Page 52 of Striker
He moved in and out of her easily, the abrasion of his rough knuckles an erotic contrast to his soft touch, driving her wild. “At-las,” she crooned, her voice broken. Pleasure filled every inch of her body.
His thumb touched her clit and her toes curled. She arched her back, a cry catching in the back of her throat. He pumped his fingers into her, pulling every ounce of her orgasm from her core. She shuddered, her muscles twitching, and her knees parted as wide as her leggings allowed.
More pressure on her clitoris made the last rush of her wetness burst from her loins. His mouth swallowed the moans that escaped, silencing her detonation.
Wetness made every gentle movement of his hand slippery. Her body went lax and he eased his fingers from her pants.
“Oh my god.” She swept her hand down his back.
He kissed her lips one more time. “That’s a preview of what’s to come tonight.”
She frowned. “I thought you wanted sex. I mean, right now.”
He chortled. “I always want sex with you, Molly. But there’s no way I can contain myself for the sake of your dignity with my friends in the living room.”
“I tried to tell you,” she said with a laugh.
He kissed her temple. “That’s okay. Later, we’ll both have a turn.”
Molly covered her face with her hands, a smile warming her cheeks.
He snagged her wrist and peeked beneath her fingers. “Why’re you hiding?” A playful smile lightened his eyes.
She dropped her hands away. “I’m not hiding. I’m just trying to figure out where the hell you came from.”
His face stilled. “I’ve wondered that about you, too.” He bounced an eyebrow. “I’ve also wondered how you’re single.”
She chortled. “Well, for starters, I don’t get out much. Plus, I’ve only been in Panama for six months.”
“People find love in a lot less time.” His tone was rough and thick, filled with . . . meaning?
No, he was just stating the obvious. “I haven’t met anyone recently who’s worth dating. I didn’t?—”
He slapped a hand to his chest. “Jesus, Molly. Way to wound a guy.”
She patted his leg. “You know what I mean.”
Atlas was definitely worth dating. Worth getting to know.
Worth loving.
More importantly, he made her feel she was worth all those things, too.
“All right. As long as you don’t have a boyfriend waiting for you back in Illinois, maybe I can convince you to date me.” A lopsided grin turned up his lips.
Butterflies swarmed inside her belly and her heart flipflopped. “No boyfriend.”
He frowned. “Have you ever had a serious relationship?”
“Kind of. At the time, I thought I was in love. But it was a toxic situation and he was an ass. Now I’m grateful I caught him cheating with my friend, Becky—in our bed—so I could move on.”
His face pinched with anger. “You serious? Fucking bastard.”
“Yup, Brad most certainly was.”
“Is that what brought you to Panama?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe in a way. After we broke up and I moved out, he wanted me back. I’d moved in with my parents, and he kept sending me flowers, stopping by, things like that. His attempts dwindled over the months, until I’d get only a random text or voicemail from him, clearly drunk. So no, I didn’t leave because of Brad, but I wanted to start fresh and put distance between home and me.”
