Out of Bounds

I dip my mouth to hers, clasping her face in my hands. When I nip her bottom lip, she gasps. It’s such an alluring sound, and it turns me the fuck on even more. My dick would very much like to go inside her house tonight, but kissing is all that’s on the menu, so I kiss her in a way that’ll leave her wanting more. Because I want so much more of her, and I also want her to know that.

I’m not sure how I went from leaving the field when practice ended this morning, to spending the afternoon surfing to get my mind off all the changes I’m sure are coming, to kissing this beautiful stranger outside her Venice Beach home. But hell if I want to analyze this moment.

I spend my working hours making decisions, analyzing, choosing. Then executing.

Right now, I want to get lost in something that no one else controls but this woman and me.

Dani presses her sexy body to mine as I claim her lips in a deeper, more consuming kiss. A jolt of pleasure surges down my spine. The kiss picks up speed and intensifies, and soon I’m devouring her lips, and she likes it. She moans and murmurs, and loops her hands around my neck, tugging me closer. Switching up my location, I leave a path of kisses along her jaw, her cheek, over her neck. Her skin tastes so good, I could spend hours here, nibbling, nipping, biting. And so I do, nipping her earlobe.

She murmurs, a long, sexy, lingering noise. “Mmm. That feels so good.”

“You feel pretty fucking fantastic, Dani,” I whisper in her ear. “And I love the sounds you make.”

Flicking my tongue over the shell of her ear, I hear her pitch rise, that gorgeous gasp a woman makes as she gets turned on. It’s a sound that can drive a man insane with desire. I return to her lips, kissing harder this time, drawing in her bottom lip between my teeth. Grabbing her hips, I tug her closer. “Those little sexy noises make me crazy,” I tell her.

“I approve of this reaction,” she says playfully when she feels my hard-on.

“Feel free to show approval manually,” I say, joking. But, you know, not joking. If she wanted to get her hands in my pants, I would not protest one bit.

She brings her mouth to my ear. “Or orally.”

I groan. I would love to feel her lips wrapped nice and tight around me. “Now you’re really driving me nuts. Saying those dirty things when I know you’re going to walk inside and leave me out here. But I’ll be a good shark.”

She presses a palm against my hard-on, feeling me through my shorts. “You are a very good shark, Andrew.”

“So good you’ll let me take you out another night?” I ask, because I’ve got to see this woman again.

“I wouldn’t complain about that,” she says, as she slinks her hands up my chest, tiptoeing over my abs. I grab her hips and slam her against me.

“I wouldn’t either. I want to see you again, and you’ve got to know how much I want to touch you again too.”

She nibbles on the corner of her lip. “I want that too. Both.”

It’s a promise. Of another time. Another night.

I grab my phone from my back pocket and say, “Give me your number.”

I open my contacts and hand her the phone. She taps in her digits, and as she finishes, my ring tone sounds.

“Shit. Let me grab that.” I swipe the call and say, “Hey man, give me twenty seconds.”

Then, I lean in and brush one more kiss to her lips. “I’ll text you my number later. K?”

“You better.” Gripping my shirt, she tugs me close. She rocks her hips against me, and I nearly throw the phone to the ground, but I’ve got to take this call. It’s my agent, and shit’s been going down.

“I will, Dani Surfer Angel,” I say, then I turn around, head down her steps, and give her a tip of the hat one more time as she unlocks her door and heads inside.

As I walk down her street, I bring the phone to my ear. “What’s the story, man?”

He tells me, and my jaw fucking drops.





Chapter Three

Dani

I yank open the kitchen cupboard in Ally’s apartment one more time. Maybe it’s my fourth time. Fine, it’s my tenth. But it just yanks so satisfyingly.

“How do you not have tea or coffee?” I shout, irritated, as I stare at the nearly-bare shelves in her tiny kitchen.

“There’s this thing called Starbucks.” Her breezy voice calls out. But don’t let it fool you. She learned sarcasm from the best. “They have them everywhere. You go in, order your drink, and voila. The barista serves it,” she says, and yup, I was right. She’s a chip off the old block.

Her shoes clack against the tiles as she marches into the kitchen, her blond hair swishing in a high ponytail. I give my baby sister a cold stare. “Starbucks is expensive. You shouldn’t go there every day.”

“I have a million friends who are baristas.” She turns her voice to a stage whisper as she spreads out her hands. “News flash. They give me free drinks.”