Page 48 of Not Falling for the Forward
He runs off to retrieve his ball and places it back on the Tee to try again. When he over-shoots his shot by a long way, for the third time in a row. A have to wipe the tears out of my eyes. “How does a professional athlete have such poor hand-eye co-ordination?”
“Hey,” he whines, pinching my side, which tickles and makes me snort laugh.
His eyes widen in delight that he has discovered my ticklish spot, and he drops his golf club and lunges for me. I squeal and jump back, but not quick enough and I am scooped up in his arms being pinched and tickled by his strong hands. The snort laughs that are coming out of me set Jack off so much that he falls to the floor with me still in his arms.
I bat him away, but he still keeps hold of me, both of us now literally rolling on the floor laughing. “Truce!” I squeal between snorts. He loosens his grip slightly and moves his hands to my hips, holding me.
In our tickle fight I have spun myself around, so I am on top of him, one of my legs straddling his. I push myself up on my elbows and look down at Jack. My breath catches at the sight of him like this, under me, his hair ruffled and pupils large. The last time I saw him like this I was on my knees for him. A shiver runs up my spine at the memory.
His chest is moving fast, his breaths coming out quick and short. So are mine.
He reaches a hand up and tucks my hair behind my ear so I have an unobstructed view of him. He follows his fingers down one of my curls and pulls it at the bottom, so it springs back up. “I love your hair like this.” His voice is rough and the sound of it sends heat to my core. His pupils have grown about ten sizes when I meet his eyes.
He trails his hand down my neck to cup my jaw. I lean down tilting my head, I am finally going to kiss him again.
Jack clears his throat and shifts himself so he is sitting up and I am sitting next to him.
What the fuck?
I shake my head trying to physically shake myself out of the moment.
I look up at Jack and blink in disbelief, his neck is stained pink and he lifts a hand to scratch the back of it, “We should keep playing. I haven't lost yet.” He grins at me sheepishly and jumps to his feet, proving he is all the athlete I know him to be.
“Yeah,” I mumble, still confused. He reaches a hand down to me and I use it to help me stand. He releases me as soon as I am up and retrieves his golf club, setting himself up for his next go.
***
Jack
That was too fucking close.
I have been itching to get my hands back on her since that day in the board room. When she thinks I got all I needed from her. How do I tell her that is not all I want from her, but also, all I am dying to do with her?
I have been half hard since she stepped out of her door in those tight leather leggings and low-cut top that shows off her tits just the right amount before it becomes indecent. Knowing exactly what those tits look like underneath isn’t helping one bit. The pictures of those tits are now in a locked album on my phone, and I have basically memorised every inch of skin on them I have looked at them so much.
The squeal she made when I pinched her side was the one of the best noises I have ever heard. I just had to hear it again. So, I had pinched her again. And I finally had part of her in my hands and I was making her squirm up against me. My control slipped.
I lost my shit when she snorted and I had doubled over laughing and ended up on the floor, dragging her with me. But fuck, when we we’re down there and she was leant over me, there was no longer an issue of being only half hard. If she had looked down, she would have seen the full effect she has on me.
I itched to drag her fully on top of me so she could wrap her thighs around me, I already had my hands on her hips. I could have made her grind that pussy right over where we both needed it, just to feel her.
I clench my jaw against the image I have created as I take a sip from my drink. We have been sat on a bench in the bar area since I got my ass well and truly whooped at every game here.
I can’t pretend to notice that Em has been a little quiet since I snubbed her before. I know she wanted to kiss me. I could see it in her eyes, the second she decided to do it. It was like all the tension left her and she was finally giving herself permission to do it.
I couldn’t. Because if I did, I wouldn’t have stopped. We would have taken a break, I would have driven us back to her place, and I would be buried so deep inside her right now I would only remember my name because she was screaming it.
‘I thought you had got what you wanted from me’, her voice from when she was drunk on her bathroom floor slams into my mind again. She thinks all she is to me is a fuck. I can’t blame her for seeing me that way, it’s how I have treated women for years. But not this one. She is different. I knew it when I met her. These past few weeks that we have been getting closer have just proved things even more for me.
So, I won’t touch her. Not until she can trust the fact that I won’t just drop her as soon as I have fucked her. I run my hands over my face as I glance over at her. Sighing I say, “I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you earlier.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, um. It’s fine.” She pulls her hair over her shoulder and runs her hands through it, “I didn’t—”
“You did,” I cut her off before she flat out lies to us both. “I wanted to kiss you. Fuck, I desperately want to.”
“So why didn’t you?”
I sigh, “Because it would have led to more. I would have taken you home and in the morning, you would have thought I was done with this.” I gesture between us. “Whatever this is. And I don’t want you to think I’m done with this.”
