Page 26 of The Love Playbook

Moving down, I reach the hem of her shirt. With my eyes on hers, I rub my hand back and forth along her waist, my fingers slipping under the stretchy fabric.

She dips her chin in a slight nod of encouragement, as though to say, yes, please put your hand up my shirt.

She did say I could touch her however I wanted besides slapping her. Which, like … who would do that? How is that sexy at all?

I can’t imagine striking a woman ever. For any reason. Just the thought makes me want to recoil.

I guess it’s good she doesn’t want that, because I don’t think I could do it.

I’ve seen enough porn that I know it’s a thing people do. I just … it’s not for me.

With her permission, I slide my palm up over her smooth, soft skin. Warm and pliant. And all for me … at least for now.

Reaching her bra again, I trace the bottom edge, my finger sliding under the elastic on the side. “What color is your bra?” I whisper, my curiosity getting the best of me.

Her lips curve in that sultry smile she loves to turn on me. “You wanna see?”

Swallowing hard, I nod. “Yes, please,” I rasp.

“So polite,” she murmurs, sitting up enough to pull her top off, then lying back on the bed as though to display herself and her red lacy bra for my perusal.

And I guess that’s really what she’s doing, after all. She places her hands behind her head, moving her hair out from under her, watching me as I look her over in her cut off denim shorts and bra.

God, she’s fucking gorgeous.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, skating my palm up the center of her torso again.

“Thank you,” she says lightly, pleased.

“I’m sure you hear that all the time, though.”

She shrugs, waiting until my eyes meet hers to say anything. And when she does, her face is as serious as her voice. “It doesn’t matter what other people tell me. I like hearing compliments from you. It makes me feel good. I think you’re attractive too. Handsome. Cute. Especially when you blush.”

On command, blood rises to my cheeks, heating my face and the tips of my ears. Dropping my eyes, I stare at my hand on her rib cage, willing the blush to fade.

She chuckles, but it’s not mean. “See what I mean? You’re adorable.” She waits until I look her in the eyes again before continuing. “And Jackson?”

I swallow hard. Almost a gulp at the predatory change in her voice.

“This shy guy thing you’ve got going on?” She circles the air with her finger in front of me. “It makes me want to find out what’s lurking beneath that buttoned up exterior. Your blushes and shyness aren’t off putting to me. I just want you to know that, in case you were worried. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. That’s one of the things I like most about you.”

I open my mouth to respond, but I’m at a loss. My friends usually tell me to loosen up or lighten up or laugh at me for blushing when locker room talk turns to sex and conquests. No one has ever told me they found my shyness attractive.

She sits up and kisses me, her tongue sliding between my lips. Earlier she let me lead the kiss, but it seems that her patience for that has reached an end, because now she’s taking control.

Pulling her legs under her, she gets up on her knees, her hands cupping my jaw as she kisses me. Long, deep, languid kisses that have me getting even harder, which I didn’t actually think was possible.

Her hands slide down to my shoulders, squeezing, then moving to my chest. She bunches the fabric of my shirt in her fingers, her intention clear.

I guess it’s my turn to take my shirt off.

When she breaks away from the kiss, I lift my arms, letting her pull my shirt over my head.

Her eyes track over my torso as she drops the shirt somewhere off to the side, forgotten. “Jackson.” She breathes my name like a prayer. “You’re gorgeous.”

I can’t help smiling at her giving me back my compliment like that.

“Thank you,” I murmur. “Not half as gorgeous as you, though.”

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