That Secret Crush (Getting Lucky #3)(20)

But even now, there’s no turning back—and only one way to find out where this is all going to lead.

“Eve,” he says, his deep voice sending a wave of chills over my skin. “Turn around. Let me see you.”

This is happening.

My pulse roaring in my ears, drowning out the pitter-patter of the shower, I shakily turn around and look up into his mesmerizing eyes. Thick black eyelashes frame those matching blue pools, and instead of a sly or wicked smile curving his lips, all I can see is true yearning and desire as he reaches down and pulls me in closer.

My hands fall to his brawny chest, and a light smattering of trimmed hair tickles my fingers. Too nervous to look down, I stare up into his eyes, and he returns my gaze, never glancing any farther down than my neck. Instead, he explores with his hands.

And it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever felt.

His teeth nip at his bottom lip while his hands travel up my ribs, straight to my breasts, and he takes one in each hand. His calloused thumbs swipe over my hardened nipples, and his eyes glaze over when he takes each nipple between his fingers, pulling a gasp of pleasure from my lips.

“Shit,” he mutters, eyes still trained on mine. “Eve . . .” He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead, he keeps one hand on my breast as the other starts to travel south. That’s when I stop him—because it’s my turn.

I take his wrist and move his hand back up to my breast before trailing my fingers down over his pecs and then farther down, reveling in the thick divots of his abdomen, exploring each and every one of them, still holding his gaze.

Smooth skin twitches beneath my fingers as his breathing picks up. I glide my hands lower and lower until I reach the V in his waist. I drag my fingers along the deep valley that leads straight to his lower half.

“Fuck,” he says through his teeth, practically hissing when my fingers dance close to his erection.

His hand travels down my body again to just above my pubic bone, where he swipes his thumb lower. I spread my legs slightly wider, my eyes never leaving his.

I move my hand lower.

He does the same.

My fingers glide so close to the root of his cock that he hitches forward.

His fingers swipe across my slit quickly, and that’s when my gaze breaks and my eyes shut.

I count to three, mentally preparing myself right before I close the rest of the distance and wrap my hand around his cock.

Thick.

Hard.

More than I anticipated. So much more.

I can’t take it anymore. I glance down, and all the air escapes my lungs as I take him, all of him, in. Perfectly sculpted stomach, powerfully strong quads—probably from all the balancing he has to do out on the boat—and his cock, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.

When I look back up at him, his eyes are glazed over, his gaze heated as he stares down at me.

His hands trail back up my body, and he lightly cups my breasts, testing their weight, seeing them for the first time. I use that moment to glide my hand up and down his length, testing his sensitivity with a little pressure and then a whole lot. When I squeeze the top, his eyes practically roll to the back of his head as he leans past me and shuts off the water.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I ask, a shiver running through me.

“Not here—in your bed,” he says, his voice heavy.

He whips the shower curtain open and throws two towels over the both of us before scooping me up into his arms and hauling me to my bedroom. It’s dark with only the smallest amount of streetlight bouncing off the snow and through the sliver of windows in my basement room. Reid leans over to the nightstand and flips on the dull light, illuminating the room in an orange-and-yellow glow. It’s perfect, just enough light so I can see every sculpted inch of Reid’s body.

Hovering above me on the bed, he parts the towel and stares down at my body, his eyes roaming, taking their time, until he says, “How drunk are you?”

I blink a few times, caught off guard. Is he drunk? Honestly, I don’t even feel the slightest bit tipsy—I think the situation has sobered me up.

“I don’t think I’m drunk at all.”

“Are you sure?” I nod. “Good, because I plan on doing some dirty things to you tonight, and I want you remembering every single lick, every kiss, every thrust.”

If I wasn’t already turned on, I would be now. In the back of my mind, I always figured Reid would be good in bed, maybe even a little more adventurous than me, and from that sentence alone, I know I was right.

He leans down and runs his nose along my jaw. “Just to clarify, you want me to fuck you, right?” he asks, his voice a soft tickle against my skin. “You want me to taste that sweet pussy of yours and then spread your legs and bury my cock so deep inside of you that you don’t think I could fill you any more . . . until I go that extra inch.” He bites down on my earlobe, making me gasp. “You want that, right, Eve?”

“God, yes,” I moan, surprising myself with how desperate I sound.

“Good.” He presses his lips across my jaw to my cheek and then to my mouth, connecting our mouths for the first time. He takes his time, molding our lips together but never going any farther past them. He keeps it sweet, just exploring the surface as his hand gently trails down my ribs and between my legs, which I spread for him.

Mouth still on mine, he lowers himself to the bed, resting on his side so I can spread my legs even farther, before he takes one finger and rubs it up and down my slit, over the sensitive nub that’s already throbbing and yearning for release.