Hard Fall (Trophy Boyfriends #2) - Sara Ney Page 0,57

wound me.” I clutch my chest. “No, your friend. Where’d she go? I would have thought she’d have her eagle eye on me. She doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

Or at all.

Hollis cranes her neck. Pulls her cell phone out of her pocket and checks it. “She left.”

She left? “How come?” I don’t know shit about women, but I know some shit about women, and her best friend said more than that.

Her shoulder rises in a demure shrug. “She said we looked serious so she wanted to give us privacy, and I should text her when you leave.”

Well, well, well—this is a new development. “Does that mean she semi-approves of me?”

A mean poker face stares back. “We haven’t discussed you.”

I think my eyes damn near bug out of my skull and I almost lurch across the table, belting out a laugh. “Who’s the liar now! Bullshit—you girls tell each other everything! There is no way Madison doesn’t have the entire 411 on me. No fucking way. You’re such a damn liar.”

Hollis’s stalwart expression breaks, a cute little snicker erupting from her throat. “I mean—maybe.”

I start to rise, unable to bear it. Now that I know we’re alone? I have to kiss her.

Shoving up from my chair, I move the table aside—an easy task since it’s basically tinfoil—and swoop down, scooping up a squealing Hollis.

“What are you doing! Put me down! Are you insane?”

“I’m trying to be romantic here. Cut me some slack and stop wiggling around before I drop you, ’kay?”

Her lips clamp shut. She nods.

Using my foot, I toe the sliding door open, pushing it on its track so we can get back into the house. Use my ass to slide it shut, stride a few feet back into the kitchen.

There’s a small sitting area on the far end, with a fireplace and a television, and in a few seconds I’m there, setting her on the couch. Lower myself to my knees in front of her and take her face in my hands.

“I’m sorry you had a shitty day, but I want to help make it better,” I croon, knowing my voice has dropped a few octaves.

She shivers. “How?”

I reach for the fly of her denim shorts, measuring her reaction as I tug down her zipper. Waiting for any indication she doesn’t want this.

Hollis tilts her head back and spreads her legs wider, arms hitting the couch cushions. Body sinking into the fabric.

From my position in front of her, I pull those shorts over her hips, down her thighs. Her smooth, smooth thighs…

Let them fall to the floor, give my attention to her underwear. It’s white, basic cotton—not what I was expecting, but sexy just the same.

She watches me, blushing. “I wasn’t expecting company.” Not quite an apology, but close.

“You could be wearing thermal underwear and I would be turned on right now.” I lean forward, pressing my mouth to her core. Kiss her stomach, inching my way down. Warm between the apex of her spread legs, blowing hot air right where she aches.

Hollis’s fingers clench the seat cushions.

“Everything you do is sexy, Hollis.”

She moans at that, opening her eyes to gaze down at me, pupils already dilating. Traps her lower lip between her teeth.

I put my mouth back on her, wetting her white granny panties with my tongue. Sucking and sucking and sucking, soaking them through.

“Oh my god, I’m wearing hip-hugger briefs,” she complains.

I laugh into the cotton panties, enjoying her embarrassment, enjoying the flush on her face and the labor of her breath, the smooth, silky skin of her thighs.

“I’ll buy you all the sexy underwear you want.”

I press my fingers into her flesh, flexing them, completely turned on and lost in the moment. I’m lost in discovering her body, granny panties and all.

She’s so fucking cute I could eat her up.

So I do.

17

Hollis

Is there a sight more intoxicating than that of a man with his head between your legs?

I plow my fingers through Trace’s hair, the thick, dark strands sifting through like sand, velvety and smooth. Smooth like the tongue lapping at my heat, slowly but firmly. Fast. Slow. In and out.

He sucks, using his teeth a little—not to the point of hurting, but just enough that I can feel it, the friction doing the craziest shit to my ovaries.

They quiver inside me.

I shiver.

His hands are on my thighs to hold them apart—yet another thing that drives me wild looking at it. Primal.

I’m not normally a visual person—I don’t watch porn and I don’t have