Page 16 of The Virgin Game Plan (Rules of Love 2)
“No. I just think . . . many do, and many guys do. I was surprised.”
“Ah, you said you were shocked.”
“I was. Let’s be honest. It’s unusual.”
“A bad unusual?” I ask, hoping she says no, hoping she’s good with this score.
“A very good unusual,” she says, dropping her purse on a table.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
She moves closer to me, pressing her body against mine.
“I like that you like unusual a whole helluva lot,” I murmur as I loop a hand around her waist, moaning softly at the lush feel of her body, the hint of her delicate flesh under her blouse. My fingers tease along her back right above her jeans.
“You didn’t answer the question,” she says, sliding her hands up my chest, spreading them over the fabric of my shirt.
I groan from her touch, from the curious and eager way she explores my body. “You love to ask questions.”
“I do,” she whispers, all sultry and enticing as she covers my pecs with those hands. “So, why are you not a hookup guy?”
“I prefer getting to know a woman,” I say, dipping my face to her neck, dusting my lips there as I inhale her scent. No perfume, no lotion or potion. Just that showery goodness, and it’s my kryptonite. “I prefer to have a connection. Everything’s sexier, better, more . . . real.” I press a kiss to the hollow of her throat. A needy gasp falls from her mouth. “And honestly, I’m not interested in being a playboy. It’s not my scene. It holds no appeal,” I tell her as I travel up the gorgeous column of her neck, savoring the sounds of her arousal, the rush of breath, the soft sighs.
“This is appealing though,” she says, all feathery light.
“So appealing,” I say as I catalog the way she responds, how her hips arch against me, how her hands grip my chest harder.
The way she moves makes me want to discover more of her. All of her.
I thread my fingers through those lush strands of her hair, giving it a quick tug.
“You’re a very interesting man,” she says, then travels back down, playing with my abs through my shirt but stopping there.
“Interesting is sexy,” I say.
“It’s very sexy,” she counters, her fingers close, so damn close to undoing my jeans.
The prospect of her hand dipping into my briefs, grabbing my cock, touching, stroking, is electrifying.
But I want to get her naked first. I slide my hands through her hair, let it fall through my fingers, then lift her chin. Meet her gaze straight-on. “This would be even more interesting if we were in bed,” I say in a low voice.
She shivers, all eager and desperate. “Yes. Bed. Now.”
I laugh as I trail my fingers down the bare skin of her arm. “Good. Because I have all sorts of plans for your body. Plans that involve you and a bed and many, many orgasms.”
She rewards me with a throaty moan. “Yes, please, yes.”
As I kiss the shell of her ear, my hand slides down the back of her jeans. Groaning, I make contact with the ass I admired on the steps. I curl my palm over the soft skin of her rear. She trembles, a desperate cry falling from those red lips.
“I want to undress you,” I rasp in her ear. “Spread you out on the bed so I can kiss you everywhere.”
Her knees wobble, and I wrap an arm tighter, squeeze harder. Hold on to the woman who’s rocking my world.
I pull back so I can meet her gorgeous blue eyes. Hers are glassy, lust drunk. “And I want to taste you. Feel you on my tongue.”
She shudders, her shoulders heaving, her breath stuttering. “Please, Holden,” she says, and the need in her voice undoes me even more. “I can’t take the teasing anymore.”
Good. That’s where I want her.
Desperate. Begging.
Needing.
I grab her hand, tip my forehead to the room that clearly has a bed, then guide her to it.
She flicks on a bedside lamp, which bathes the room in a soft glow. “I want to see your body.”
“The feeling is completely mutual,” I say, then we begin the slow seduction of taking off clothes.
I go first, undressing her.
Unbuttoning each black button on her blouse.
Touching her soft skin.
Savoring the way goose bumps rise in the wake of my fingers.
Sliding off the red fabric.
Letting it fall to the floor.
“My God, you’re stunning,” I say as I regard the beauty in front of me wearing a red lace bra. “Look at you. Still in your power color.”
She bites her lips, nodding. “Is it working?”
“I feel powerless in front of you,” I say, speaking from the truth of my bottomless desire for her.
Her eyes journey down my frame, landing on the outline of my cock through my jeans. “Funny, Holden. You don’t seem powerless at all.”
