The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(53)

We stand in each other’s arms as if we haven’t seen each other for a month. I want to blurt out that I missed him today . . . but I won’t.

Because that’s not the game we’re playing.

“How was your day?” he asks as we begin to walk. He takes my hand in his and kisses my fingertips.

“Long . . . hellish.” I sigh.

“How’s your tummy? I was worried when you were ill this morning.”

I poke him in the ribs. “Did you ever think you would ever be worried about period pain?” I tease.

He chuckles. “Definitely not.”

“Are the pharmacies still open?” I hold my aching tummy. “I need to find a heat pack somewhere.”

“Is it still hurting?” He frowns.

“I’ve just had some paracetamol. It will be fine in a little while.”

We go to a few pharmacies, and they’re all closed.

“I’ll be fine. The pills are working already. Let’s just go home.”

“You sure?” he asks.

I smile. Who knew that my player friend would be so caring? Underneath all that popular bullshit, he’s an absolute sweetheart.

We get back to the hostel and into our room. Basil is working tonight and won’t be home until late.

“You heading out?” I ask.

“No.” He frowns. “Unless . . . do you want to go out?”

“No, I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”

“Sounds good to me.”

We head into the bathroom and take showers. I get dressed in my pajamas and head into the room.

Christopher is already in my bed, and my stomach does a little flip.

We’ve been sleeping together lately, tangled together beneath the sheets. Our bodies snug up against each other.

And I feel so close to him that . . . I can’t explain it. It’s a weird situation.

I climb in beside him, and he rolls onto his side. “I found a heat pack.”

“Did you? Where?”

He puts his large hand over my lower stomach. “How’s this?” he whispers.

We stare at each other in the darkness, electricity crackling between us.

“Better,” I breathe.

This is the first time we’ve been alone in our room. Usually there are four other people with us, all chatting and laughing.

Tonight, it’s different.

There’s something in the air . . . something more.

His face is millimeters from my face, his big warm hand protective over my stomach, and a sense of belonging pours over me.

“What are you doing here with me?” I whisper. “You should be out chasing girls.”

“You’re my only girl,” he whispers.

We stare at each other.

And I desperately want to believe him . . . but I don’t know if I’m brave enough to let myself go there. But I want to . . .

“Chris . . .”

He leans down and kisses me. Softly . . . tenderly.

Perfectly.





Chapter 12


He pulls back, and his eyes search mine as if waiting for approval. His lips take mine again, only this time I can’t help myself. I kiss him back. My tongue gently curling around his, my hand sliding up over his strong shoulders.

We kiss again and again, and he rolls me onto my back and wraps my leg around his waist. His body leans half over mine, and I can feel the large erection in his boxers as it grows against my thigh.

Oh . . .

He’s so muscular and big and . . . frigging hell, I’ve never been with a man like this.

Our kisses get deeper and more heated, inferno hot, and we lose control.

He pulls my leg up aggressively; my knee is now near his chest as his lips drop to my neck.

He bites me and trails his lips over my skin, his erection rubbing on my panties. Holy fucking hell . . .

His teeth gently tug at my bottom lip, and I feel it deep in my sex.

Yes.

He rolls over so that he’s on top of me, his body cradled between my legs, and he begins to slowly slide up and down over my sweet spot as we kiss.

My legs wrap around his waist, an unstoppable force building between us. An atomic bomb, waiting to explode. I need this.

Fuck, I need this.

I grab the waistband of his boxers and slide them down. His large cock springs free, and then I remember.

Oh no.

It’s that time of the month . . . what the hell? This is the worst timing ever!

“Shit,” I mutter.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs against my lips as he kisses me. He hasn’t forgotten at all.

Why did I take his boxers off if I can’t do anything?

You idiot.

He pulls my pajama top off over my head and smiles as he looks down at my breasts. He bends and takes my nipple into his mouth. His eyes flutter closed in ecstasy. “Yes,” he whispers. His hands roam up and down my body as if he doesn’t know where to touch me first, his hips gently pumping by themselves.

My heart is in my throat as I watch. Seeing him like this is a new level of excitement. He’s so lost in the moment, so aroused that I swear I could come just by watching him. Let alone how good he feels.

He grabs the waistband of my pajamas and goes to pull them down.

“Chris,” I whisper. “We’re not.”