Page 68 of Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

I need to taste her.

Lifting her skirt so it’s out of the way, she spreads her legs just the perfect distance for me to lean forward and drag my tongue over her. Her fingers sink into my hair, and as I glance up at her, I see her eyes are squeezed shut. I already know this isn’t going to take long.

“Sophie,” I call her name, and her head drops as her eyes open and look at me. They are dilated and heated. There’s a blush on her cheeks, and her chest rises and falls at a rapid rate. “I want you to watch me.”

“I don’t know if I can,” she whispers.

Lifting one of her legs, I place it over my shoulder and rub my thumb against her. She closes her eyes for just a second, and then they pop open again to find me. Leaning forward, I suck her into my mouth while sinking two fingers in, one at a time. She’s soft, warm, and tight, and I could do this for the rest of my life and die a happy man.

I love the taste, the smell, and the feel of her. Hell, I already know that’s not the only thing I’m starting to love. It’s too soon to talk about what that might mean, but time doesn’t change the facts. After last night, if this girl wants me, she’s got me. I don’t need any more time to figure it out. I’m not sure I ever needed the time. I just knew deep down that she’s the one for me.

It doesn’t take long before I feel her start to shake. I hear the change in her breathing, and then she pulls so hard on my hair, making my eyes water. From her thighs all the way to her face, she flushes red. She’s beautiful.

Dropping her leg, I gently put her back together, then lick my lips before dragging them across my arm to dry them and standing.

“Hi,” I say to her.

“Hi,” she says back, eyes sparkling and sated. “Thank you for that. It was . . . well, you know . . .” She blushes again.

“I wanted to do that last night but thought it was best to hold off until date number two,” I tell her, adjusting her shirt and settling my hand on her waist.

She giggles. “I certainly wouldn’t have complained,” she says shyly.

“Are you ready to go?”

“I’m not sure. Am I?” she asks, her tone edged with an unexpected wonder.

I laugh.

“Yes. Vivi should be done with her dance camp in a few minutes, and I don’t want to leave her there too long.”

“Vivi,” she whispers, her eyes growing large with panic.

“She’ll be fine. She loves it there,” I reassure her, my fingers tightening around her. My hands are so large, just one of them wraps around half of her.

“Okay.” She reaches between us, runs her hand down over me, and gently squeezes. I was hard before, but now with her hand on me, I’m like steel.

“Seems not fair,” she says quietly, and with my other hand, I wrap it around her face and tilt her head back. Tiny freckles, long eyelashes, and perfect lips stare up at me.

“Fair is you sneaking over to my house later tonight after Vivi has gone to bed to keep me company.” I brush my lips against hers and take in the closeness of this moment.

She smiles. “And when is bedtime?” She runs her hand up and down me again.

“Eight,” I barely get out.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she teases as she kisses me one more time, then releases me. Stepping away, she turns to look in the mirror over her couch. She smoothes down her skirt and fixes her ponytail while I glance around. Everything looks exactly like I remember it, from the couch to the vintage skeleton posters on her walls. Which also now makes sense. She was a doctor, and I had no idea.

“Is Vivi excited to go out for pizza tonight?” she asks, pulling me from my memories.

I can’t help but chuckle. “Prepare yourself. I’m not sure you can handle what we’ve planned.”

She grins. “And what is that?” she asks, picking up her purse and moving us out the door so she can lock it.

“A pizzapalooza.”

She smiles up at me, and my chest constricts. “A what?”

“You heard me. Vivi had an idea, and I just let her run with it.” Wrapping my hand around her ponytail, I run the strands through my fingers. Her hair is so soft, just like all of her. Her lips, her skin, that sweet spot between her legs. Internally, I groan at how perfect she is.