Page 26 of Gigi and the Gym Rats

He tastes, God… Tastes even better than he smells, if that’s even possible. Sweet but also spicy, like vanilla frosting but with a good dash of brandy and candied ginger.

A male cake? Is that a thing?

Very male, I think dizzily as I lift my arms and wind them around his neck, tugging him even closer. Very delicious. Oh my God, never thought a kiss could feel this amazing. It’s gentle, not like the kisses you see in the movies or read in romance novels, his lips moving over mine, sucking lightly, then pulling a little, and oh, wow. My panties are soaked through, I swear.

Then his tongue licks over my lips, touches mine, twines with it, his hands slipping down my neck to my shoulders. It’s so slow and hot and sweet and perfect. What I needed tonight. I’d say it’s like a hug, only hugs don’t normally get me all hot and bothered.

Maybe hugs from hot guys like Casey would?Hm…

His hands slip lower, from my upper arms to my ribs, smoothing down to my waist. He hauls me against him, a slow drag, until I’m sitting on his thigh, and we’re still kissing and kissing, and I can’t get enough.

Can’t get enough of his lips, his taste, the slow dance of his tongue against mine, the slow journey of his hand down my body while the other holds me in place.

Barely feel it when that clever hand dives under the hem of my short black dress, skims up my leg, reaching the top of my stocking, pauses. Then skims higher, reaching my panties.

“Thong,” he whispers against my lips, and he deepens the kiss, swallowing my moan when his finger dives under the lace and finds my clit.

Holy shit.

I moan against his mouth, and he groans, his finger swirling around the hard nub, making me shake. How can that feel so intense, how…?

He presses down on my clit, and I don’t know what’s going on, but I start to come.What?I’m not a one-touch-orgasm kind of girl, but now I’m falling apart, moaning and shaking on his muscled thigh as my core clenches hard, pleasure exploding through me.

Oh, God…

He draws back, panting, and that’s the view I’m treated to when I manage to open my eyes again, ungluing my lashes. His handsome face, eyes dark with arousal, his lips swollen from our kisses, a strain in his features echoing the strain I feel inside his pants where my leg touches his crotch and trapped hard-on.

So I do the only thing I can do under the circumstances—those of a beta girl who’s just broken her self-imposed rule and deviated from her masterplan.

I get up, pull my dress down and flee.

* * *

Of course I didn’t run far. My room is next door, after all, wedged between Casey’s and Ronin’s rooms.

Also, I again left my shoes behind. My shoes and my mind, both. I undress and crawl into bed, certain that I won’t be able to sleep. My body still thrums with pleasure. My mind is still reeling from the fact I kissed my new roommate and let him get me off with his hand, when my resolution had been to stay away from these few people.

I dream of a club with strobing lights, people dancing. But something’s wrong. As I wander among them, I realize they have no faces, blank where eyes and nose and mouth should be. I don’t know what I’m looking for—who I’m looking for—but I think I see a face in the depths of the room, a familiar face.

At first, I think it’s my brother and I hesitate. What if he’s drunk? What if he’s high on drugs and gets aggressive?

But then I realize it’s not him. It’s Ronin. He nods at me and, relieved, I hurry toward him. Another guy turns around and it’s Zayne. They know each other, I know. Ronin frequents the gym, too. As I approach, another man is revealed, and I’m surprised to see the beta from the bar. What is he doing with Ronin?

I’m almost there, but the distance seems to stretch, more and more people crowding in around me, until the three men are hidden from sight.

In a panic, I try to shove my way through. It’s paramount to reach them, somehow I know that deep inside, and I’m afraid I’ll miss them if I don’t make it on time, and not only that, but isn’t one of them missing?

One of my guys.

That’s when someone tugs on my arm, turning me around, and I see another familiar handsome face. He frowns, raises his hand and cups my cheek.

“Girl,” he asks, “are you lost?”

* * *

Are you lost?

No, of course not. Though the words echo inside my pounding head as I brush my teeth in the morning and slog my way to the kitchen. I need coffee. Tea won’t cut it today.

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