Page 84 of ClickBack

She laughs. “That is unfortunate.”

“For you.”

“I keep getting to know you, and I keep thinking it.” Her thumb moves along my cheek. “Even tonight. I like you, Jarrett. You don’t have to win something first.”

I have no easy answer for that. She lets me sit with it, her hand still warm beneath mine.

“King,” she says softly.

I look at her.

“Don’t go ordering a throne.”

I start laughing. “You threatened me before I could say thank you.”

“I could see you considering it.”

“Come here.”

“I am between your knees.”

“Closer.”

She moves into me, and I kiss her. Her hand slides behind my neck. I keep mine at her face, wanting another kiss before I finish the first. When she shifts, her knee hits the cabinet.

“That’s it,” she says against my mouth. “The floor has had its moment.”

I get up and help her to her feet. She catches my shirt and stays close.

“Still mad?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Then you can be mad in the bedroom. I’m taking you out of this kitchen.”

“You sure?”

She raises her eyes to mine. “I came over because I wanted to spend the night with you. Cam didn’t change my mind.”

I kiss her again, and she takes my hand.

By the time we reach the bedroom she has my shirt halfway off. I finish it and let it fall, and her eyes travel over me with the same attention she gave my face on the kitchen floor. I catch the hem of her shirt. “Arms.” She lifts them. The shirt comes off, then the bra, and my hands fill with the weight of her breasts, her nipples pebbling against my palms, and when I lower my mouth to one dark bud, draw on it, and let my teeth graze it, her fingers dig into my shoulders.

She makes the decision for both of us when she catches my face and brings me back to her mouth.

“Jarrett.”

“I’m here.”

“I know.”

Those two words hit different tonight. I push her shorts and underwear down together and she steps out of them. I shed my own shorts, then get the condom from the nightstand and roll it down. When I turn back she is standing at the side of the bed, and I come up behind her. My hand rides her waist, her hip. I turn her toward the mattress, and she goes willingly, bracing both hands on the bed before she looks at me over her shoulder.

The look is enough.

I run my hand slowly down her spine, over the full curve of her ass, then between her thighs. She’s already slick, her lips swollen and slippery against my fingertips. The first pass of my fingers has her shifting her weight back toward me, and I take myself in hand and push into her slow, and her body tightens around the first stretch, and I stop with one hand firm at her hip.

She takes a breath, reaches back, and grips my thigh. “Come closer.”