Page 57 of Breakaway Goal

Jasmine’s left for her study group. She even told me that she’s probably going to be gone longer than usual today, because her and some of the other people in the group plan to go out for coffee afterward. Rhys texted me a couple minutes ago that he’s on his way.

It feels like the thermostat is turned up to a hundred degrees in here. I can’t sit still, so I’m pacing up and down the length of the room, my nerves buzzing.

I roll my lips together, remembering the firm pressure of his mouth crushing to mine on Friday night. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for the whole weekend.

It must have been more than a dozen times that Jasmine called me out for daydreaming. I still haven’t told her what happened—or what’saboutto happen.

Part of me still can’t believe it, and worries that the moment I tell Jasmine about it, I’ll wake up from the dream I’m in.

Three knocks sound against the outside of my door. My heart leaps, and an electric jolt ripples through me, settling with buzzing heat between my legs.

I open the door, and Rhys steps in, closing it behind us.

A grin of anticipation twitches on his pillowy lips, and hunger radiates from his gaze.

He wears a black t-shirt, revealing the thick muscles that ripple down his arms under the dense covering of body art. The cut of his jaw looks somehow sharper than usual, the angular features of his face more striking, his lips plusher, his tousled black hair more luxurious, the glimmer in his tawny eyes more dazzling.

I’m still tight with tension, but Rhys exudes confidence and assurance that makes me feel slightly more at ease.

A beat of silence ticks by. What am I supposed to say? I have no frame of reference for this kind of … meeting? Encounter? What the hell do you even call it when a guy comes over to your place to hook up? Date doesn’t seem right.

“So, did you, uh, have a good walk over?” I cringe internally at my question. Rhys Callahan, the guy who’s been one of my two best friends for almost my whole life, who’s been close as a brother to Lane, who I’ve pined after since before middle school, is here to do unmentionable things to me, and I’m nervously making small talk.

Amusement flashes in Rhys’s eyes, like he enjoys watching me squirm under this unfamiliar pressure.

“I did. I had a lot to think about.” His voice is low and gravelly.

“Like what?” I ask. I feel a twinge of anxiety. Was he thinking about all the reasons that what we’ve planned to do today is a bad idea? All the reasons why kissing me was a mistake, and going even further would be nothing but a bigger one?

He devours the small distance between us with a step toward me. His hands fall to my hips, his fingertips curling into my soft skin as his grin turns wolfish.

“What I’m going to do to, and how fucking good it’s going to make you feel.” The rough rasp of his voice sends goosebumps scattering up and down my arms, and I have to suck in a sharp breath.

“Oh,” is the only answer I can summon as an ache suddenly throbs between my thighs and heat races to my face. I gather my senses and joke, “Well, you know we have a supply of condoms here already.”

He laughs. The familiar sound eases some of my nerves, though anticipation still hums through me.

“I wondered if they’d been all used up by now.”

My lips tug. “Nope. Still have plenty of the snug fit, too, if you need them.”

He smiles, but his expression darkens. “Does it feel like I need them?”

He pulls my hips against him, and I feel the hard outline of his cock through his jeans. My stomach flips. He’s so huge, I almost wonder if it’s going to be physically possible for me to take him. But there’s a flicker of excitement at the prospect of finding out.

“No,” I squeak. “No, it doesn’t.”

He shakes his head. “We won’t need condoms, though. Not today.”

My forehead furrows. “No?”

“Not for a while,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I told you we’re going to do this right, and I meant it.”

His hand glides from my hip, dragging up my side and past my shoulder, until his grip is resting possessively on the side of my neck, his thumb drawing circles where my jaw meets my ear.

“I’m not some idiot college boy here to fuck you and get it over with,” he rasps. “I’m going to show you how good it can be, how good it should be, when a guy who knows exactly what he’s doing puts your satisfaction front and center.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat, anticipation ratcheting up and winding deliciously through me.

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