Did I mention that before I did so, I took my sweater off? It’s awfully warm in here, after all. Perfect temperature for the tiny shirt I have on underneath. The shirt that hugs my chest and rides up above my belly button when I place my hands on my hips and straighten my back to get a good view of Jamie’s posture.
Jamie’s sharp Adam’s apple pops on what I’m pretty sure is a dry swallow. He tries to focus on the lane in front of him, but his eyes keep pulling in my direction. His form is a lot less graceful this time. He releases his ball directly into the gutter.
I frown. “Hm. That’s unfortunate.”
He narrows his eyelids at me. “You know what you’re doing.”
I put on an innocent face. “Just trying to learn proper bowling posture from a natural.”
The same trick works just as well the second time. From a strike followed by a spare, Jamie rolls two gutter balls in a row.
I pick up my ball, hoping to take advantage and catch up with him. But when I step up to take my roll, my breath hitches as I’m suddenly surrounded by Jamie’s body.
“Here,” he says into my ear, the heat of his breath brushing against my cheek. “Maybe a hands-on demonstration will be better than watching.”
“You want your stance … like this.” Heat snakes through me as Jamie plants his hand on the curve of my hip and guides my legs into position. Adrenaline shoots into my heart at the feeling of him manipulating my body. Suddenly, I find it very, very difficult to care about bowling.
I turn to him. Our bodies would be flush if I weren’t holding onto this damn bowling ball. My core throbs at the memory of his hand working me to blissful release. An impatient clench tightens between my thighs.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask.
The glimmer in his eyes is devilish. “I just might be. Why don’t you tell me what it is you’re thinking, and we’ll find out.”
“I was thinking that we could continue this game some other time.”
Jamie’s brows bounce, and he nods. “Notexactlywhat I was thinking. But agreeable to it.”
“What exactlywereyou thinking, then?”
Jamie takes the ball from me. With his long wingspan, he’s able to set it back on the ball dispenser without stepping away. Instead, he takes one step closer so that our chests press together. Electricity crackles through me when he dips to rasp into my ear.
“I was thinking that I really need to find out what you taste like. Right now.”
27
CARMEN
Slanting tongues, teeth nipping at lips, frantic touching, desperate grasping—the second my front door closes, Jamie and I are a whirlwind of worked-up energy, articles of clothing falling by the wayside as we stumble to my bed.
Arousal fills my blood when we fall onto my mattress. Slick warmth gathers between my legs. A knot of anticipation tugs deep in my core, remembering the rumble of Jamie’s words against my ear. Jamie made it sound like going down on me was something he actually wanted to do, rather than a chore to finish as quickly as possible, which is how I’ve experienced it before.
Even though this is something Jamie’s never done before, I can sense that he’s eager to make me feel good, and that’s sexy on its own.
Although my own anticipation ratchets up after we’re lying on my mattress, I sense a sort of trepidation winding through Jamie’s body. His hands are more hesitant, not roaming over me like they were a moment ago, and he’s pulled back on the intensity of his kiss.
He’s nervous.
It’s cute, honestly. But I’m horny, so I give him some encouragement to keep this moving in the direction we came here for. I take his right hand and guide it underneath my shirt.
Sparks scatter over me in a hot wave when his hand contacts my skin. His muscles pull tight, and he gasps against my mouth. His hand burns a path up my belly, past my ribcage. Heat blasts between my legs when he slides it underneath the cup of my bra and palms my breast.
“Fuck.” The word is a ragged rasp against my lips, pulled from Jamie’s throat as he pauses, like he needs to savor the feeling of touching me.
The pad of his thumb brushes against my nipple. Pleasure rolls through me, and I arch my back. “Jamie,” his name ghosts from my lips.
Something shifts in Jamie. Suddenly, he’s a man possessed. A tsunami of desire smashes through his apprehension, and he’s all over me. In seconds, our clothes are on the floor next to my bed. I’m in nothing but my bra and panties, Jamie in nothing but his tight boxer-briefs, and his hands and mouth are on a mission to feel every inch of me.
He crawls lower so his lips can rake against my body, the outline of my ribcage, my belly button, the soft expanse of skin between my hipbones. He inches back up, his mouth scorching my skin the entire way, to kiss my shoulders and my neck, sending a shudder racing through me.
