Page 55 of Breakaway Goal

He kissed me, but he still hasn’t answered me. He still hasn’t told me he’ll do what I asked him to.

“Will you?” I ask, only realizing how breathless I am after hearing the thin whisp of my voice.

His jaw muscles arc. The whiskey-hued gleam in his eyes sharpens. His brow lowers.

He nods. “Yes.”

Relief and excitement flood me.

His hand drags along the outline of my jaw until he holds my chin. His thumb brushes my bottom lip, swollen and aching deliciously from our kiss.

“But we’re going to do it right,” he says, his voice low a rasp.

My forehead furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not just going to screw you like we’re ticking off a box on a fucking checklist,” he says. “You want it to feel right? You wantexperience?” Flames lick in his amber eyes at the word. “I’m going to show you everything, so you know exactly what you like, what feels good for you, what gets you off. If we do this, it won’t be a one-time thing.”

Heat blasts through me, excitement winding me tight. My imagination comes alive picturing everything Rhys has in mind.

Yeah, I think his terms are acceptable.

I nod. “Okay.”

A smile carves on his mouth. It’s sly, devilish, and so sexy that it’ll be a wonder if I don’t find out my panties have disintegrated when I get home.

“When’s the next time you’ll have your dorm to yourself for a while?” Rhys asks. His hand still holds my chin, tilting my headback to look up at him, his thumb still resting just below my lower lip.

“Monday,” I answer. “Jasmine has a study group. She’s always out for more than an hour.”

“More than an hour.” His eyes gleam. “Perfect.”

Tonight, my life has changed in ways I couldn’t have imagined even one week ago. I just wish I were positive that I’m not going to end up regretting it.

28

RHYS

Monday morning, I wake up the same way I did Saturday and Sunday mornings: with the taste of Maddie Larsen still on my lips.

The memory of kissing her supercharges my morning erection. My balls are tight, and my cock so hard trapped in my boxers that it aches furiously. I toss off my covers and pull my boxers down on my hips, giving my hardness at least some relief as it springs up and bobs freely in the air to the rhythm of my heartbeat.

“Fuck it,” I mumble to myself, wrapping my fist around my shaft and giving it a slow pump.

I close my eyes as I fist myself. The memories of how Maddie felt pressed against me, how her velvety tongue felt as it slanted against mine, rush me toward release.

It’s probably best that I get off this morning, because when I see Maddie at her place later today, I don’t want to come in my pants.

My jaw clenches as my climax hits me. Hot, thick release coats my lower abs. My lips form into a circle to let out a long, charged exhale.

What the fuck am I doing?

A question I’ve asked myself way too many times to count since Friday night.

I could write a book full of all the reasons I shouldn’t have agreed to what Maddie asked of me. Full of all the reasons I should tell her I’m backing out of it before we cross another line, one we can’t possibly step back over. There’s still time, after all.

But who am I kidding?

After that kiss? I’m already an addict. It would take a full-scale intervention to keep me from kissing Maddie again, to keep me from touching the parts of her I always dreamed of.

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