Fangirl Down (Big Shots, #1)

“Wells,” she cried out, her elbow inadvertently hitting the horn on the cart, her thighs wrapping tightly around his head to ride out that last wave—and then she was sliding forward and off the seat, catching Wells off guard and forcibly pushing him onto his back in the grass.

She moaned when she saw his dick was already out, hard as nails. Still trembling from her climax, she straddled him, hooking her middle finger around the edge of her soaked, stretched-out panties to keep them pulled to one side, then sank down onto the shaft he offered in his shaking hand. A symphony of obscenities flooded his brain when she took him whole, planting her palms on his shoulders and starting to buck her hips.

“That was so good,” she said breathlessly. “Oh my God, that was so good.”

He had to dig deep for the ability to speak, being inside of her was so off-the-charts incredible. The flesh that welcomed him deep, deep, deep, was swollen from pleasure. Juicy. And there was something about this woman being hot enough for his cock to wrestle him onto his back that made one thing clear. This was going to be the best nut of his life. “What’s this?” he rasped. “A reward?”

“One hundred percent.” She shoved his T-shirt to his throat and raked her tongue over his right nipple, before biting it. Hard. “I guess I don’t have any shame, either.”

Wells was overcome by lust so fucking thick, he had no control of his body as he jackknifed into a sitting position, breathing out of control, both hands on her taut butt cheeks, yanking her as tight to his lap as she would go, while he plundered her mouth with his tongue. There was no such thing as too close or too frantic, they’d gone past any semblance of holding back or playing it cool. They went at it like mating animals in the grass, her hips slapping against him, their lips battling for the deepest taste, fingertips bruising flesh, his heart elevated to his throat and getting stuck there. Completely stuck.

I’m so gone for this woman.

She’s not just the one. She’s . . . the rest of me.

“How was I surviving before, baby?” Wells flipped their positions, rolling her roughly onto her back and hitting a breakneck pace, her knees damn near in her armpits. “What was I doing without you?”

He was afraid of her answer, afraid that he’d exposed too much, so he fastened his mouth over Josephine’s and let the intense blast of relief hit him like a steamroller. It hurt so good, he roared brokenly into their kiss, his hips slamming down those final few times, before stiffening, his balls almost stinging from the sudden loss of pressure. Sweet mother of God.

Like before, he literally had no control of his muscles or intentions as he dropped, totally depleted of anything resembling strength, yet somehow he was the most powerful man alive, because this woman, this gift from heaven, his partner, had perfect breaths that matched his own. And she wasn’t going anywhere. She’s not going anywhere.

For now, whispered a voice in the back of his head.





Chapter Thirty-One




Josephine woke up to find her boyfriend pacing naked in the living room, arguing into his phone. He hadn’t even bothered to close the blinds, thus the Florida sunshine was bathing his backside in a warm, almost ethereal glow that made Josephine hold up her own phone and snap a picture. For posterity—or posterior’s sake. Both maybe?

When Wells noticed Josephine had entered the living room, he gave her a slow grin that made little fairies roll around in her belly, giggling and firing pixie dust from finger guns.

Oh my goodness.

This was love. Adoration, affection, connection. And definitely lust.

She’d never actually had to change her sheets in the middle of the night because they’d gotten too sweaty, but there was a first time for everything. Since she didn’t have to temper the desire to have a million first times with Wells, she smiled back at him, letting the welling sensation in her chest reach her eyes. And Josephine must have done a good job portraying how indescribably perfect and right it felt to wake up with this man, because he stopped pacing and stared at her, his Adam’s apple unmoving beneath his chin.

“I was going to need to change my flight to California, anyway,” he said into the phone. “I want to be on the same flight as Josephine.”

In the wake of that gruff pronouncement—and the increasing storm of pixie dust in her belly— Josephine could hear the faint voice of a man talking on the other end of the line.

“Hold on, I’m going to put you on speaker,” Wells interrupted, tapping the screen of his phone. “You’re on with me and Josephine.”

“Nice to meet you, Josephine. I’m Nate. You need a manager stat, honey.”

“No, she doesn’t. And don’t call her honey.”

An electronic snicker filled the apartment. “Sorry. Josephine. I was just telling your boy here that both of you need to get to California a couple of days early. Under Armour wants to meet with their new power duo to play kissy face. They also want to make sure Mr. Whitaker is still on the straight and narrow before they outfit the team for another tournament. You’ve also got some press to do. A practice round. I don’t know who this fucker thinks he is, rolling into town the night before a tournament starts.”

“Worked for us last time,” Wells barked.

“Yeah, well, people actually want to see your disgustingly handsome face now, don’t ask me why. The commissioner wants you and Josephine doing press, my man. You’re the big human-interest story heading into the Masters. It’s only two weeks away, you know. People love a comeback.”

Josephine pressed a hand to her stomach to calm it.

Two weeks to the Masters. With all the changes in her life recently, the most prestigious tournament on the tour schedule by a mile had really crept up fast. Was Wells ready for that four-day pressure cooker, the competition to earn the almighty green jacket?

Yes.

She’d do everything in her power to make sure he was.

“How soon do we need to be there?” Wells asked, still completely naked and 100 percent glorious. “Does tomorrow work?”

Nate sighed. “It’s going to have to be tonight if you want the commissioner happy.”

“Since when do I give a f—” Wells stopped short when Josephine widened her eyes at him. “Hold on.” He smashed a finger to the screen while crossing the room toward Josephine. “Josephine, quit looking at my dick. I can’t concentrate.”

“It’s looking at me!” she sputtered. “And my neighbors.”

His smile belonged on a pirate outlaw. “Just saving us time. We’ve got another set of sheets to ruin. As soon as we’re done with this call, I’m going to—”

“I’m not muted, you know,” came Nate’s voice over the line.

Josephine slapped both hands to her cheeks.

Wells, not even remotely embarrassed, peered down at his phone and hit the correct button before refocusing his attention on Josephine. “Are you good with the schedule change? We’d have to drive to Miami for my clubs tonight and fly out from there.”

She performed a mental inventory of her diabetes supplies. “Yeah, I can . . .” She trailed off when she remembered something. “Oh.”

“What’s up?” Wells asked, raising an eyebrow.

Why was she hesitating to tell him this? “I’m meeting with the contractor at Rolling Greens tomorrow morning. About renovations on the Golden Tee.”

Some of the light went out of Wells’s eyes, but he nodded without hesitation. “Okay, yeah. That’s important. You need to be there.”

“The project is going to start while we’re in California and I won’t be able to be here in person.” Her palms were suddenly damp. “I just . . . I have to make sure we’re on the same page or the job will be too far underway when I get back. Changes will require more work.”

“I understand, belle.” He walked around the kitchen island, pulled her into an embrace, and kissed her forehead. Once, twice. “I can do press on my own.”