The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(35)

“It’s pretty much always been just Mom and me. She’s a hardass. Doesn’t let me get away with shit.”

“Are you close?”

“Thick as thieves.”

We’ve been in his truck, making out heavily for the better part of an hour.

He works his lips against my neck.

“So, you’re still close with your mom?”

He pauses, his breath warm in my ear. “Let’s change the subject, not really in the mood to talk about Mom.”

Nerves still firing off, I stutter out more conversation as his lips glide over my skin.

“You,” I sputter as his tongue traces the shell of my ear, “oh damn,” I murmur, clutching him to me as his teeth sink into my flesh, “have a better subject in mind?”

“Fuck yes, I do,” he inches my skirt up, his warm hands covering my thighs in a gentle caress. “This okay?”

“I never do this,” I moan into his mouth.

“Uh huh, you’ve said. Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” With permission, he begins to explore.

“Clarissa,” he whispers so heatedly, my panties flood. “I need words.”

I decide on action instead and bring his hand to my center. He pushes my panties to the side and circles my entrance with the pad of his finger. He groans when he feels me soaked at his fingertips, the rumble in his chest spurring me on as I buck into his touch. It’s been so long. I need relief, I need to feel. I need something more than dark chocolate and my vibrator to get me through. I’ve been good. I’ve been better than good. I’ve been a saint since my last breakup. Looking up at Troy, I watch as he expertly plays me, his touch intoxicating, his voice pure temptation. He’s golden and beautiful and the perfect way to end months of celibacy.

“Feels so good,” I murmur to his lips as his eyes gleam brightly from where he hovers above me in the back of his severely mistreated Dodge. He’d offered to take me somewhere else, but I’d insisted we keep it at the bar parking lot until I was sure I could trust him. Until I was sure of what I wanted.

With his next kiss, the next deep thrust of his tongue, he slips a finger inside me, and I bow off the seat as he starts fucking me with it, adding another until I’m a puddle of ‘please’ beneath him.

“Troy, I need more.” I breathe out, on the verge as he brushes my clit in time with the glide of his fingers. My body shudders with the tidal wave as I come while he kisses me, his tongue and fingers working me while I convulse with pleasure beneath him. When we break apart, my forehead is covered in sweat. He studies me from above, chest heaving. It’s become abundantly clear what I want. Admiring him in the dim cabin, I grip his neck and pull his mouth to mine, kissing him with pure desire. He is by far the most beautiful man to ever touch me, and I don’t want it to end. He pulls away, satisfaction covering his lips, his beautiful bright blue eyes hooded by alcohol and desire.

“You okay?”

“Perfect.”

“Good, because I’m just getting started.”

In his room, I cross my legs to stifle the throb between them and stare at his bed. His sheets rumpled from the night before. Briefly, I wonder about his type. He could have any pick of women, and from the few I’ve seen him escort out, it’s clear that’s the truth. I have to admit I expected to argue a lot more about his timeliness, about his repertoire with his son, but none of those fears have ever come to light. If he says he’ll be somewhere, he’s on time. If he offers to do something, he follows through. I wonder if he’s still as giving in the sack. If memory serves me, he’s overly generous.

Curiosity gets the best of me as I snoop through a stack of books in the corner of his room. He’s well-read, which doesn’t surprise me. The night we met, not only was he a feast for the eyes, he could hold a decent conversation, slipping past the superficial and putting me at ease. Searching through his underwear drawer, I pull out some briefs and see his half-empty cologne bottle. I pick it up and sniff, inhaling the heavenly scent before my phone buzzes in my fanny pack.



Troy: Are you sniffing my cologne?



Caught red-handed, I drop the bottle and turn to see him in Dante’s empty bedroom, the phone to his ear, wearing a towel and nothing else.

I had no time to admire him when he was stripping, the two of us were much too frantic. The phone rings in my hand, and I see his name pop up. Even with him so far away, I can see the dare in his posture to answer it.

I’m not supposed to want to, but I do.

“I’m just grabbing a T-shirt.”

“Do you think about that night?” His voice is low, gravelly, and sexy as hell. My mouth goes dry as I stand at his window, my breaths coming faster. When I don’t answer, he prompts me again.

“Be honest. Do you think about it?”

“D-d-do you?” my voice is just as affected. “Do you even remember it?”

“It was the hottest fucking night of my life. Of course, I remember it. And I remember how good it felt with you stretched around me. Even after all these years.”

“Troy, we can’t—”

“You tasted sweet, and I loved the way you let out those moans of yours, the way your breath caught when you came. The way you kissed me back. Fuck, the way you kissed me back. You didn’t hold back with me. I remember that the most.”