Page 153 of Going Viral for Christmas
Ava’s back arches, and the movement makes me feelallof her. Slippery and slick against my chest, thighs pressed tight against mine.
One shift.
That’s all it takes.
The lazy affection between us catches fire, sparking into a darker, heavier thirst that coils low in my belly and dares me to act on every wicked thought currently brewing in my brain. I go from a semi-situation to painfully hard in the space of a breath.
My cock presses into her. She stills, then presses backdeliberately.And I lose my mind.
Ava exposes her neck, offering me her skin. “You’re staring,” shesays softly.
“Can you blame me?” I set the wineglass back on the ledge without taking my eyes off her. “You’re naked. Drunk on snow victory. Dripping wet. You basically summoned this moment.”
Her lips twitch. “Careful, Pembry. You’re giving me Edward Cullen energy.”
My mouth hovers over the pulse at her throat. “Difference is, Bells, I wouldn’t stop at just staring.”
Ava’s lashes flutter. “Well, when you put it that way…”
One of my hands skims over her stomach to the underside of her breast. “Say the word, Bells.”
“What word?”
“Literally any of them.” My lips skim her jaw. “Pick one. I’ll fuck you sweet. Or rough. Or both.”
Ava’s fingers dig into my thigh. And when she finally speaks, it’s not a word at all—it’s my name, broken and breathy.
I take that as permission.
My hand slides up to cup her breast, thumb teasing over her nipple until she lets out the softest sound—half sigh, half moan, all mine.
“Still want me out of your tub?” I ask, voice thick with heat.
Sitting up fully, Ava turns in the water, straddles me, her slick heat settling right over my cock—teasing, tormenting—her pussy sliding against me with each tiny shift. It’s killing me. I’m so close to being inside her, I can feel her flutter and pulse. Her body’s begging me in its own secret language.
Ava stares at me for a delicious few seconds, letting the tension strangle the air between us before she kisses me, answering my question with her entire body.
“Guess that’s a no,” I say against her lips.
We stay like this for a while—kissing, tasting, touching—until she relaxes against me again, her breath hot on my throat, one hand idly trailing over my chest.
I hold her against me, my cock standing at full attention—aching, and ready—but I stay still, waiting on her next move. Letting the weight of wanting fall on her.
Then I spot it.
A small black drawstring bag, barely visible behind a cheap little fakeplant on the tub’s edge. Camouflaged between shampoo and conditioner.
Almost pulled it off, too.
Almost.
I wouldn’t have noticed it at all if it weren’t for the hot pink lettering printed across the fabric:Buzz Buddies.
“Well, well, well.” I cock a brow. “What do we have over there?”
Ava stiffens, then immediately glances behind her.
Before she can react, I lunge forward, one arm around her waist to hold her steady while water sloshes around us. Reaching past her, I pluck the bag off the ledge and hold it up between two fingers with a devil’s grin as if I’ve uncovered her deepest secret. Most likely I have.
