Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(74)

“Is that right?” I ask, and I can’t stop my gaze from drifting to her lips.

“Uh-huh,” she whispers back, but she makes no move to disentangle her body from mine. “You’re actually incredibly sweet when you want to be.”

Her words take me by surprise. Honestly, I don’t know what’s changed, but for some reason, I’m finding it hard to be anything but nice to Birdie.

I don’t want to see her mad or angry or frustrated.

I loathe seeing her embarrassed or vulnerable.

I just want to make her smile. And laugh. And happy.

Her gaze flits down to my lips and back to my eyes before making the circuit two more times.

And, fuck, I want to kiss her.

I want to find out what Moscato tastes like from her mouth. I want to feel her soft lips melding against mine. I want to hear that sexy moan falling off her tongue because I’m making her feel good.

I want to do a lot of things right now, but I hesitate, shut my eyes tight, and stop myself from making a move.

But she does the exact opposite.

Her lips to mine, Birdie kisses me.

She. Is. Fucking. Kissing. Me.

Soft at first, until we both deepen it further. Her tongue slips into my mouth and dances with mine. She is sweet like sugar, and I’m certain I could drink Moscato for the rest of my damn life if it meant tasting it like this.

Don’t stop, Birdie. Don’t fucking stop.

She doesn’t stop. She keeps on kissing me and wraps her legs around my waist, her entire body surrounding mine. She grinds her hips against me, and a groan escapes my throat.

Fuck, I want her. Right now.





Birdie



A little voice inside my head warns me.

But the damn thing is easily drowned out by the loudest voice in my head, the one that’s telling me to give in to this. To feel all the things I want to feel with him. To let go and live in the moment and just have some damn fun.

To rent An Officer and a Gentleman and try to get over the fact that I’ve sworn off military penises. Soldiers are good. They’re dependable. They’re courageous. Would it be so bad to be pro Staff Sergeant Dick Richardson?

No. It wouldn’t.

It can’t be anymore. Holding back is driving me crazy.

I feel like we’ve been playing with fire for the past several weeks. Every kissing and intimate scene we filmed only building this undeniable sexual tension between us, and we’ve officially reached the point where we can no longer ignore it.

And I know there are probably a hundred reasons why I should stop this, but hell’s bells, I can’t. I want to keep doing this—kissing him, tasting him, feeling his body against mine.

Andrew deepens the kiss, and I moan against his mouth. My hips move of their own accord, completely out of control and seeking the little jolts of pleasure that occur whenever I feel his thick arousal brush against me.

We are both so caught up in the moment, and, for once, there is no confusion. No cameras rolling or script to follow. There’s no Arizona or Cal.

It’s just me and him. Birdie and Andrew.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He groans against my lips. “I have no idea what is happening right now.”

“Me either, but I don’t think I want it to stop,” I whisper and smash my lips against his, spurring another groan from his throat. I slide my fingers down his chest to his abdomen and stop when I reach the button of his jeans.

“Shit, Birdie,” he mutters, leaning away from our kiss to meet my heady gaze. “Are you sure?”

Am I sure?

Am I really sure?

The aching throb between my thighs answers the question for me.

I nod, and he doesn’t hesitate to walk us toward the bed and lay me down on the mattress.

“God, I can’t think about anything else but putting my mouth on you right now.”

“I could say the same thing, you know.” My hands shake with anticipation as I rest on my elbows and reach forward to grip the waistband of his jeans. The button pops with surprising ease, and I undo the zipper in record time.

My head is filled with crazy thoughts. Most of them horny, sex-fueled desires, but a few of them are all, like, “What in the hell am I doing? Am I really going to have sex with Andrew Watson?”

But before I can even think, with my help, Andrew’s jeans and boxer briefs are a distant memory on the floor. And he stands there before me, his hard, thick cock jutting out from his body impressively.

Holy huge penis. Size thirteen definitely makes a whole lot of sense right now.

“You’re absolutely certain, Birdie?” he asks, one final confirmation that I’m giving him permission to do all sorts of dirty, sexy things to me.

Holy huge penis and hot body, yes. I want all the sexy things.

“Uh-huh.” I nod and bite my lip, my gaze hungrily flitting between his mesmerizing eyes and his full lips and his thick arousal. I sit up and take off my shirt and bra just to punctuate my willingness.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his eyes raking over my breasts, and I shiver.

He kneels before me, his hands reaching up to undo the button of my jeans and slide them down my thighs. My panties are next. And then, I’m completely naked.

We’re completely naked.

My breaths come out in short pants as he lifts my thighs to rest over his shoulders, and he gazes hungrily between my thighs.