Her rose gold MacBook is open and cradled on an arm, her Mickey Mouse-printed Beats hang around her neck, and she has on a pair of black-framed glasses that give me all kinds of librarian fantasies.
If that isn’t enough to have me shifting in my seat, the fact that she’s still wearing that boner-inducing outfit is. Those tiny shorts show off her legs to perfection and come to a stop just under the curve of her ass, and the tank top exposes her toned belly and generous cleavage. They may be meant for comfort, but they look like sex.
She places her laptop down next to mine on the table, pats Trident on the head, and moves to the fridge while continuing her conversation on the phone held in her other hand.
“You’re the one who likes to battle it out with Sammy over who my bestie is, not me.”
From one sentence, I deduce she’s on the phone with Ryan, and my inner caveman can’t help but smack his club upon witnessing yet another exchange between her and the hockey player. I know it’s irrational, but I can’t help it. Maybe if he wasn’t such a good guy, I wouldn’t feel so threatened, but he had years with Maddey in a way I’ve only ever dreamed of.
She’s quiet as she listens to whatever the hockey captain says, pushing the glasses onto the top of her head like a headband. I drag my gaze away from her before I start kissing her again. I’m in serious trouble because watching her do something as mundane as heating up lunch has me growing harder behind my zipper.
My eyes fall to the lit screen of her computer, and I can’t help but take a peek at what she’s been working on.
He groans, his eyes falling shut at the feel of my skin. I’m completely bare, no underwear to be found to avoid panty lines. Another groan when he realizes this, his grip on my ass tightening as he follows the line of my crack.
“Fuck, Princess.” Lower and lower he travels. “You were naked under here all night?”
He buries his face in my neck, my body arching into him, rubbing against the hard-on now digging into my stomach.
“Panty lines don’t really go with this look.” I wave a hand down my body, but he doesn’t see it because he’s too busy raking down the pulsing vein in my neck with his teeth.
“Panty lines,” he growls, his grip on my ass close to bruising.
“Jasper.” Now I’m the one moaning, my head canting to the side to give him better access, my hands coming up to clutch at his lapels.
What the hell is happening?
What am I doing?
Shut up and just go with it. I think I need to start taking applications for a new inner bitch.
I say this, but do I stop him as he continues to travel south? No. Nor do I protest when he brushes my entrance.
“Fuck you’re soaked.” Each guttural word rumbles through me with a direct line to my clit, only adding to the situation he’s discovered.
“N-Noble.” A warning? A plea? I’m not sure.
Everything about me is one giant exposed nerve. My racing heart, my constricting lungs, the way my skin crawls at the thought of him touching me—all while feeling like I’m going to burst out of it if he doesn’t.
“Jasper,” he commands.
“Wh-what?” I wheeze.
“My name is Jasper. Say my name, Princess.” He bites my pulse point, flicking his piercing against it.
My knuckles turn white with my tightening hold.
Say his name, say his name, my inner bitch sings, like she’s Destiny’s Child.
“Say it, Princess.”
I press my lips together.
“Say it and you’ll get a reward.”
God, his words are like liquid sex.
Come on, Savvy. We love presents. Say his name.
How am I supposed to formulate words when the only thing I can focus on is the tap-tap-tap of his finger on my most sensitive area? He’s toying with me. With his words, his touch—his presence is one big tease.
Saaaaaaavyyy, Bitchy whines.
I roll my eyes. Fine.
“Jasper.”
I barely get out the last syllable before his finger plunges into me, the coming-from-behind angle delicious.
What am I doing?
I don’t know, but hell if I want it to stop.
I give in. Shoving away the doubts, the worries that this is wrong, I give in to my wanton desires.
I wrap my arms around his neck, rising onto my toes to get closer to him.
Pump.
Pump.
Pump.
My pussy flutters, the walls of it doing their best not to let him go.
“Princess.”
His hips rock forward.
“Jasper.”
Mine rock back, riding his finger.
“Princess.”
His hand fans out, another digit brushing my clit and his thumb stretching to press the rosebud of my ass.
It’s naughty and dirty and if it’s wrong, I don’t want to be right.
Mo—
The sound of Maddey’s laughter pulls me out of the daze I fell into, sucked into the story she told.
I blink. Not quite sure what it is I just read, but there are a few things I know to be true.
1. It was hot as all fucking hell.
2. I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my life.
3. Maddey and I will be reenacting it—the sooner the better.
I’m about to dive back in when I pick up on her side of the conversation.
“I need your help to break my writer’s block on this scene, Ry.”
The fuck?
Hold up. Time out. Writer’s block?
My heartbeat quickens, every hair on my body standing on end, and the calm tunnel vision I’m only accustomed to feeling while staring down the barrel of my sniper rifle washes over me.
Writer’s block? Writer’s fucking block? She wants Ryan’s help to break it in the middle of a sex scene? Over my dead fucking body.
My chair hits the floor with a bang, falling over from the force of me pushing out of it, and Trident barks at the sudden noise.
Startled blue eyes blink at me, and distantly I register her saying goodbye and hanging up as I close the distance between us with long strides.
No more messing around. Maddey is mine, and it’s time I make that crystal clear.
I grab the back of her neck, squeezing with just enough pressure to have her pushing up on her toes to comply with my tug toward me. Her hands land on my chest for balance, but it’s not necessary since I wrap my other arm around the small of her back and anchor her to me.
I slam my mouth down onto hers in a brutal kiss, this one making last night’s claiming seem like a peck in a middle school game of spin the bottle.
My name is smothered as I thrust my tongue inside.
There are still so many things we have to figure out—her brothers, her stalker, my job, the fact that I live in Virginia Beach and she’s in Jersey—but we can worry about all that as a couple.
This isn’t some casual, we’ll fuck while I’m here then move on with our lives like it never happened type thing.
Chapter Thirty
I have no idea what is happening. One minute I’m upstairs, doing a reread on a scene where my badass heroine submits to one of her bully-ish heroes, and the next Dex is kissing me—again.
I remember at some point between those two things, I called Ryan about getting access to The Ice Box—the arena that’s home to the Blizzards—to help me work through some hockey writer’s block I’ve been having, but I can’t recall the minute details.