Page 89 of Flirting with Trouble

“Ohmygod.” She buries her face in my chest, laughing. “I can’t believe I said that.”

“I wonder what other benefits I can eke out of this.”

She tips her face up. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“There’s my bossy babe.” I kiss her lovingly, wanting her to feel my affection, not just my lust. But as happens so often with us, our passion takes over. I can’t get enough of her, and I know in my heart, I never will. That should scare the living hell out of me, but it doesn’t. I want more of us. I press my hand to her lower back, holding her tight against me.

“Mm,” she murmurs against my lips, gyrating her hips against my revived erection. “There are definite benefits to falling for a younger guy.”

I sweep her beneath me, and her hair falls away from her face. “There you are,” I whisper.

“You’re like an emotional ninja, slaying me with your charm.”

“I’d rather love you with my body than slay you at all.”

As I lower my mouth to hers, she whispers, “There you go again.”

I kiss her slowly and sensually. I slide my hand down her hip and lift her leg at the knee as our bodies come together. I feel her need in the catch of her breath, hear her emotion in the contented sigh as I bury myself to the hilt.

I brush my lips over hers, whispering, “I can’t get close enough. I want to be so close, you carry me with you wherever you go. Here.” I kiss her forehead. “And here.” I kiss the silky skin just above her heart.

A sweet smile appears, and she touches my face. “You did that weeks ago without even trying.”

Emotions billow inside me like an all-consuming wind as our mouths come together, and we find our rhythm, and the rest of the world fails to exist.

Victory

“I think I found my new favorite place,” I say, burrowing closer to Wells. I had wondered if being intimate would be awkward after everything I revealed to him, but we feel even more connected. Like everything I’ve gone through, worried about, and fought against has been leading me to trusting him with all my flaws and fears—leading me to this moment—all along.

“In my bed?” he asks.

“In your bed, your house, your arms.” I tilt my face up, and as he kisses me, my stomach growls.

“Sounds like I need to feed my girl.”

My girl. I love that. “I’ve been pretty stressed. I haven’t eaten today.”

“Then I’ll whip something up for us.”

We peel ourselves out of bed, and as I put on my underwear, he snags his T-shirt and carries it over to me buck naked. “Wear this.” He helps me put it on, and it tumbles to the tops of my thighs. “Perfect.” He leans in for a kiss.

I like wearing his shirt. It smells like him.

He’s pulling on his boxer briefs when his phone chimes. “I hope that’s not work.” He snags it from his jeans and reads the text. His jaw ticks as he thumbs out a response.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s Fitz. He knew you kicked me to the curb and heard about what happened at the bar. He’s just checking on me.”

I wince. “What did he say?”

He reads the text aloud. “‘I hear Vic showed up. Now you can finally stop crying into your pillow. Try not to blow it this time.’” His phone chimes in quick succession, and his brows knit. “Shit. It’s the group chat.”

“Why do you look like that?” I ask carefully.

“You sure you want to know?”

“Kind of,” I say, moving closer.