Page 32 of Pitcher Perfect
“Ohhh. Okay, good point.” Damn, she was the perfect height. Tall enough that he wouldn’t have to bend his knees to kiss her. Short enough that she had to tip her face up to make eye contact, the sunset bathing her smooth cheeks, picking up hints of gold hidden in the depths of her brown eyes. “Time for another round of flirting practice?”
Robbie waggled his brows. “Thought you’d never ask.”
She started to relax more and more in his loose hold, her fingers even lifting to toy with the buttons of the white polo shirt he’d thrown on. “Look at me go. I’m touching, like you taught me.”
Like you taught me.
Was it sick to be turned on by that phrasing?
Suddenly, he was picturing Skylar beneath him in the queen-sized bed they were sharing, both of them naked while he pumped home, his hands shaking as they pressed her knees open, their mouths slanting, panting.
Did I make you hard just like you taught me?
Even in the fantasy, his response was incoherent.
“You were the token suck-up in class, weren’t you?” Robbie asked, his voice a lot grittier than before. Hard to blame him when they were still fucking like animals in his mind, Skylar on top now, her ponytail coming loose, hips bucking—
“Every single time,” she answered, sniffing. “And you were the class clown, I’m guessing?”
Come on, man. Focus.
She asked for help. Give it to her.
“Smile at me a little,” he leaned down to murmur against her forehead. “You look like you’re telling me to go jump in the lake.”
Her mouth softened gradually, along with her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”
Robbie shrugged. “I’m a strong swimmer.”
“Hopefully that will come in handy.” Her fingertips moved higher to the collar of his polo, smoothing it out, and he almost saw stars when the pad of her pinkie finger grazed the skin below his ear. Felt that minor touch all the way in his stomach, nearly causing him to groan. “The main purpose of the opening ceremony is to go over the rules and receive the first challenge.”
He blinked to clear his sudden double vision. “Who designs the challenges?”
“My parents.”
Robbie hadn’t been expecting that, although it hadn’t occurred to him to wonder who came up with the events. He’d had too much else on his mind; namely, the girl in front of him whowas going to have a black belt in flirting by the end of the night, if they continued like this. “They get to plan the challenges, even though they’re competing?” Robbie asked, using his thumb to smooth down those curly hairs at her temple.
Did her eyes get kind of drowsy when he rubbed her temples or was that just wishful thinking? “It’s the one advantage we give them due to their age,” Skylar said, tamping down a yawn, then looking around to make sure no one saw it.
“Generous of you,” he quipped quietly, rubbing with a little more pressure.
“You might have to stop doing that.”
“Why?”
“It’s putting me to sleep when I need to be alert.” She gave a rapid shake of her head and caught his wrist, starting to pull it away. But something—or someone—behind Robbie must have been watching because she brought his wrist to her mouth and kissed his pulse, before letting it go, blissfully unaware that she’d just sent it haywire.
“Did he see that?” Robbie asked. It was that or start moaning.
She searched his face a moment before nodding. “I can’t tell what Madden thinks about all this. You being here.”
“You’ve known him a long time. You don’t feel comfortable asking him?”
“No,” she said on a burst of breath. Then, more troubled, “No.”
“Not yet,” Robbie said, wanting to make her feel better. Encouraged.
Gratitude danced briefly across her face. “Right. Not yet.”
