Page 28 of The Sweet Spot

I’m trembling, my hands are glued to the dashboard, and I’m completely under his control as I feel the orgasm building in my core. JB keeps his mouth on my breast, sucking and biting lightly while his fingers drive me over the edge.

“Come,” he growls against my skin. “Let me feel it.”

It hits like a wave. I cry out, clenching hard around his fingers as pleasure rips through me. He doesn’t stop, and keeps stroking me through every pulse, waiting just long enough to drag it out while muttering rough praises. “Good girl... finally listening... fuck, you feel good falling apart for me.”

I’m still shaking when he slows and eases his fingers out.

My body feels like jelly, and any annoyance from earlier has melted away into nothing. The only thing I care about is the pleasant sensation tingling between my thighs.

“See?” he says, bringing his hand between us. My wetness shines against his skin, and he makes no attempt to remove it. “Finger placement’s just fine.”

Finger placement?

My heart is hammering, my brain is fuzzy and my thighs are slick, and the second his lips meet mine; I'm calm.

He kisses me slower this time, helping me come around after everything that just went down. We shouldn't have done that, but I would happily do it over and over again if it meant all the noise would stop.

Just as I thread my hand through his hair, wanting to deepen the kiss, he pulls back and rests his forehead on mine. “Now. You ready to go finish ten? Or do you need some help to relax on the eleventh as well?”

I stare at him, still trying to remember my own name.

Shit.

That was so good I almost forgot we were in a tournament. One that I'm still currently losing.

He smiles, seemingly watching my reaction. The smug idiot is pleased with himself, and I can’t let him know how much I enjoyed that. Imagine how smug he'd be then.

“One orgasm doesn’t mean your grip is fixed.” I pull my polo down, adjust my panties and shift back to the passenger seat of the golf cart. I press the skirt pleats down, trying to ensure the fish mouth doesn't look creased. The first time in my life I've ever cared about something like that.

When I finish, I find JB is staring at me.

"Problem?" I ask with a raised brow.

He stares at me for a second longer. Then he throws his head back and laughs.

“No problem at all, Coach. In fact, I think we just solved our problems.”

"I'll believe it when I see it," I grumble, ignoring the fact that my core tingles every time I look at his fingers.

As we pull back toward the fairway, the distant sound of the tournament filters back in, I adjust my skirt again to give me something to do other than think about what the hell just happened.

We are so screwed, but damn, I'm a hell of a lot calmer about the tournament than before.

Chapter 6

Come on.

My fingers tap against the top of my golf club as I watch Max hovering over the putt on the eighteenth hole.

His shoulders are square, his jaw is tight, and he’s been looking between the ball and the hole for the last forty-five seconds.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him visibly nervous all day, which isn’t surprising since it’s all come down to this final hole. If he gets this in, then he and Jess are in the lead heading into tomorrow’s final round. It also means if he doesn’t, we've managed to claw our way back into that position.

How we got this close to them between the tenth and the eighteenth can only be down to one thing.

Whit relaxed. Granted, she still won’t look at me, but that’s not surprising. I get it. I can imagine it’s hard to look at the guy who finger-banged you into a potential winning streak without wanting it to happen again.

She’s standing beside me now, her arm brushing against mine as she watches Max hit the putt.