‘No, wait.’ He grins. ‘Say it again. Please.’
I push a folded-up goal onto a shelf with an exasperated roll of my eyes that’s not actually so exasperated. Please. I’m calling unfair advantage. How does he manage to detangle my insecurities like this? ‘Oh,’ I huff, ‘Mylanta.’
‘Like the fuckin’ ad,’ laughs Rod. ‘No way.’
‘Stop that.’ I shove his shoulder before crossing my arms, as if I’m totally objecting to the fact that I like any sort of attention this man gives me. ‘It’s stupid. Most people think it’s cringe. But my mom picked it up when she was younger, and then it rubbed off on me.’
‘It’s not stupid.’ He glances at me over the shoulder I’d smacked as he arranges a set of practice sticks on a bottom shelf. ‘I think it’s cute.’
‘It’s cute you think it’s cute.’
‘Take a win, Curly,’ he quips, brushing past me with a gentle tug of one of the dumb curls of hair that’s escaped my ponytail. Something else that’s always bugged me; no matter how much I straighten my hair, the little bits in the front always escape. Something else he seems to find ‘cute’. A warm feeling expands in my chest, and I reach out, take his hand to stop him from leaving the shed. He looks back with an air of pleasant surprise.
‘What did you just call me, now?’
‘Oh, so you get “hotshot”, “big time”, “Romeo”, and I can’t get away with “Curly”?’ Dimples cut into Rod’s cheeks, even through his short stubble. ‘Romeo is such an awful nickname, you know. He dies at the end. Theybothdie at the end.’
‘Yep.’ I know how dangerous that stupid nickname is. It’s the reason I’ve been calling him that in the first place, but it feels more finite when I think about it. Keeps me from fully meeting his eye. It’s not like this is going to last for ever, either.
He takes one of those stubborn curls and tucks it behind my ear, his eyes skimming my face before landing on my lips, then back up to meet my gaze. As if he’s read my mind, he succeeds in distracting me as per usual, and I’ve never been more thankful. ‘Y’know, you still owe me the “ride the cowboy” part of the bargain we made.’
‘Do I really?’ I chew on the inside of my cheek in exaggerated thought. The look of thirst on Rod’s face is absolutely delightful. Of course, I’m going to prolong the agony so I can soak that look in for just a moment more.
But he’s not prolonging any agony. He does that wonderful thing where he pulls me to him, wrapping a hand around my waist, and his lips find mine right away, hungry. No, starving. Our tongues dance around one another, hands roaming withoutabandon. So we’ve learned we’re not exactly gentle. This doesn’t stop us from colliding with the wall of the shed a bit too hard, cones teetering precariously as the shelf next to us shakes. Rod’s touch finds its way beneath my T-shirt, pulling it over my head, one hand squeezing my breast through my bra. I moan into his mouth and tug him closer by a handful of his shirt. It takes maybe two seconds before that, too, is lying on the ground next to mine.
‘No condoms,’ he whispers as his fingers sneak round to the small of my back, and he presses me to him so I can feel the solid bulge at his crotch against my leg.
‘No?’
‘Mm-mm.’
‘Rod.’ I almost don’t recognize the raw need in my voice. I’m not needy. Not until it comes to him.
‘Let me …’ He drops a trail of kisses down my neck, towards my clavicle, before he kneels down before me, a hand on my thigh, thumb stroking the sensitive spot on the inside. ‘Let me make you come, Jor.’
A giddy breath hitches in my chest. This has to be a dream. After shit years of shit sex at OKC, this is new. Like, really new. I cover his hand with mine and lean down. My eyes meet his desperate ones, shaded by long lashes.
‘Say it again.’
‘Please.’ I don’t know if it’s accurate to say that he pleads with me, begs with me. It lights a fire in my core. ‘I wanna make you come.’
I tuck those words away, tuck the yearning on his face away to remember for the rest of my life. Sure, it’s not every day your celebrity crush goes down on you. That’s great and all. But it’sthe way he looks at me. It’s this reverence. This awe. I’m not sure if I’m worthy of that kind of awe. I’ve never seen that in a man’s eyes before. All I know is I never want to forget what it looks like.
‘Make me,’ I whisper.
That sparkle in his irises makes my little heart stampede. One hand still grips me to him, the other sneaking underneath the short black athletic skirt I decided to wear today. I almost thank my lucky stars I picked that skirt out – almost – until he curses.
‘Seriously?’ Rod grumbles, lifting the fabric of the skirt to reveal the built-in shorts underneath.
‘I paid way too much for it,’ I explain breathily. ‘It’s nice!’
‘It’s going.’ He presses a kiss to my thigh before literally yanking the thing right down my legs, and I kick it off with a laugh. ‘Sit.’
I plop my ass down on the nearest plastic folding chair like I’m on a timer. As if we’ve been doing this forever, this dance of unbearable attraction, he takes my right leg by the ankle, popping it up on his shoulder as he rises on his knees, looking up at me with a smirky smile that tells me exactly what I’m about to be in for.
And, let me tell you, he delivers.
Chapter Eighteen
