Jock Row

They were carved out of marble.

Jesus, he’s so ripped and cut in all the right places I don’t know what to touch or stroke first.

Greedy. Selfish.

My hands find the light smattering of chest hair on his pecs. I sweep over it with the pads of my fingers; my selfish palms slither over the solid, brawny muscles of his clavicle. Brush over his hard nipples with the pads of my thumb. Rest on his ribcage, caressing there, too.

“Don’t,” he warns into my mouth. “I’m ticklish.”

I’m such an asshole. I tickle near his arm pit.

“How ticklish?” I murmur, daring to torment him.

“Ticklish enough that I’m three seconds from picking you up and tossing you to the floor.”

My breath quickens. Picking me up and tossing me to the floor? How exciting.

“Is that so?”

I wiggle my finger under his pit, taunting the caged tiger, practically daring him to haul me up and do whatever nefarious things he’s going to do to me on the ground in the middle of the room.

Do it.

Do it, I dare him.

My heart accelerates at the thought; I’ve never made out with anyone so totally male before, making all the guys before him nothing but boys.

Rowdy could lift me in one motion as if I weighed nothing, and I want to see him do it, desperately.

“Are you testing my patience on purpose, Scarlett?”

I nod. “How strong your self-control?”

“Right now? Shitty.”

“Good.” I tip my chin, giving him access to nuzzle it. Lick it if he wants.

“You want me to toss you on the floor?”

Another nod and my lips part. “Yes.”

“How bout I do you one fuckin better?”

Fuckin’ do me better.

Sterling’s mammoth palms firmly grope my hamstrings before his arms brace and he stands, hoisting me up. Lifts me, as if I’m weightless, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

God he’s sexy, lips and teeth still lapping me up. Mouth on my neck, sucking at my collarbone.

Instead of laying me on the floor as he threatened, he takes three long strides, stalking across the carpeted floor, pressing my back flat against the living room wall.

Bracing me between him and the kitchen.

His erection digs into the apex of my thighs through his pants, and with slow controlled movements, Sterling hovers me over his cock, working me up and down over his jeans until we’re dry humping against the wall. Kissing. Making out like teenagers, devouring each other.

Rowdy squeezes my ass every so often, our tongues mating. Fucking, really.

Dirty.

I can’t get my mouth open wide enough; this kiss is the best one I’ve ever had, messy and wet—so wet I’ll probably have to wipe my mouth off when we’re done, but I don’t care. I’m delirious with want and need, dirty and delicious tension making us frantic.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what it would be like to kiss Sterling Wade since the minute I walked out onto that porch with him, lying if I said I hadn’t thought about those mammoth baseball player hands rubbing on my body.

They’re huge. They’re fantastic.They’re gripping my bottom, grasping my butt cheeks. Sliding up my ribcage, around my slender frame to cup my breast through the fabric of my tank top.

I’m so glad I’m not wearing a bra.

“Mmm,” I moan.

This kiss is everything, and I will remember it for the rest of my life.

I groan into his mouth when his hands firmly grip my body, holding me steady as if I weigh nothing. Moan again when his tongue does that sexy twirly rolling thing against mine. Draws my bottom lip into his mouth, nipping.

I pant when his teeth drag along my throat and his mouth sucks at my neck.

This kiss is everything…

Everything.

His mouth checks my vitals, sucking on the throbbing pulse in my neck, slowly driving me mad and probably giving me a hickey. I don’t even care; I’ll cover it with makeup.

I love it.

Love his mouth and tongue and rough, grasping hands.

This is more than a first kiss. This is us losing ourselves in each other, an out-of-body experience. For once in my life I don’t want to be cautious. I want to throw caution to the wind.

I want him as much as he wants me.

But not against a wall. Or on the dirty carpet of my college rental. Or when we’ve been drinking.

I meet his wild, half-hooded eyes. Stare down at his puffy lips, running the tips of my fingers along the bowed top of his mouth, tracing the curve.

He parts his lips, tongue flicking the pad of my forefinger.

Then, I bring a hand to my own mouth, replicating the motion, pressing gently.

It’s tender.

Thoroughly kissed.

“Scarlett, let’s go to the bedroom.” He continues to kiss along my jaw.

God I want to—I want to so bad.

But I’m not spontaneous, and no matter how hot my body is—the fire inside blazing from head to toe—I’m not the kind of girl who’s going to have sex on a whim because it feels good.

“If we go into the bedroom, Sterling, we won’t stop.”

“You want to stop?” His expression is incredulous.

“I don’t want to…but we should.”

Rowdy still has me pressed against the wall, pelvis and cock digging into my crotch. He licks my cleavage, right in the valley between my breasts. “I want you to know, I have no problem playing the long game with you, just so you know what you’re up against.”

I’m dazed. “The long game?”

“I can wait you out, Scarlett Ripley.”

Wait me out. “What does that mean?”

“If you’re saying there’s even a chance of letting me inside your tight, wet pussy, I’m willing to wait until you’re ready.”

Jesus, his mouth is filthy.

I love it.

Warm heat floods my stomach, pooling in my lower abdomen.

“You’re so fucking…” He’s practically growling, sexual frustration clenching his control like a fist. “Look, okay…I just need a second.”

Even when he blows out an unsatisfied puff of air, releasing the pent-up tension from his lungs, it’s sexy. Watching this self-composed man come undone is…

Powerful.

“I’ve literally never had this conversation with anyone in my entire life,” he grumbles, the baritone of his voice reverberating deep. “My balls aren’t going to be blue, they’re going to turn purple.”

I kiss the corner of his mouth, in no hurry to be put back on the ground. “Never have I ever had a sex talk before I tried sleeping with someone.”

We kiss in lieu of drinking alcohol, still drunk on one another.

“You’d rather just rip all your clothes off and screw?” I ask when we come up for air.

“It’s always been easier than talking.”

“We’re being responsible.”

He grunts. “I guess, but doesn’t planning sex take the fun out of it?”

I wouldn’t have a clue. “Doesn’t anticipation give us something to look forward to?”

He considers the question. “What if the sex is crap after all this buildup?”

“What if it’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” I tap him on the nose. “Just something to think about.” Tilt my head, studying him as he holds me up as if I weigh nothing. “Have you ever done that? Not just had random sex?”

“I had a girlfriend once, my freshman year.”

He had a girlfriend? This surprises me and my brows go up.

“Oh yeah? What happened?” I try to keep my tone causal, but our breathing is labored and it’s difficult. Lean in to kiss his strong jaw.

“The team happened.” He hoists me, readjusting my weight, mouth below my ear. “The pressure, the—”

“Groupies?”

“No. I was going to say I was away too much. She didn’t like it.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?”

“Nothing.”

He sets me on the ground, gazing down into my eyes. “Not nothing. What were you going to say?”