Penalty Play - Lynda Aicher Page 0,26

Nothing coy or embarrassed about it. Hell, the heat was creeping up his neck the longer he stared at the bag. He shifted again. Swallowed. “Right.” This was either going to be the best or worst sex ever.

“So. Do we?” The plastic crinkled when she shook it. “Need this?”

The song changed, a variation of the same beat with a different tune. It hummed over him, shoved at him to respond. Move. Do something.

“I have them,” he mumbled and motioned toward his bedroom. But the lube had always been for solo use. Did girls need it? Had he missed something important on that?

Entirely new nerves rushed up to press on his chest. He’d been having sex since he was sixteen, and absolutely no one had bothered to tell him girls needed lube? Where?

His eyes sprang open. Did she want anal sex?

Blood rushed to his dick at the inviting idea.

“Hey.” She was moving to him, concern clear. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He curled his fingers in tighter, hands still buried in his pockets.

She was close enough to kiss again. To examine the varying shades of brown in her eyes as she studied him. Chin lifted, brows lowered. So focused on him.

What did she see?

He didn’t dare move.

This had quickly become her show. Hell, it’d been her show since he’d met her. That was good though. It was better that way. Easier.

She lifted a hand to smooth a finger over his forehead. “Here.” She tapped lightly on his temple. “What’s going on in here?”

In his head? Fuck. She didn’t really want to know the answer to that. No one ever cared about what he was thinking. Not for real. They saw his size, what he did and dismissed his brain.

And he propagated their assumptions.

“I can see the tangents racing everywhere.” She brushed her fingers through his hair, curled them around his ear before trailing down his jaw.

Shivers followed in her wake, cascading down his neck to fade into his chest. Was he that transparent? If so, then how come no one else ever saw through him like she did?

She urged his hand out of his pocket, then laced her fingers with his. He should answer her. Say something, anything, yet he couldn’t form the words. They were all stuck in his chest behind the rock that’d settled there.

She backed up, her smile so gentle he gasped, a huge inhalation that filled his lungs and lifted the weight away. A quick glance around had her leading him to the open door of his bedroom. He followed her, his relief so big he almost stumbled over it.

The music trailed after them, filtering into his bedroom to cover the silence. The bass strummed a rhythm with the drums that supported the vocals, and he focused on the solid consistency. That was good. Nice. Had she known how much he hated the quiet?

She turned when she reached his bed, her smile still in place. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect.” He meant it too. Despite his fumbling reception, this was absolutely perfect. “Whatever you want.”

Her smile widened, a devious glint lighting her eyes. “Whatever I want?”

His dick twitched and his breath caught. “Absolutely.”

She dropped his hand to run her palms up his hips and glide under the hem of his sweater. “Then I want this off.”

He moved automatically, jerking his sweater over his head to toss it aside. The appreciation in her gaze wasn’t exactly new. Others had praised his body, but her lingering touch took the approval further.

She grazed her fingers down the bulge of his obliques then up his abdomen, which clenched and rippled at the delicate sensation. She spread her palms over his ribs, raised them up to glide across his chest, eyes never wavering in their focus.

“Smooth.” The soft comment was spoken more to herself than him, but he followed it.

“Scandinavian heritage.” His heavier beard led most to think his chest hair would be just as thick.

“I like it.” She skimmed her nails over his nipples, the sharp edges sending jolts racing south to his hardening erection. He sucked in a breath, and she repeated the action, scraping back and forth until they were both hard, sensitized nubs.

“I like that,” he almost purred, arching into her touch. Holy hell. How come no woman had ever touched his nipples before? He knew to play with hers, but the return had never happened.

Her smile sizzled over his skin when he focused back on her, chest heaving. “Sit,” she ordered, nodding to the bed. He complied without question. He really

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