Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(62)

The room spins for a split second, which is f*cking weird. Green’s got this shocked expression on her face. Maybe she’s waiting for me to explain myself. I don’t know. But I can’t. So instead, I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“You taste like cherries.”

And I want to taste more of that shit.

“I know.” She’s breathless and shaking. “It’s new. Usually I buy generic ChapStick, but they were out. I grabbed the first thing I saw and─” I press a finger against her lips to shut her up.

“I f*cking love cherries.”

Her expression morphs into something more seductive. Expectant. “Good.”

This time, I don’t think. I’m tired of f*cking thinking tonight.

I slide a hand around her neck and pull her mouth to mine again. Her body softens and her arms ease around my waist like they’ve done it a thousand f*cking times already.

Somehow, this, whatever it is, has turned into something else. If I’m being honest, it did the first time our lips touched.

That’s a sign.

I should stop here, right?

I mean, come on, we all know I should stop here.

Instead, my feet shuffle backward, and she moves with me. When I find the couch, the same damn couch I was avoiding a while ago, I collapse onto the cushions. Before I know it, Green is on top of me, straddled, flushed.

My hands rest on her hips, itching to move, but in the end, it’s not my decision.

She leans in and kisses me hard. My hand tangles in her hair, and after a couple attempts to test the waters, my tongue meets hers. We move like teenagers in some ways. I’m trying to be slow but everything’s moving at an urgent pace. It’s comfortable but not. New, but not.

Her hands rest against my chest at first then move to my shoulders. I’m pretty sure she’s aware of what’s going on between my legs, but she doesn’t seem to be bothered too much by it. Even when I move her hips against me for some kind of relief.

Not that it helps much.

I’m gonna need a lot more than a f*cking grind against my dick to make this itch go away.

Green lets out a small sound that sends blood rushing toward my head.

The one that’s trying to think straight, that is.

As her hands reach around my body to pull herself closer, she spreads her legs a little. If I don’t cut this short immediately, we might very well defile the couch soon. Followed by the coffee table. Maybe the bed after that; I’m not sure. Kinda torn between some wall sex and being f*cking comfortable.

Who am I kidding? That shit will definitely all happen.

Jesus, this feels good.

She feels good.

Baseball stats, baseball stats, baseball stats.

Why can’t I think of a single goddamn baseball stat?

Regardless how very much I’m interested in having Green’s body lying naked on my bed at some point in time this evening, today, whichever, I pull up on the emergency brake.

Either because I’m an idiot. Or intelligent.

I’m going with intelligent.

I break the kiss and let my head fall back, frustrated with my poor judgement.

Green’s breathing is heavy. She’s flushed and confused, if I’m reading the look on her face correctly, which I’m pretty f*cking sure I am.

“Was that another thank you? Because I don’t know if I can handle such niceties.” Her voice is throaty and sexy as hell.

Not helping with the whole wanting to do the right thing here.

I smirk up at her, mildly breathless, my damn self.

“Well played.”

She hums. As we sit there for another minute, she works to control her breathing. She might be good at composing herself in some ways, but her skin is still warm to the touch. I know because my hand has somehow made its way inside her shirt.

Something she’s suddenly very aware of.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s my boob.” She points.

“Right.” I pull my hand out and wiggle my fingers for her. “All done.”

Jesus, I need a cigarette.

Where is that rascally motherf*cker?

Green pushes against my chest to sit up straight while I adjust my dick and try not to be too damn obvious about it.

“Sorry about that,” she starts, with only slight embarrassment. She’s back to reality. “I don’t know what that was.” She pushes some hair behind her ear as she lets out a short laugh.

“I think I do.”

Hormones, ladies and gentlemen. Complicating shit, one horny bastard at a time.

“Well, whatever it was,” she pulls at her top to make herself presentable again, “it was unprofessional, and I apologize.”

I let out a chuckle. “Unprofessional. Seriously?”

That’s what she’s calling it?

“Yes.” She stands and pulls her jacket off the edge of the couch. Like standing and covering herself up is gonna make me forget about the curves I now know lay underneath all that fabric.

I put a hand behind my head. “Well, technically, I started it.” Which is the odd thing because, typically, when I start something, I end it. And I end it well.

Okay, not so well, sometimes.

I digress.

“True. You did. But I ended it.” This statement right here is where I see how Green has this way of trying to come off as completely focused when really she’s got about a million things going on inside that head of hers.