My So-Called Sex Life (How to Date, #1)(55)

“Let’s do it,” she says, bursting with excitement.

I expect Alecia to whoop the loudest since she’ll get her steak, but they’re all wonderfully deafening. Her friends holler and cheer with her, and the other readers join in too, even Steven, and Uma the Redheaded College Girl, along with her crew.

“Can we put this on our social?” Jackie asks.

It seems fitting that the Book Besties should break the news after their role in bringing us back together. “Works for me if it’s good for Hazel,” I say.

My train roommate can’t seem to contain her excitement. “It’s very good for me. You’re like fairy godmothers.”

Jackie squeals. “Matchmakers, hon. We’re matchmakers,” Jackie says, then grabs her phone, presumably to make the news official.

Over at her table, Amy’s cheering while Bettencourt watches her intently, a smile tilting his mouth.

“It’s a train trip reunion,” she says, then holds up a glass of champagne. Bettencourt clinks his glass with hers, then clears his throat. “To the magic of trains bringing people together.”

It’s heady, this midnight celebration as we cross the border into France. Heady and dizzy and scary. Maybe I’ve jumped too soon. Or maybe I didn’t jump soon enough.

Either way, there’s no turning back, and I’m good with that.

I’m only nervous about one thing—how Hazel will react to what I have to tell her. The role I played in the end of her and Max.





27





SEX MISCHIEF


Axel

But my thing will have to wait. At our compartment, Hazel grabs my shirt collar before the door has time to clang shut.

She yanks me to her in the dark and covers my lips with hers.

Hazel is a woman who knows her mind.

That is such a turn-on.

She’s rough and hungry. A tiger who wants her prey—me. I happily let her devour my face. Yes, my face. She’s kissing me hard, ruthlessly, and she’s not stopping at my lips. She’s kissing along my jaw, running her cheek against my scruff. “Mmm, stubble,” she murmurs, then she reaches my ear and nips on the lobe.

“Do that again and I’ll be bending you over the bed in no time,” I say in a rough growl.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” she taunts, then pulls back and looks at me, those green eyes twinkling with utter mischief.

Sex mischief.

“The bedroom is no place for threats, so it’s a promise,” I say.

With flames in her eyes, she drags her hand down my chest. “Good, because I’ve been thinking all day about what happens to Lacey.”

“Have you now?”

“I think her hero fucks her against the window in the train as the French countryside speeds by.”

My sexy romance writer has a filthy mind, and I am here for it.

I turn the tables on her, clasping her gorgeous face and slamming my mouth to hers, tasting her, consuming her.

She wants real, raw, unfiltered passion, and I intend to give it to her that way. As I kiss her with a little hurt in it, I undo her jeans roughly, tug at her top harshly. Soon, I’ve stripped her to nothing.

She’s naked in front of me, the moonlight shining across her creamy skin. Her perky tits point right at me. The look in her eyes is both vulnerable and turned on.

She glances down at her chest. “Do you want my tits pressed against the window?” She asks it like it costs her something to say that. But like it frees her too. To have book sex.

“I fucking do,” I tell her. “Go stand there. Now.”

She practically sprints. Fine, it’s only ten feet away, maybe less, but what a sight, that peach of an ass wiggling as she scurries.

Then, she presses her hands on the glass, tits pressed, ass up. I stalk over to her, taking off my glasses and setting them on the table, tugging off my shirt and tossing it to the floor.

From my wallet, I grab a condom, and once that’s safely in hand, I undo my jeans, take out my eager cock, and smack her ass with it.

“Oh!” she yelps.

“Like that?”

I know she does. She’s already moaning. But I’m pretty sure she likes to talk in bed. She likes the chance to say the things she’s only ever written or read.

“Do it again,” she urges.

Gripping the base, I slap my dick against her sweet ass. One cheek, then another, then I rub my hard-on between her thighs, where she’s soaked. “Were you like this all day? Wet and needy for me?”

“I was a hot mess,” she says, bowing her back, her body saying take me now.

What a wild admission. Hazel Valentine walked around Barcelona while hot and horny for me.

I press my palm between her shoulder blades, gently but firmly pushing her forward so those fantastic tits smush against the cold glass. “You were writing this scene all day, weren’t you?”

“Yes. While you talked, I wrote sex in my head.” She shudders as if reveling in whatever wicked feelings are whooshing through her body right now.

“You dirty woman.” I praise her as I push against her, my cock sliding between her folds, gliding against her wetness.

I’m a live wire, sparking everywhere.

But I want tonight to be even better than last night—for her. It’s a tall order, but I’m up to the task, especially when she trembles, then turns her face to me. “Need you.”