Page 126 of Married to the Scottish Player
When we break again, he cups my face in both hands and murmurs, “What now?”
For the first time since this wild ride started, I don’t feel lost.
I knowexactlywhat I want.
“We go all in,” I whisper. “For real.”
Chapter 30
Maverick
“All in?” I can do that.
I can doher.
Her back’s against the edge of my desk, eyes wide, lips parted. My hand slides around her waist as I lift her, setting her on top of everything—my laptop, some unopened mail, an empty protein bar wrapper. Contracts. Proposals. A folder labeledPerformance Metricsthat’s about to becomeveryironic.
None of it matters now.
Shematters.
She came back.
She loves me.
Annabelle fucking loves me.
I kiss her. Hard. Hungry. A little unhinged? I feel like I’ve been holding back, and I don’t want to anymore. Not with her.
She kisses me back like she’s starving for it—pulling me closer, fingers in my hair, mouth open and eager and hot enough to melt all my good intentions into a puddle on the floor.
She tugs my shirt. I tug hers. It’s damp and sweaty—and kind of gross if I’m being honest—so I yank it over her head and toss ittowardthe door instead of letting it marinate next to us on the floor. It lands halfway across the room, where it belongs.
Her laugh is breathless—light, giddy, wrecked—and it only fuels the ache already coiled tight inside my chest. “You didn’t like that shirt?” she says as I lower her against the desk.
“I like you better out of it.”
Her fingers are impatient, tugging my shirt free, pushing, pulling, until it’s gone too. Somewhere behind her, something clatters off the desk and falls to the floor with athunk.
Neither of us gives a crap.
I kiss down the slope of her shoulder. The crook of her neck. Her fingers thread through my hair again, pulling, guiding, demanding, then gripping my dick in her hand and stroking it.
“You’ve been driving me crazy.” Hard as a fucking rock, I groan against her throat. “Since day one.”
She moans softly. “Good.”
God help us.
It’s all heat and skin and breath—her mouth at my jaw, her fingers at my back, my hands locked on her hips like they were carved just for me. The desk creaks under us, loud enough to make her laugh, and I swear it’s the most perfect fucking sound I’ve ever heard.
Every brush of her mouth saysI’m here.Every slide of her palm saysI want this too.
Pretty Annabelle . . .
Finally naked.
Thumb on her clit, I move it in small circles, priming her. Take my dick and line it up with her entrance ... slide into her slick heat.
