Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(32)
An ache grows in my chest the longer my feet stay glued to the concrete. My body is at war with itself, an inner turmoil of unknown feelings and alarming reactions making me gulp for air, hoping to clear my head. And when I come to terms with the hard fact that I’ve never found myself in this position before—being somebody that might be able to bring comfort to someone else—I want to turn and run faster than I did when I first attempted to leave her in the parking lot. Yet a larger part of me wants to be exactly what Sierra needs to feel comforted, to dry the fat tear cascading down her cheek before more follow after it.
When I acknowledge that I won’t be able to keep my distance any longer with the deep-rooted frown pulling at her mouth, I call her name. The sound is gruff and almost angry, regardless of how hard I try to come off gentle and unaffected.
She doesn’t respond, just wraps her arms around herself in what I can only assume to be a way of warming herself up. Seeing her trembling from a mixture of her soaking wet clothes, the cold, and her inner struggle makes me close the distance between us. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and tuck her into my chest with a heavy, guilt-laced sigh. “You’re going to get sick.”
Sierra exhales a shuddered breath while leaning into me, but she keeps her arms by her sides. I try not to think too much of it and focus on the way her breathing begins to steady instead, each puff of hot air creating a burning sensation on my frozen chest. Her touch is electric, sparking under the water running off our bodies. The tingle it leaves on my skin makes it hard to focus—hard to remember where and who we are. It’s addicting. It enthralls me and makes my brain fuzzy. I fight to keep my thoughts in place but manage to distract myself with the sounds of raindrops smacking car roofs and windshields, tires screeching on wet pavement, and voices chatting in the restaurant behind us.
I’ve never been so grateful for mindless background noise in my life.
When I think she’s a bit more relaxed, I try again to lead us to my car, desperate to both get out of the rain before we come down with hypothermia and get away from Sierra so that I can breathe again.
“Wait. Not yet.” She pulls away until we’re a few inches apart and presses her hands to my pecs, fingers splayed out. She wears a look of embarrassment that has my jaw tightening, a growl of frustration vibrating in my chest. It was the same embarrassment that I saw when she reached her table inside, and having her look at me the same way has my fists clenching until my palms burn, letting me know that I’ve broken the thick skin with my nails.
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you back there. I should have been able to handle them myself,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion, sounding utterly defeated. Her thumbs rub my wet shirt over and over before she grips it in a fist.
Furrowing my eyebrows, I shake my head. “You shouldn’t have had to handle them in the first place. And I meant what I said before. It wasn’t a big deal.” I feel myself shrugging.
“It was a big deal to me.”
It was?
She nods, letting her eyes drop to my mouth. Her reaction has me realizing that I said my words out loud. But I don’t have time to kick myself in the ass about it before she’s pressing her lips gently against mine. I blink a few times before kissing her back, tasting her tears and fighting back the urge to go inside and throw my fist around. I busy myself touching her instead, using her body to calm and steady me. I grab her face in my hands and try to warm her skin by rubbing my thumbs across her sharp cheekbones.
We need to get to the car. I know that I need to get us warm, but when I move my hands to her hips and pull her flush against me, I don’t think my legs would move even if I tried. A set of furious shivers rack through my body, but I’m not sure if it’s from the cold anymore.
The rain continues pounding down around us and our clothes are soaked, yet neither of us care. The only thing I care about right now is how good her chest feels pressed up against mine and how badly she makes me want to be inside of her. Whether it be in a public bathroom, my bed, or outside in the pouring rain, I can’t get enough of her. I could spend all day with my mouth against hers.
Her lips part as she pulls away, yet manages to stay close enough to brush her nose against mine. “Can you bring me home now?”
I don’t need to be asked twice.
Sierra flicks her bedroom light on before slowly turning to me—wearing a coy, almost shy smile—and pushing off her wet dress. She lets what was once light-blue fabric fall to the ground with a thump, so wet that it must weigh a few pounds. Her eyes shine with a playfulness that has my lips twitching.
My mouth waters at the sight of her naked body. My cock hardens in my jeans, feeling near painful with how tight they have become since becoming so heavy and wet from the rain. Her breasts spill from the top of her cream-coloured laced bra, needing to be let out and held firmly in my eager palms. I swallow the space between us and reach behind her, unclasping and throwing her bra away. Without preamble I grab her hips and pull her to stand in front of me as I sit on the edge of her bed. Leaning forward, I catch her nipple in my mouth, sucking and biting at the rosy bud.
“Yes,” she sighs in approval, attempting to close her eyes and fall into the moment. But I reach up and collar her throat before she has the chance, refusing to let her look away from me. Her eyes widen with both shock and a hot flash of need that makes my grip on her tighten.