Page 99 of Playing to Win
I nod. “You don’t like it?”
Without warning, he lunges for me, making me gasp, taking me down so I land on the bed behind us, with him on top of me. His hands are everywhere at once, tickling me, making me laugh harder, but then he cups one breast, his big hand completely covering it and the laughter dies in my throat.
Swiftly replaced by a soft moan.
“Guess I only like it when you call me that,” he murmurs, his face in mine, so close I can feel his breath feather across my lips. “No one else.”
He lifts away from me before I can say anything, tracing the lacy trim of my bra with his index finger, gooseflesh rising on my skin. He does the same to the other breast, his barely-there caress making me squirm, wanting more. When he reaches for the clasp between my breasts and slowly undoes it, I breathe a sigh of relief.
This is what I’ve been craving since our last encounter. His hands on me. The delicious way his touch makes me feel.
Ace sweeps the cups away from my breasts with the back of his hand, dragging his knuckles across my hard nipples and I sink my teeth into my lower lip, my eyes falling closed when he does it again. He shifts his hand back and forth over my nipples so lightly, they start to ache with need.
“They really are pretty,” he murmurs, and I crack my eyes open to find him staring at my chest with longing. His gaze lifts to mine and his expression turns somewhat guilty. “I’m a tit man.”
“No kidding,” I tease.
He pinches my left nipple, making me hiss in a breath. “I’m also an ass man.” He slips his other hand beneath me and palms my ass, giving one cheek a squeeze. “And a leg man.”
“So you like all the parts.” My breath stalls in my lungs when he sweeps his hand down the outside of my thigh, making me quiver.
“Only your parts.” His smile is soft. Intimate. “I guess I’m a Ruby man.”
Oh my God. He shouldn’t say things like that. My heart is soaring out of my chest and my head is filled with all sorts of ridiculous thoughts.
Like what we share could turn into something real, which is impossible. I need to keep this moment light. Sexy.
“More like a Ruby fan?” I counter.
“Whatever you want to call it.” He leans down and brushes his mouth against mine, pulling away before I can really kiss him back. Such a tease. “I’m going to savor you tonight.”
His deep voice seems to vibrate right through me, leaving me breathless.
“Oh.” That sounds absolutely wonderful.
It also sounds like pure torture.
“I want to touch you everywhere.” He kisses my cheek, his hand sliding down to rest on my stomach. “Kiss you everywhere.”
I nod, needing to hear more.
“And after I make you come at least once, maybe twice, I’m going to fuck you.” He removes his hand from my stomach to rest it on my throat, his fingers curling around it lightly. “You want that?”
I nod, loving how he calls it fucking. No guy has said that to me before, and I know it’s a small thing, but it’s also a really hot thing. As in, it’s making me hot.
But I’m already so far gone for this man, he could call it boning and I’d probably find that sexy, when really? That word is most decidedly not.
His mouth finds mine once more and I lose myself in his deep, drugging kiss. Getting swept away by his searching tongue and persuasive lips. His hand is still clamped around my neck, his fingers exerting the slightest pressure and I close my eyes, savoring the sensation. His thumb rubs along my jawline. His other fingers streak across my throat. It’s sensory overload and I love it and I never want him to stop.
What makes it even better?
He’s doing this because he knows I like it and God, I do. I actually love it. It feels like he owns me and for some weird reason, that’s what I want. For Ace Townsend to claim me. Own me.
Completely.
We kiss for long, wondrous minutes, his hand eventually moving away from my neck to drift down the length of me. I’m trembling when he touches my breasts, his fingers playing with my nipples. Shivering when he touches my stomach, sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of my denim shorts. He undoes the button and slips the zipper down with ease, a whimper escaping me when I feel him touch the thin waistband of my skimpy panties and then he slides those magical fingers beneath the sheer fabric, sinking into me.
“Always so wet,” he murmurs against my lips. “Fucking love that about you.”
