Catching Liam (Good Girls Don't) by Sophia Bleu Page A

my every intention to play hard to get, my fingers reached for his chest. I trailed my hands down, my fingertips practically vibrating over his washboard abs, but when I got to his jeans, he reached down, his mouth still over mine, and brought my arms up to his neck. I forgot the slight instantly as his teeth caught my tongue ever so lightly. I moaned, and he drew me closer, pressing our mouths harder together, to stifle the noise. His lips trailed away from my mouth, sketching across my jawline and finding my ear. He nibbled at it, and I had to clamp my mouth shut. It would set a bad precedent if we got kicked out of every place we went to together.
    “Like secondary school, remember?” he breathed to me.
    I couldn’t help but remember the torture that was a high school date. There was always plenty of kissing and tongues and a fair bit of awkward groping. I’d even gotten the courage up to go down on my boyfriend senior year in a theater not unlike this one, but for the most part, a high school date was like being pumped full of aphrodisiacs and then put in separate glass boxes. There were always too many clothes and zippers and buttons.
    But there was also the fear—of getting caught, of going one step too far. The fear was nearly as all-consuming as the hormones, and the fear made every single nerve in my body tingle with nervous anticipation. And then there was the possibility. That this would be the time he slipped his hand down my pants and magically knew exactly what to do. I could act shocked afterwards.
    Liam and I were already well past this stage. I’d barely known his name when we covered all the old bases.
    “I wouldn’t have had the guts to do this in high school,” I whispered to him, running a hand quickly over his crotch. I could feel that he was rock hard under his jeans, but Liam pushed my hand away again.
    “You don’t want me to?” I asked.
    “Oh, chicken, I want you to,” he said in a husky voice. “But I’ll be able to screw you six ways to Sunday if you keep your hands off me.”
    So that’s what this was about. Suddenly I made contact with my inner, horny teenager. I’d been in these positions before, clenching my thighs together and kissing for so long that I almost ceased being able to breathe independently. Yes, it had been torture to hold back then, but I’d gotten pretty good at teasing myself. I reached for my box of chocolate mints and ripped open the top. On the screen, a girl was already running through the woods, inexplicably topless, but I didn’t care. Next to me, Liam shifted around in his seat, and I knew he was uncomfortable. I tilted my head toward him and popped a mint in my mouth, sucking off the chocolate coating. Liam raised an eyebrow, and I smiled at him, leaning over to kiss him. I kept the soft mint muddled under my tongue and opened my mouth against his, blowing ever so slightly into his mouth, my breath cold and hot at the same time. Liam’s hand clamped over my shoulder, but I tugged it down onto my breast. He might not let me touch him, but second base was clearly within high school make-out session territory. His fingers skimmed over it lightly, and then he flicked my nipple. It was an expert move. No boy I dated in high school would have had the skill to do that, which is why a loud moan slipped from my lips.
    A head popped over the seat in front of us. “That is disgusting,” the woman chastised us. “Don’t you have any shame?”
    “Ma’am,” Liam said in a polite tone, “there is a man currently dismembering someone in the film you chose to see. I could ask you the same thing.”
    She gawked at him, her face frozen against the gruesome scene on the screen.
    “Make love, not war,” I added.
    She turned back in her seat and began whispering furiously to her friend, but neither of them turned back around.
    “Should we go?” I asked him.
    He shook his head. “New rule: mouths only.”
    “I can do a lot of things with my mouth,” I said