Hard Fall (Trophy Boyfriends #2) - Sara Ney Page 0,43
balls.” Her hands explore, feebly feeling along my calves. Knees. “Oh! Is this you?”
“Yeah that’s me.” I hold my breath as her hands roam. Searching but not really, because she knows she’s found me, and if she’d just sit there, I could hand her the shorts. They’re still suspended above the floor, in my waiting fist.
I almost forgot for a second that she’s not wearing clothes—why she hasn’t put her shit back on is beyond me. If she’s trying to gross me out, it’s not working. It’s the opposite of working.
Still, I don’t say the magic words: Hollis, I have your shorts in my hand. Hold still and I’ll give them to you.
Nope.
I want to see what she does instead, and maybe get a kiss or two from her in the process. You gonna fault a guy for hoping? It could happen!
I wish.
Rather than asking for the bottoms, Hollis puts her hands on my chest. Carpet. Patting the spot beside me, then leaning forward and yanking the bedspread off the mattress, dragging it to the floor.
“What’d you do that for?”
“I’m cold.”
“Then put your clothes back on.” Number one on the list of things I’ll never say again.
She doesn’t listen, hunkering down beside me and pulling the blanket up, over her shoulders, and since I’m cold too, I snag a corner. “Mind if I steal some of this?”
When she throws the comforter over my legs and scoots closer, my brain spontaneously combusts from the skin-on-skin contact. Our legs are touching! She is touching my leg with her leg!
“You know what I think would be fun?” She’s whispering now, tentatively, words leaving her lips at an excruciatingly slow pace.
“I could think of a thousand things that would be fun. Do you mean right now, or like—tomorrow?”
She laughs. “Right now.”
“Um.” I can think of a thousand things that would be super fun right now, but I highly doubt they’re the same things she’s got in her mind. “What?”
“When…” Hollis clears her throat. “Is the last time you…”
She stops.
“The last time I…?” What? The last time I what? THE LAST TIME I WHAT! SPIT IT OUT, HOLLIS, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
The last time you went streaking in your parents’ yard? The last time you played twenty questions? The last time you made shadow puppets?
What?
After a long, torturous silence, “Never mind.”
I stare up at the ceiling, unable to see it but scowling just the same. I wanted to know what she was going to say, but I’m not going to press her.
I shrug in the dark. “Suit yourself.” Or tell me. Whatever.
The quiet room is deafening. My hands? Lying next to my sides, my head resting on a flat pillow my mother needs to replace, pronto.
This floor sucks even harder now that Hollis has joined me. What is she doing, trying to kill me with her close proximity? Knowing her, she is. She loves fucking with me, that much is obvious.
“Trace?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t you feel like we’re doing something we shouldn’t? I feel like a teenager sneaking around your parents’ house.”
That makes me smile. “It does kind of feel like that, in a way, but not really.” I never brought girls home in high school—never really dated anyone, not that girls didn’t chase me. I might have been a walking, talking hormone, but my parents were strict, and I needed a baseball scholarship, so that was the only thing on my mind as a teenager. Not sneaking girls into the house, or having them over and copping a feel while Mom was in the kitchen preparing snacks.
“Feels taboo,” she adds.
“We’re not doing anything but lying here.” As my dick would so helpfully like to point out, lying flat against my thigh, limp and defeated.
“No, we’re not.” Pause. “But…”
“But what?”
“What if…”
My dick twitches curiously. “What if…what?”
Hollis repositions herself so she’s facing me now, resting on her hip and elbow, breasts brushing against the blanket. I can’t feel them but I can feel them, if you catch my drift.
“Wouldn’t it be fun if we…I mean, since we’re both awake…”
“If we what? Fucked?” Little Buzz puffs out his dick chest.
“Pump the brakes—I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
Yet. She said yet, which means she’s planning to, which means there’s a snowball’s chance in hell.
“What if we, like…dry humped. Kept it old school. You know how we—”
I grab her and pull, hauling her atop me, still wrapped in her blanket. “Yup, I’m game. Let’s dry hump. Fantastic idea.”
Hollis is laughing, quietly gasping for air, hands on my chest, straddling me now,