Page 35 of Breakaway Goal

What if I spun around right now? Gripped her hips and tipped her over so that I was hovering over her on this couch, face to face. Pressed my hips forward so she could feel how fucking hard she’s making me, so hard that with each beat of my heart, my cock threatens burst through my jeans. Told her everything I’m thinking, everything I want to do to her …

Told her that the other night, after I saw her in my shirt, I was so frenzied with arousal that I pumped my cock with my fist and had to bite my cheek to keep from crying out when I came.

Fuck, I need to snap out of it. This is my best friend’s little sister I’m thinking about. This is Maddie.

I’m summoning up the willpower to thank her for the massage and tell her she can get off me—when we hear the sound of someone at the front door.

16

MADDIE

Someone’s at the door.

Someone’s at the door while I’m straddling my brother’s shirtless best friend and giving him a back rub. And my brother couldbethat someone.

Realization smashes into both of us. I leap off the couch, flying away from Rhys like shrapnel from an exploding grenade.

Guilt spirals through me. I knew what I was doing. Using Rhys’s sore muscles as an excuse to have my hands all over them like I’ve always wanted to. Savoring the feeling of him between my legs. Reveling in the sensation of his body heat on my thighs as I rested my weight on him.

Dreaming of how it would feel for him to be on top of me, relieving the sharp ache panging between my thighs while I dig my fingertips even deeper into the dense slabs of his muscles—him doing such a good job at relieving that ache that I start to dig my fingernailsinto them …

Rhys hops off the couch, too, instinctively leaping a pace in the opposite direction from me. We both have our eyes riveted to the door, which …

Doesn’t open.

Instead, the mail slot opens, and a couple letters clatter onto the floormat in front of it.

It was just the mailman.

A sigh of relief wooshes from me.

I turn to Rhys. He must think I’m nuts for reacting the way I did. After all, there was nothing wrong with what we were doing. I’m just revealing my own guilt at the thoughts and fantasies I had galloping through my mind.

I push out an awkward laugh. “That noise at the door … I just didn’t expect it, you know? Guess I’ve been on edge ever since that prank you and Lane played Thursday night.”

There you go, Maddie. Reasonable deflection.

“Right,” Rhys says, his own laugh just as thin and awkward as mine. “Uh, same here.”

I know if I stand here any longer, I won’t be able to keep my eyes from devouring the sight of his muscular body and how low his sweatpants are hanging on his hips.

He slings his hands into the pockets of those sweatpants and pads toward me. I match each forward step of his with an awkward tread backward.

“I, uh, should get going,” I jut my thumb behind me, towards the door. “I have this, you know … thing. With Jasmine.”

“Right,” Rhys nods. “Wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

Why is he still walking toward me?

Probably because there’s no reason he should be embarrassed and flustered like I am right now. It was my messed-up mind that took an innocent massage somewhere far beyond what it was, not his.

“No. Definitely wouldn’t wanna miss it.” I’m babbling now. “I should hurry up. Don’t want to keep Jasmine wait—” my babbling is cut off by a yelp as the back of my ankle connects with a shoe lying on the floor; my feet get tripped up, and I lose my balance.

Rhys dips forward in a jolt of motion, stretching out his arm to curl it around me; but as I tumble down, I cause him to lose his equilibrium, too. His powerful torso twists, shifting his body weight, and the next thing I know, we’re both on the floor, tangled together, my weight resting on top of his heaving chest.

I’m lying on top of him. My breasts are pressed against the hard planes of his muscles. Instantly, my nipples pebble underneath my shirt, and the friction against them as his chest expands on a breath sends an intense, pleasurable feeling snaking through me.

His eyes lock with mine. His irises are clear, sparkling amber, like a shot of whiskey held up to the sun. And I feel like I’m getting drunk just looking at them.

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