Page 81 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
There are no words to describe kissing Garrett Reed in the snow.
I don’t know how long we stand there, making out against a brick wall, and my body seems to keep getting hotter and hotter despite the cold weather. And as wonderful as kissing him is, it’s starting to feel like enough, and the clothes that are keeping us from freezing our asses off are increasingly starting to feel like annoying barriers. I want to be chest to chest, hip to hip, mouth to mouth. I want to feel his skin warm against mine.
Garrett’s hands move restlessly over my back before they slide forward to rest against my rib cage, moving upward over my breasts just briefly, and we both moan. He mutters an oath as he pulls his hands back to safer territory since we’re outside where anyone could see us, but it’s too late. Now I want his hands everywhere.
I want to know Garrett’s body as well as I know his laugh and his shoulder roll and the kindness he tries so hard to hide behind his cocky grin.
I just want Garrett.
I frown in protest when he pulls back, both of our breaths visible in the cold night air. For a split second I’m terrified that I’m no good at this kissing thing, but then he smiles. “I want to do this all night, Annie, but damn it . . . it’s cold.”
I laugh a little, my hand reaching behind me for the doorknob, even as I lift on my toes to give him one last kiss.
“We could go back to your place,” I say softly, my mouth pressed against his. “Make out.”
His teeth nip my lip. “And here I thought you were a good girl.”
“Oh I am,” I say, a little breathless as his lips find my neck. “But I could use a night off.”
“Annie,” he says, grabbing my hand before I move away. “Does this mean Operation Get-a-Boyfriend was successful?”
My heart flips over. “Depends. You applying for the job?”
“Yes. Now offer me the position.”
I let out a pretend sigh and drag him back into the warm hallway. “Garrett Reed, will you be my boyfriend?”
He grins, and I melt. “Hell yes. Anners.”
About the Author
LAUREN LAYNE writes contemporary romance for Grand Central Publishing (Forever) and Random House (Loveswept), as well as new adult for Random House’s Flirt line.
Lauren graduated from Santa Clara University with B.S. in political science that she has yet to put to good use. After dabbling in an e-commerce career, she decided to quit talking about writing and actually do it.
A Seattle native, Lauren’s also tried on the Bay Area, Orange County, and Manhattan for size. She’s currently writing from the Pacific Northwest, but is always looking for the next place to call home. Texas? The South? New England? Suggestions welcome.
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Two in the Morning
RONI LOREN
One
THERE WERE THREE things I knew for sure as I lay in the dark of my cinder-block cell of a dorm room.
One: I shouldn’t be awake.
Two: I definitely should not be listening to my roommate round second base with Cami/Cassie/Chloe, or whatever her C-name was.
And, three: I should not be sporting the monster of all hard-ons from all those deep, growly sounds Malcolm kept making.
Goddamn it.
I needed to turn over. I needed to face the window and my desk and the stack of physics textbooks instead of the wall with the closet and the narrow full-length mirror that was giving me just enough view of movement to make me feel like some creeper. But I was afraid if I flipped over, I’d alert them that I was awake. I closed my eyes and tried to block it all out, but the girl’s muffled giggle and then kissing sounds made it hard to ignore.
My gaze flicked over to the mirror again, and there was a flash of Malcolm’s bare shoulders as he shifted what’s-her-name beneath him. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. Hell, I’d seen Malcolm in the locker room every damn day during soccer season in high school, but something about seeing him like this was altogether different. It made me want things I shouldn’t. It made me want to tell him.
