The Hook Up (Game On 1) - Page 96

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“Not today.” My voice is unsteady, as I fight off a picture of his chest all wet and glistening, of running my tongue along the groove in his abdomen, right down the happy trail of dark hair that leads to his thick—

“Spoil sport.” He sighs. “Though I’m guessing we’d end up on our asses when I’m in this condition.”

Blinking rapidly to clear my dirty mind, I reach over and grab the garbage bag and surgical tape I’ve set on a shelf. “Speaking of…” I hold them up and give his leg a pointed look. While the doctor said Drew could get his cast wet, it will take hours to dry off and won’t be comfortable for him.

“Kinky.” Keeping his eyes on mine, he hooks his thumbs on the waist of his shorts and eases them off, revealing those long, strong legs of his and the weighty c**k that has brought me so many hours of pleasure. I swallow hard. I’ve missed this part of him too. He’s already growing thicker, his c**k curving as it begins to rise under my stare.

With effort I raise my gaze up to his face, which is currently wearing a smug yet hot expression. I give him a level look. “Behave.”

“What?” He’s all innocence. “I’m taking a shower here, Jones. Kind of have to get na**d to do that.”

“Whatever.” And because I can be a tease too, I kneel down before him, my face inches from the heat of his cock. It twitches, the musky scent of him filling my nostrils. I look up at him, my smile sweet. “Lift your leg.”

A pulse visibly beats at the base of his throat as he gazes down at me. Slowly he lifts his cast-covered leg an inch. The garbage bag rustles as I ease it under his foot and begin to pull it over him. Drew’s flat abdomen lifts and falls in a steady, quick cadence.

His leg is so long, the bag barely makes it to the top of the cast. With quick movements, I wrap the ends up with surgical tape, not missing the way his c**k is now standing proud and waiting. Longing fills me. I know how he will taste, salty and sweet, how he will feel against my tongue, heavy and firm. Instead, I look into his eyes. “There now, all set.”

Drew swallows audibly, his h*ps canting just a bit as if he can’t help it.

“You love torturing me, don’t you?” His voice is a husky whisper, barely heard over the steady rush of the shower.

I lick my dry lips, noting the way his breath catches as I do. “It’s only fair, you know.”

“Why is that, Jones?” But he knows. I can see it in his eyes, those f**k me eyes that both challenge and make promises.

I cup his ass, that fantastically firm ass that features prominently in so many of my dirty dreams. My finger strokes his little battle axe tattoo, and his nostrils flare in a sharply drawn breath.

“Because,” I say, “you only have to be standing there to torture me.”

“You’ve just made countless painful hours of exercise worth it.” A teasing note lightens his tone but shadows creep into his eyes. Drew doesn’t work out to impress people. His body is a tool, finely honed to perform at the optimum level. And now it’s broken. I know he’s fighting off the fear and has been since the sack.

My knees protest as I rise. On my way up, I pause and kiss the smooth, hot tip of his cock, and he hisses. Before I’m fully standing, he cups my neck and pulls me in. His biceps bulge as his arms bend, and then his mouth is on mine, his kiss tempting me with little licks, soft sucks, and sharp needy breaths. His c**k pokes my belly as I lean into him, and I’m so hot, so wet that I nearly forget why this is a bad idea.

He sways on his feet, the long length of his body threatening to topple. I pull back. “Drew…”

He doesn’t let me go but sighs. “All right, all right. I’ll be good for now.” His eyes meet mine, and I see the heat in them. “But you’re going to pay for that one, Jones.”

“I’ll be waiting for it, Baylor.” Tenderly, I kiss his mouth, lingering just enough to have him follow when I pull away. I smile at him. “Now, take your shower.”

He gives my upper lip a soft nip before backing away. “Heartless wench.” And then, before I can change my mind and grab him, he hobbles into the shower and stands under the spray.

No, I will not watch. I will not. My mouth goes dry. Those fine muscles are defined by taut skin, all slick and shining. Water runs in rivulets off of his still half-hard cock. I suck in a breath and close the door on his knowing laugh.

Fleeing to the relative safety of Drew’s room, I pull back the covers on the bed and arrange the pillows so he can lie comfortably. It feels good doing this for him, yet anticipation bumps around in my belly. I am going to sleep here with him. I’ve done so before. Though never like this, never planned and without the promise of sex. I prefer this way, knowing that I’m here because I simply want to be with him. Letting go frees me more than I thought possible.

I’m smiling as I catch a glance in the mirror, then halt in horror. My hair has a fuzz factor of ten.

“Holy hell.” Mad snarls stand out around my head. I’m like a girl version of freaking Carrot Top. And I’ve been flirting with Drew like this. I almost moan, but stifle it when I hear the shower stop.

I grab my toiletries bag as he comes into the room.

Drew, of course, does not bother with a towel. No, he’s perfectly fine limping in butt-naked and giving me a cheeky grin.

“I’m taking a shower,” I say as I edge past him, dying to hold down my maniacal hair.

He raises an irate brow. “Then why didn’t you shower with me?”

Tags: Kristen Callihan Game On Young Adult