The Deal

“You’re so beautiful,” I mumble, unable to take my eyes off her.

I start to move, dying to go slow and make it last, but I’m painfully aware of our surroundings. A Good Samaritan—or worse, a cop—might spot the Jeep and think we need roadside assistance, and if they decide to approach us, they’ll get an eyeful of my bare ass, see my hips pumping and Hannah’s arms clutching my back.

Besides, in this position, it’s hard to maneuver. All I can manage is fast, shallow strokes, but Hannah doesn’t seem to mind. She makes the sexiest noises as I move inside her, breathy sighs and shaky whimpers, and when I hit this one certain spot inside her, she moans so loudly I have to clench my ass cheeks to stop from coming. I can feel the orgasm hurtling toward me, but I want her to come, too. I want to hear her cry out and milk me dry as her * spasms around me.

I reach between us and press my thumb on her clit, rubbing it gently. “Give it to me, baby,” I rasp in her ear. “Come for me. Let me feel you coming around my cock.”

Her eyes squeeze shut, hips rising to meet my hurried thrusts, and then she cries out in pleasure, and I come so hard my vision wavers and my mind fragments into a million pieces.

When the mind-shattering pleasure finally abates, I register what song is playing in the car.

My eyes fly open. “Did you re-download One Direction?”

Her mouth twitches. “No…”

“Uh-huh. So why is “Story of my Life” playing?” I demand.

She pauses, then lets out a big sigh. “Because I like One Direction. There. I said it.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” I warn her. “Because I wouldn’t stand for it otherwise.”

Hannah grins. “You’re lucky I love you. Because you’re a total asshole and there aren’t a lot of girls who’d put up with it.”

She’s probably right about the asshole thing.

She’s definitely right about the lucky part.





37




Hannah


“I don’t like this,” I declare. “I mean it, babe, my legs are starting to hurt. I told you, I’m not flexible.”

Garrett’s laughter vibrates through my body. My naked body, I should add, because we’re in the middle of having sex. Which I just confessed to not liking.

Maybe I am a mood killer.

But you know what, I don’t care. I’m still vetoing this position. Garrett kneels in front of me, and my ankles are up on his shoulders. And maybe if he wasn’t a big strapping hockey player, my legs wouldn’t feel like they’re resting on top of the frickin’ Empire State building and be cramping the living hell out of me.

Still laughing, Garrett leans forward and my muscles breathe a sigh of relief as I slide my legs down and hook them around his ass. Immediately, the angle changes, and a moan slips out of my mouth.

“Better?” he says huskily.

“Oh my God. Yes. Do that again.”

“I have no idea what I did.”

“You twisted your hips, like…ooohhh…yeah, like that.”

Every time he fills me, my core clamps around his erection. Every time he retreats, I feel empty, achy, desperate. I’m addicted to this guy. To his kisses and his taste, to the feel of his short hair beneath my fingers, and the smooth sinew of his back when I dig my nails into it.

His hips flex and his breathing quickens, and he thrusts harder, deeper, turning my vision into a white haze. Then he reaches to the place where we’re joined and rubs my clit, and off we go. He comes first, but keeps pumping inside me even as he trembles in release. His climax sets me off and I tremble even harder, biting my lip to stop from crying out so I don’t alert his roommates to the delicious sensations coursing through my body right now.

Afterward, he rolls on his back and I lie on top of him, scaling his body like a monkey as I plant little kisses on his face and neck.

“Why do you always have so much more energy after sex?” he grumbles.

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” I smack kisses all over him, until he’s laughing in delight. I know he likes the attention, and it’s a good thing he does because I can’t stop giving it to him. For some reason, I turn into an affection monster when I’m around him.

Life is good again. A week has passed since Thanksgiving, and Garrett and I are still going strong. We’ve been busy, though. All our final papers are due soon, including the one for Tolbert’s class, which I’ve been helping Garrett with. His practice schedule is just as jam-packed as ever, and so is mine as I prepare for the showcase. But hey, at least I’m finally excited about it again.