Page 93 of Crash Course

“Smart girl.” He angles me so I’m brushing the head of him. Then he’s pressing inside, one inch at a time. Gravity and angles are pulling me down on his cock.

We’re doing this. I’m not sure I believe it.

The expression on his face says maybe he can’t either.

God, the feel of him. The stretch, the fullness.

Finally, he’s all the way in.

I can’t move. Can barely breathe.

“Fuck, Townie.” His forehead presses against mine.

The edge of the dresser is going to leave a permanent line in my ass. He lifts me and carries me over to the bed, never breaking our connection.

He tugs down the duvet and sets me on the edge of the mattress—way more comfortable than the dresser—and follows me down until my back is pressed to the sheets.

Jameson starts to move, shallow at first. Then deeper.

“That’s it. So good.” He pins my right hand up by my head. My other hand digs into his back.

It’s like racing on the back of his bike.

It’s a million times better.

He’s chasing me, I’m urging him on, the only competition is our own unhinged need. His strokes are getting more intense, his breathing rougher. When he trails a finger down my stomach to between my legs, brushing my clit, I buck against him.

He rubs circles that mimic the rhythm of my hips.

The relief I’m craving is impossibly close. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t but he does change the angle, rocking into me so he hits me in entirely new ways. A few more strokes and my core pulls tight, pleasure destroying me with its blinding intensity.

His eyes are wide and wild, his dark lashes spiked from the shower.

Then he goes still too. His jaw clenches, his abs flex. Every part of him focused on me. Us.

It’s beautiful, watching him fall apart.

When he tugs me down on top of him on the bed, we’re a mess from the shower and our sweat. I study the patterns on the ceiling. “That was…”

“Overdue,” he finishes.

My lips curve as I lean my head against his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“That’s been on my mind way too long. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Didn’t help that you were everywhere I looked, and the drivers wouldn’t shut up about it. Knox’s had a thing for you since day one.”

I press up on one hand to look down at Jameson, my mouth forming an O. “You mean I could be in Knox’s bed right now?” I start to shift off the bed.

“Not funny.” He grabs my wrist and drags me back.

I land on my stomach on top of him. The chain around my neck pools on his chest.

“It was my mom’s,” I offer when he lifts the ring, turning it so he can read what’s inside.

He frowns. “You really don’t remember the crash?”

I shake my head as I think of how they died. “My dad doesn’t talk about it. Whoever was in the other car fled the scene, so there’s not much to know.”