Slow Play (The Rules #3)(70)

She makes a face. “Don’t mock Kelli. She’s frustrated.”

“Over what?” I settle on the edge of Alexandria’s bed and watch while she mills about her room, grabbing a hair tie as she piles her hair on top of her head and puts it into a sloppy bun.

I like it when she does that. I pretty much like it when she does anything.

“Steven. They’re still playing the I-don’t-like-you-but-I-do game.” She rolls her eyes. “They need to just do it and get it out of the way.”

“That sounds familiar,” I say with a smile, earning a slap on the arm for my efforts.

“You know my reasoning behind taking it slow,” she chastises, completely adorable. And I never think a chick is adorable. “You said you were okay with it.”

“I am. I swear.” My mouth goes dry when she reaches for the hem of her sweatshirt and lifts it up. And up, until she’s revealing her bare stomach and the sexy as f*ck sports bra she’s wearing. It covers a lot but Jesus. Where did she get that thing? “What the hell sort of fresh torture is this?”

She tugs her shirt completely off and tosses it on the nearby chair. “What’s wrong with my sports bra?” She glances down at herself, even more adorable than she was before.

I wave a hand, indicating for her to come closer. She does as I ask, stopping directly in front of me and I reach up, toying with the little zipper handle with my index finger. “This. This is what’s wrong with your sports bra. It f*cking unzips.” Right down the center. One tug and I could see everything.

And that’s all I can think about. Me, unzipping the bra slowly and revealing those perfect small tits with the rosy nipples. Spending the rest of the afternoon sucking on them, the both of us naked in her tiny bed.

Rolling her eyes, she bats my hand away and takes a step back. “What’s the big deal? So it’s a zipper.”

“A zipper that comes undone and offers me a glimpse of the promised land,” I immediately retort.

Alexandria rolls her eyes. “Are you calling my breasts the promised land?”

“I will call them the Statue of Liberty and Mount Everest all rolled up in one to prove to you how magical your tits really are,” I say solemnly.

She bursts out laughing, shaking her head. “You are seriously unreal.”

I bounce on the edge of her bed, bracing my hands on the mattress. “How big is this bed anyway?”

“It’s a queen. So sorry it’s not a California king or whatever you have back at your place. Some of us peasants can only afford so much.” She sniffs and tilts her nose. Is she joking? Please God, tell me she’s joking. “I bet your bed is even custom-made.”

It is. The mattress and box spring are longer to accommodate my height. “You never complained when you were in it.”

Her cheeks turn crimson. “Do you always have to circle back to sex?”

“Where you’re concerned? Hell, yeah.” I grab her about the waist and pull her in between my legs, my hand sprawled across her butt. She’s wearing spandex black leggings that leave nothing to the imagination. As in, all I see are her long, long legs and her perfect ass. “A man only has so much patience.”

“Are you saying you’re giving up on me already?” She rests her hands on my shoulders just as I lean in and press my mouth against her bared belly.

“Never,” I murmur against her warm, slightly salty skin. I kiss her there. Gentle, feather-light kisses, again and again, doing my best not to miss an inch of skin with my lips. She trembles beneath my mouth, a shaky sigh leaving her when I lick the curve of her belly button.

“Tristan, what are you doing?”

I tilt my head back and she runs her hand over my hair. “What does it look like I’m doing?” I kiss along her ribcage while she tugs on my hair. I guess she wants me to stop? Why?

“I’m sweaty. I should take a shower.”

“No way. I like you sweaty.” I run my mouth along the edge of her sports bra, breathe deep her wildflower scent. Is it the lotion she uses? Or maybe her perfume? I need to ask her. But not now. “It’s your fault you know.”

“My fault for what?” She huffs out incredulous laughter when I look up at her, my eyes narrowed.

“Tempting me with your sexy zipper bra and your spandex.” I smack one ass check lightly, making her stumble. “You really think I’d be on my best behavior when you’re dressed like this?”

“If I didn’t like you, I’d take offense to that remark,” she starts, her voice firm. Did I just press all of her feminist buttons? Shit. I didn’t mean anything by what I said. “Women don’t wear clothing just to be objectified by men, you know.”

“Yeah, but you wear your sexy bras and panties just to drive me wild with lust. Don’t deny it, you know it’s true. You admitted it yourself a few nights ago,” I point out.

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, contemplating me. Her fingers are still in my hair, sifting through it carefully. As if it brings her joy to touch me. “Wild with lust?”

I nod. “Uh huh. And now this.” I reach up and toy with the zipper, giving it a little tug. It slides down easily, revealing gloriously bare skin. “I love zippers.”

She smiles, her eyes glowing as she watches me. “Really?”