Page 95 of Racking Up Penalties
Tessa turns slightly, her breath catching as our eyes meet—a storm of hazel swirling with emotions that mirror my own. Her fingers, tentative yet deliberate, trace the line of my jaw.
“Your skin…” She breathes out, her gaze following the path her fingers take across my face. “It’s so smooth.” Each word is laced with wonder, tinged with a yearning that resonates in the small space between us.
I lean into her caress, closing my eyes for a fleeting second to savor the intimacy of the moment. The feel of her touch ignites a spark, stirring the pleasure that always simmers beneath my surface when I’m near her.
“Does it feel good?” she asks quietly.
“More than you know,” I confess, opening my eyes to lock onto hers once again.
The distance between us dwindles to nothing as my hands find the curve of her waist, pulling her into me. Tessa’s slight frame fits perfectly against my own, and I can feel the heat radiating from her, seeping into my skin and stoking the fire that’s been quietly crackling in the pit of my stomach.
“I love you, Tessa,” I confess softly.
Her face lights up making me feel like a god. “I love you too, Ethan.”
Our bodies meld together as if they’re two pieces of a puzzle long separated, now clicking into place. My heart hammers out a rhythm that seems to sync with hers.
Our mouths meet in an inevitable collision. It’s a kiss that ignites instantly, our tongues finding a tempo all their own, a dance of passion and need that spirals quickly out of control.
Her taste is intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and spice that leaves me craving more. There’s a fervor to our movements, a desperation born of too many nights spent wondering, wanting. The kiss deepens, grows hungrier, as if we’re both trying to consume the other.
The world narrows down to just this—the press of her lips, the entwining of limbs, the shared pulse racing beneath her skin.
My hands begin to chart a map of desire across Tessa’s body. With every inch explored, her skin blooms with a warmth that seeps into my fingertips, sending a rush of heat coursing through me. The softness of her curves, the delicate dip of her waist—it’s all more intoxicating than I could have imagined.
“Ethan,” she breathes out, her voice a mix of wonder and want. Her hazel eyes, usually so playful and bright, now smolder with a depth of feeling that mirrors my own.
Her fingers fumble with the hem of my shirt, and though her movements are less sure than mine, they’re charged with an eagerness that sends shivers down my spine.
The cool air of the room hits my chest, contrasting sharply against the heat of her palms as they press against my exposed skin.
“Your turn,” Tessa says, a playful challenge in her eyes.
I have her shirt over her head and off before she can blink.
“Better?” I ask, my voice rough with longing.
“Much,” she replies.
I lift Tessa onto my lap. Her petite frame fits against mine perfectly and her breath comes out in hot bursts, matching the erratic thumping of my heart.
“God, Ethan,” she whispers, her voice laced with urgency.
“Shh,” I murmur back, my hands steadying her hips.
Our movements are frantic. I revel in the feeling of her, all soft curves and fiery spirit, as she matches my every movement with one of her own. She clings to me, fingers digging into my shoulders, anchoring herself to the moment, to me.
I grind her down over my cock with our pants still between us.
“More,” she gasps, and I can only nod because words have become unnecessary. They’re lost in the whirlwind of sensation that is Tessa Montgomery on my lap, under my skin, in the fibers of my being.
Her forehead pressed against mine and I know I made the right decision bringing her here.
It feels right. This girl is everything to me. She deserves everything I can give and I plan on making sure she gets it.
Chapter 42
Heat pools at my core as Ethan’s body molds against mine, a relentless rhythm that stokes the fire within me. Our shirts are discarded on the floor. His breath is hot on my skin, and I can’t help but arch into him, craving more of his touch, more of this delirious friction that sends sparks skittering across my nerve endings.
