Beauty and the Baller (Strangers in Love #1)(65)

“I want you desperately,” I whisper in her ear.

When I move, it’s with no holds barred. My mouth meshes with hers as my hands clasp her lower back, and we fuck. I thrust inside her, deep and hard, the pleasure vibrating over every inch of my skin. Our breaths are loud, gasping, as I pump in and out. She tightens her muscles around me, and I groan.

“Do that again.”

She rotates her hips and tightens her pussy as I tilt her face up and kiss her. Again and again.

This is what I’ve wanted. That primal part of me that recognizes its prey. Her.

“I want to fuck you every which way I can,” I growl.

She kisses down my neck, then bites me. “How?”

“Against the wall. I’ll stand.”

I slip out of her, my dick swollen and red, aching. We stand up, and I pick her up as her legs lock around my hips. I flip her around to the wall, then push inside her. She groans as I delve deep in her channel, angling my hips to rub against her upper wall. A bead of sweat drips down her face, and my tongue takes it. My head lowers to her neck as I breathe in her scent. Shivers dance down my spine as she tugs my hair, pulling my lips back to hers.

She slips a hand between us, her fingers moving.

“You’re mine,” she breathes into my mouth as she orgasms, and the fact that she says such a possessive thing is so hot it sends me over the cliff. My cock expands inside her, then jerks, my body shuddering as I wring it out, diving into her depths, not wanting it to be over. Juices drip down our legs as electric pulses skate over me. My arms quake, and I ease her to the floor and lie down with her over my chest. My heart pounds erratically as I try to slow my breathing.

We don’t speak for several minutes, our bodies tangled together.

She props her head up and gives me a wry look, one that makes me smile.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m sticky, and this floor has got to be killing your back.”

“I’m fine.” I ease up and reach over, grab some unopened paper towels, and tear off a few. I slide down to her waist and clean her gently, then toss them in the trash by the door.

The floor is uncomfortable, yet we lie side by side and look at each other. She has a glow on her face, a satisfied look in her eyes, one that I put there, but something else takes front and center. I want to enjoy this moment, but . . .

“I didn’t wear a condom,” I say, grimacing.

She chews on her lip. “I know. I’m, um, on the pill . . .”

I exhale. “I haven’t had sex without a condom in years.”

“Oh. Okay, so you’re good?”

“If you mean if I’ve had an STD test, I have. Have you?” I ask.

“After Zane, yes.”

My mood darkens. I hate that bastard, and it has shit to do with football.

And why is that? the logical side of my brain asks.

A slow panic builds in my chest like a heavy boulder, growing bigger and bigger. Sure, part of it is about the lack of a condom, but the other side . . .

My head races with thoughts as I lay out the facts: I’m insanely jealous of Andrew, of any man who’s had her attention, and I look forward to our games in the teacher lounge. Hell, I rush from class to get there first just so I can watch her walk in. Honest? If it took lice to have her in my house, dancing and singing, then I’d do it all over again. It’s not even about the sex, which is intoxicating; it’s the emotional, needy side of me that’s humming for more.

As that kernel of truth hits me, the air in the room thins as my anxiety turns to full-blown fear.

My hands tremble, and I tuck them behind my head, hoping she doesn’t notice. Reaching for control, I suck in deep breaths, wrestling with my head as I battle an undeniable tug toward her combined with this awful, sinking dread . . .

I mean, let’s be honest. I’m no good for Nova. I’m no good for anyone.

Point blank: I’m not what a girl like her deserves.

I can’t be relied on. I can’t protect people. I’m leaving!

She’s trying to start a new life, and here I am, screwing it up. I’m going to hurt her. I am!

I swallow and find my voice. It sounds normal. Thank God. “I shouldn’t have done that. I mean, the pill isn’t one hundred percent effective . . .”

Our gazes cling, and she’s quiet, scanning my face. Okay, maybe my voice shook a little.

I drop my eyes. She’s an intuitive person. She knows.

“You should have said something before,” she says in a tight voice.

“There wasn’t time, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Really.” Her eyes narrow.

I scrub my face. “Will you let me know when you start your period?”

She eases up. “Huh. I see. Okay, well, it’s due soon. I’ll be sure to keep you updated on my menstrual flow.”

I try to take her hand, but she evades me. “Hey,” I say. “Don’t be upset.”

“Don’t tell me how to feel.”

I sigh. “I’m not prepared to be a father, Nova. I don’t want a surprise baby or entanglements—”

“I told you I’m on the pill, so chill. You won’t have any entanglements from me.” She stands and jerks up her thong and shorts, sliding them on. Then her bra and shirt.