Page 49 of Unforgettable Player

I swallow again. The sound is too loud. “What is your type?”

A pause before he answers. “Not sure.” He starts drawing circles on my chest over my t-shirt. My eyelids flutter. “Just know what it’s not.”

His thumb brushes over my nipple through the shirt and I gasp. The sound acts as an invitation for him to press himself closer, hold me tighter. His erection pressing insistently against my ass. If the gasp didn’t give away how turned on I am, then the sigh that follows leaves nothing to the imagination.

Connor starts kissing my hair.

I have to stop him. But every reason why I should tell him to stop escapes me. Why do I want to stop feeling this good? Why do I want Connor Ryan to stop kissing my hair and rubbing his cock against my ass?

Quick, find a reason. “I’m all sweaty,” I whisper.

“Don’t care.”

I push back, letting my body take over for a second. He groans as he grinds his cock against me.

“I like your sweat,” he whispers.

I sigh again, letting my head fall back. Connor brushes his lips down the back of my neck and keeps going until he can suck on the curve of skin where my neck meets my shoulder. We shouldn’t be doing this. I should tell him to stop. But it feels so good, it just…. He rolls his hips, his erection pressing into my crack through the shorts. A moan rips through me and I gasp.

“Stop.”

His whole body freezes.

We’re both panting. Sweat has my t-shirt stuck to my body. My cock throbs with the need to be touched. Connor stopped when I asked, but his hand is fisted in my shirt and his body is still pressed tightly against me.

“Tell me what you need,” he says into my hair.

It’s different from what he asked me last time, Tell me what you want.

When he words it like this—need—it feels different. Feels … I don’t know, less selfish.

“I need …” I know we won’t be interrupted in here, that my dad probably wouldn’t be roused even by the fire alarm, and that knowledge is terrifying. Makes it feel like I’m tottering on the edge of a cliff. Stones flaking off around my feet. And Connor’s behind me, holding me by the shirt, making sure I don’t fall.

He’s patient, his hand over my heart as it thuds like it’s about to break out of my chest. He strokes me with his thumb, planting tiny, innocent kisses in my hair. Waiting.

“I need to feel good.”

I expect him to maul me the second I admit it, but he doesn’t. He stills for a second before sliding his hand down to my stomach and lifting my shirt. My hot skin sings as it’s exposed to the cool air from the fan. My breath stutters as Connor’s fingers spread out over my bare skin and his lips find my neck again.

“I wanna make you feel good, Eli.”

“Oh, God,” I sigh.

“You deserve that.”

I roll my hips in time with him rutting against me. My eyes closed. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle seeing him do this to me.

“You, too.”

He sighs against my neck and I swear I feel him bite his lip as he grinds against me. I hook my leg over his thighs and give into the delicious friction.

“Connor,” I whisper, bringing my arm around to bury my hand in his hair. He moans against my neck.

I could come like this. Connor thrusting against me in his underwear, his hands and mouth on me, his smell in my nostrils. But I need more. If this is going to be the only time, I need more of him.

“Please.”

“Tell me.”