Page 27 of One Spicy Summer

“You like pissing me off because you know the reward will be twice as sweet, don’t you?”

She doesn’t answer. So I grab her face and kiss her, hard. Like she belongs to me.

Because she does.

She moans into my mouth, and fuck, it goes straight to my dick.

“My Little Hellion, do you know what it does to me, seeinghisjersey onyou?” My hands trace down her back to her ass. “Take it off. Before I do it for you.”

She shoves me back with a laugh, eyes dancing with mischief.

“Does it hurt, Ry? Does it make you mad that I wore another guy’s jersey?” She steps closer. “He said some nasty shit to me, and then he apologized. As a peace offering, he gave me his lucky jersey, to ‘help me let it out.’”

“What?” I blink, trying to keep up.

She smiles like she’s won. “It’s the one that supposedly helps you idiots win all your games. I didn’t even want it, but he insisted.”

She lifts the jersey off in one smooth motion and tosses it at my feet.

“I don’t give a fuck what he said,” I growl. “Don’t ever put something on your body that doesn’t have my name attached to it. Got it?”

My chest is tight, blood pounding in my ears. Presley steps between my legs and gently pulls my hands away from my face.

“Rygaard?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” She kisses my knuckles.

“As you should be.” I murmur, grabbing her chin and pulling her into another kiss. “Do you know who you belong to, Presley?”

She smirks. “My mom and Dad.”

“Don’t be cute.” I lick her bottom lip. “Who. Do. You. Belong. To?”

Her arms wrap around my neck, eyes locked on mine. “I’m yours, Rygaard Garrison. All yours.”

She kisses me again, stealing what’s left of my sanity.

“You weren’t there before the game,” I whisper. “You weren’t there…”

“I know, baby,” she says, cradling my head as I sink to my knees, arms locked around her waist. “But I’m here now.”

She strokes my hair, and the fire inside me begins to fade.

“I need you like I need every breath I take,” I confess.

She goes still.

“Don’t think I didn’t see those giggles though. Youlikewaking the wolf.”

She lifts my chin until I meet her eyes. “Maybe. But you’re still on your knees, Rygaard. Forme.Do you know what that tells me?”

I look away, and she smiles.

“It tells me you fuckinglike it,silly boy.” Then she kisses me again, slow and soft, like she owns me.

Maybe she does.

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