, too primal, desire coiling low in my belly at the mere prospect of his touch.
Chase doesn’t disappoint. When I step within reach, he lets one of his crutches fall to the lumpy couch and snakes an arm around my waist, pulling me flush to his body. The hard ridge of his erection presses against my belly, and I know that whatever he’s got planned, I’m a goner.
“I plan to use my mouth,” he says, planting a gentle, openmouthed kiss on my exposed collarbone. “And my fingers.” He rubs the sensitive spot at the small of my back, earning a quiet moan of approval. “And my cock,” he finishes, rolling his hips so his length glides across my belly with the kind of friction that promises imminent pleasure.
