Page 67 of The Path to Loving Him
And not just because it was a long time before her that I had sex, but because I feel alive when I’m inside her.With her.Everything about her is like a siren call to me. She’s athletic, mouthy, witty—even when I try to ignore those things. Pretty doesn’t even touch her beauty.
My body screamswant, want, want.
Even though my brain saysrun, run, run.
“So you in?” Her fingers dance along my chest.
“Yeah,” I say, making her smile.
Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.
Why didn’t I recognize her?
She’s Bennett Brinkman’s sister. I know I talked to her a few times. Why didn’t I feel this clawing ache that I feel now whenever she’s around? Why didn’t I notice her before?
And why can I push past my anger and the irritation of the situation for another moment in time with her?
Am I really that easy?
Or am I really that attracted to her?
She shifts on my lap, her teeth pulling on the corner of her mouth . . . yeah, I’m really that attracted to her.
She drags her fingers from my temple to my cheek as she says, “I’ll go first. Answer this question, and I get to play with you.” She leans forward and says in a whisper, “Favorite movie.”
“Favorite movie? That’s what you’re going to ask me?”
She nods. “There’s a lack of communication and knowledge about each other, so we might as well fix that.”
“You think knowing each other’s favorite movie will help that?” I raise a brow.
“I don’t know, Ryland.” Her hands claw over my pecs and across my nipples. “You tell me.”
I suck in a sharp breath, and because I want her so fucking bad, I decide to play along. “That would beThe Perfect Gamewith Kevin Costner.”
She pauses and looks me in the eyes. “Really?” It’s my turn to nod. “That’s mine too.”
I lift a brow. “Don’t fuck around.”
“I’m not,” she says as she shifts off my lap and tugs on my hand, pulling me up from the chair. “Clear the mechanism. It’s what I used to say to Bennett when he’d go up to bat.” She brings me to the living room and turns toward me. “I’m assuming since you were drinking, Mac’s not here.”
“She’s not.”
“Good.” She then slips her hands under the waistband of my joggers and briefs and drags them down, my hard-on springing forward. I step out of my clothes, and she pushes me back onto the couch. “Now, for my reward.” She lowers to her knees, but I stop her.
When she glances at me, worry in her eyes, I say, “That’s truly your favorite movie?”
“Yes,” she says. “I’m not going to lie, Ryland.”
“You have before.”
I can see the hurt in her eyes when I say that, but I’m not sorry because it’s true. She’s lied before, so how can I trust what she says is the truth?
“It’s different now,” she says. “You have my word that I won’t lie again.”
For some reason, I believe her because of the way she’s looking at me and the truth coming from her expression.
“Okay,” I say with a nod.
