Page 48 of Vince
Sydney
His lips descendon mine in a nanosecond.
I barely have a chance to respond before I’m consumed by all things Vince. His strong hands take hold of my face, pinning me in place, while his fervent kisses light me from the inside out.
I want more.
I need more.
My hands scrape along the hemline of his shirt, searching for his warm skin. When I find what I need, I run the tips of my fingers up and down his spine. A low guttural groan escapes his lips between kisses. “Syd… press harder or stop. This isn’t the time to make me ticklish,” he demands by the end.
Press harder it is then.
His hand leaves my face to find the hem of my shirt as well.
Remembering all too well the effects he has on me, I manage to moan, “Bedroom…” between kisses to keep this just between us should my roommates return home. “Want…” kiss… “Privacy…” Kiss.
God, the way he makes me feel is incredible.
Vince breaks our kiss and pants, “Which way,” as he grabs my hand.
We make it to my bedroom in record time. The minute the door clicks shut behind us, his mouth is back on mine in the most delicious way. I reach for the bottom of his shirt, and he breaks our contact only long enough to rip it over his head.
Seeing his sexiness in action makes me quickly discard mine, too. The hunger in Vince’s eyes matches mine as his eyes roam the top half of my body. I’d purposely chosen a black demi-cup bra and matching boy shorts, hoping our night would end this way.
I swear, the heat in his gaze leaves a trail of goose bumps along their path. From his look alone, and I know in this instant, I need to make him mine. Reaching out, I trail my finger along his corded forearms, up to his sculpted shoulder. I’m not sure what he does to have such well-defined muscles, but I like it. A lot. He’s not overtly bulky, more just physically fit, but each muscle along my perusal makes me want to lick each and every square inch of him. I’ve never felt such an attraction before.
When my eyes finally reach his face, I see his tongue slowly trace his lower lip as if he’s contemplating which part of me he wants to kiss first. Taking the two necessary steps toward him, I reach out and splay my fingers across his chest. I push him backward, just forcefully enough to let him know I want him to lie on the bed.
At first, I think he’ll comply, but his smirk and the shake of his head tells me otherwise. Instantly, he flips our positions and the next thing I know, I’m being tossed lightly into the middle of my bed. I’ve never been more thankful for my queen-sized bed than I am at this moment.
Vince presses a knee into the mattress and slowly climbs up my body. He’s not touching me yet, but the anticipation drives me wild. “You in a hurry or somethin’?”
“I can be patient… if I must.” I pretend to pout by sticking out my lower lip.
To my surprise, he leans in and nips at my lower lip. “I don’t think you’re gonna have anything to pout about, Syd. Besides, when you stick out that lower lip, all it makes me wanna do is bite it.”
The tease that I am does it again.
To my utter delight, he pulls it gently with his teeth and growls playfully. His hands slide up past my hips, and he full-on begins a tickle war.
I squeal as I attempt to squirm away.
Two can play at this game.
Knowing his ribs are his kryptonite, I go for them with every ounce of energy I have—and it works. Score!!!
The loud laughter erupting from both of us seems to spur us on further. I can’t remember when I’ve had this much fun in a tickle match.
Finally, he gasps, “Enough… Enough… You win…” as he pulls away and flops back on the bed.
Though I’m entirely breathless, I climb over and straddle him to claim my prize. “I declare victory.” I pretend to boast. "I’m the champion of all tickle fights. Bow down to the victor…” I raise my hand and fist bump the air. Then I turn my focus back to him with a playful waggle of my brows, “Hmmm… what will be my prize tonight?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he deadpans, and I lose it with laughter all over again.
He pulls his body upright and leans his back against my headboard. “I don’t know about you… but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to keep score in bed.”
“True,” I agree as another thought hits me, and I pretend to be as serious as possible. “Whatever will we do if we aren’t having a tickle fight in bed?”
