Page 9 of Game On
She moans into the kiss, nails sinking into my back as I angle her body closer to mine. Her hands inch their way under my shirt and run along my abs and chest, lingering on every touch, as if she can’t get enough.
Groaning low in my throat, I deepen the kiss, brushing her hip with fevered strokes.
God, I’ve missed this. This sense of desperation—this urgent need to have her—it’s further proof that my self-imposed dry spell has lasted far too long. I went a little too hard last year. Drank too much. Slept around. I’ve been trying to rein it in, but I guess there are some risks a man can’t help but take.
“Come on,” I manage to croak out. “The mosquitoes will eat us alive out here. And God knows, I need to get you in my bed.”
The house is dark as we step inside, Levi likely still out on a date with his girlfriend—or whatever the hell he calls her this week. I let him know I was on my way home with someone, and he still hasn’t texted me back.
I flip on the hallway light and lead Ella into my room, closing the door behind us. My bedroom is modest: queen-size bed, dresser, and two nightstands—one of which is covered in a tumbling pile of clothes. I clear them off, stuffing them into a nearby hamper.
Then I remember something crucial. Turning to Ella with a half-smile, I say, “Fuck, I nearly forgot. How do you feel about cats?”
Before she can answer, a sleek Siamese with piercing blue eyes comes slinking out from under the bed, purring and rubbing against our legs.
“Love them,” she says, laughing as she bends down to scratch behind his ears. “And who is this?”
“Sourdough,” I reply, watching with amusement as he accepts Ella’s affection.
She stands, casting me a quizzical look. “Odd name.”
I shrug, trying to suppress a smile. “What can I say? He was a very grumpy kitten.”
“Well, then I suppose it’s only logical,” Ella says, a grin spreading across her face.
“But now he’s a total softie,” I say, bending down to greet him. “Aren’t you, bud?”
He responds by purring even louder, circling Ella’s feet in a display of approval.
She laughs again, her eyes lighting up in a way that makes my chest tighten. It’s a sight I could easily get used to. But since we only have tonight, it’s one I need to savor.
“Looks like I’ve made a new friend,” she says, reaching down to scoop Sourdough into her arms. My cat immediately kneads her shoulder, settling in as if he’s found his new favorite spot.
“Yeah, he’s a good judge of character,” I say, mesmerized, as I watch them together. Her dark hair cascades down her back, the soft curled ends nudging the top of my cat’s head. “Seems like you’ve passed the test.”
She nuzzles her nose into his fur. “And what if I hadn’t?”
“Well, I’d obviously still have sex with you,” I say bluntly. “But only once. And you’d probably have to leave right after.”
Her jaw drops. “And here I was, thinking you were a gentleman.”
“Don’t blame me,” I say with a chuckle. “Blame Sour. Besides, I asked you to come home with me after speaking to you for about five minutes. If you still thought I was a gentleman, then that’s your error.”
She groans. “Allow me to lie to myself, will you?”
“If it’s in my favor,” I say, “go ahead.”
“Thank you for your permission.”
We both laugh as Sourdough hops from her arms and slinks out of the room. It’s as if he’s aware of our intentions and is allowing us the space to be alone. Smart little kitty.
I carefully close the door behind him. When I turn my attention back to Ella, she’s watching me, and the way her dark eyes track my every movement might be even more of a turn-on than the promise of her touch.
“Lights on or off?” I ask.
“You’re giving me the option?”
“I want you to be comfortable,” I say in a soft voice. “I may be dying to see you—allof you—but I’m almost certain I can feel you just as well.”
