Page 35 of Stud

His hips jutted forward. Full lips parted, he cupped my cheeks and used his powerful quadriceps to press my thighs to the rough bark. Whatever sexy dance the grass was doing tickled along my fingers until I was running them up and down his sides. I was verging on delirious. “Do I get to kiss you now, sinful chocolate boy?”

He rolled his hips, and his erection ground against my belly. “Doll, you’re about to get devoured.”

Ten

Eleven letters describing the amount of heat removed to keep a space cool. Or when your nuts ice over because you lie to the woman you’re falling for.

C O O L I N G L O A D

Owen

My jeans pinched around my cock, not an inch of space between Ainsley’s sensual body and mine, but I needed more. Needed her honeyed hair unfurled over my sheets, her clothes strewn across my floor. Her skin shifting against mine. That perfection would have to wait.

Heart hammering in my throat, I wrapped my hands around the soft give of her waist and captured her lips in a crushing kiss. When I’d imagined kissing Ainsley in the past, it was slow and deep with little bites and licks snuck in. But her revelation of my sexuality and my growing need the past hour had shaken me to the point of explosion.

And I nearly did that. Almost came in my jeans. Tongues sliding hungrily, we kissed and moaned and groped while trying to shrink the nonexistent space between us. Her lips were full and soft, her body lush and yielding. I was all hard lines and painfully aroused. My balls had never been so tight, heat rushing my cock in fierce waves. My chest was the worst, a swirl of emotion cresting through me.

Ainsley wanted me. She’d been as frustrated as I had the past weeks, feeling our connection but not believing it was real. Dammit, it was real. It was wet mouths and breathy groans as our teeth bumped. Her fingers dug into my straining back muscles, her calf sliding around mine as if it could draw us closer. My knuckles chafed against the jagged bark.

A shriek from the playground had me jumping back, the outside world invading. Breathing hard, we watched a couple kids chase each other and giggle in an endless game of tag.

Ainsley unmolded herself from the tree and stood in front of me. She slipped her hands under the bottom of my T-shirt, letting her fingers trace my abs and the tops of my hipbones. “Where were we?”

I hissed out a strangled breath, each light brush of her fingers driving me insane. “You were throwing yourself at me.”

She snickered, a sexy rasp sizzling with want. “Consider me your personal blanket.”

Wrapping myself up in this woman sounded damn good. Her fingers continued stroking my stomach—up, down, side to side. My cock strained against my jeans, every muscle from my cheeks to my calves tensing. A blast of fire shot up my thighs. I clenched my jaw harder and flexed my quads, nearly spraining a muscle. It was time to slow things down. Savor the beauty before me. Not let things get out of hand.

Guiding her so the tree blocked us from the playground, I soaked her in. I touched her eyebrow, traced the smooth arch. She blinked, and her long lashes skimmed my palm. I felt that soft brush everywhere. I wanted to map every inch of her skin. I read her like braille instead, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the cupid’s bow of her lips, the tiny divot under her chin.

She flattened her hands on my stomach and shuddered. “Are we dreaming?”

“If we are, I’d rather not wake up.” Except the absurdity of our misunderstanding had me chuckling. “Can’t believe you thought I was gay.”

“Can’t believe you’re not kissing me right now.”

“Demanding.”

“More like undersexed.”

Ainsley and her bluntness. But like her, I still couldn’t fathom that we were standing here, her hands under my shirt, mine on her gorgeous face. The air snapping between us. We were like Ellie and Peter in It Happened One Night, but instead of a spoiled rich girl, I’d found myself a vegan fashionista with a love of crossword puzzles who’d upended my life. I looped my finger through the pink elastic holding up her hair, dragged it out, and tossed it on the ground.

A dangerous smirk lit her face. “I liked that accessory.”

“You’ll like my hands in your hair better.” Not giving her time to reply, I threaded my fingers through the thick, golden layers, caressing her scalp and giving the strands a gentle tug.

She groaned. “I definitely like that better, but you’re still not kissing me.”

A travesty in need of reform. Noses brushing, I took my time. Barely grazed my lips over hers, mimicking the movement of her lazy fingers—up, down, side to side. I licked the seam of her lips, coaxing them open for me. Languidly, I twirled my tongue around hers, sucked on her bottom lip, teasing us both with light nips. Like I’d fantasized doing. We traded heady moans. Maybe traded promises, too.

We’d spent the past six weeks talking and laughing, both hoping for more. Could be this was the start of something amazing.

Her hands sketched a path over my ribs and up my back, her strokes quickening. Our kiss deepened—wetter, hotter, more tongue and teeth. But we weren’t alone. I couldn’t pop the top button of her jeans and work my fingers into her panties. I couldn’t hoist her legs around my waist.

I kissed her softly on the corner of her mouth. “We should come up for air.”

Cheeks flushed, she blinked before focusing on me. “Sorry, did you say something?”