within the frames of her glasses. I huff a soft laugh against her face. I’m grateful that she’s answering my question and not ruining this moment by letting her fears seep back in.
“I like them,” I say before I briefly kiss her again for one more taste.
When I pull away and open my eyes, she tilts her head. Her brown eyes flash on mine with a bewildered look. I wish I could read her mind because she seems to be making some sort of decision that I’m not privy to.
Before I can ask her about it, she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me hard against her lips. She drives her tongue so deep into my mouth, it sends my body into overdrive.
She’s definitely not afraid anymore.
“I want you, Indie,” I groan, breaking our kiss and dragging my forehead down her cheek until my mouth is on her neck. It’s cold and wet from her impromptu shower but feels utterly perfect. Her hand braces on my chest as she tilts back to give me more access to her towel-covered chest.
“I need you,” I croak, clasping her hand and sliding it down my chest, along my abs, and over top of the towel to the firmness between my legs. She lets out an audible, throaty gasp at the proof beneath the fabric. “Now,” I demand, even though I know I would get down on my knees and beg if she asked me to.
“Oh my God,” she moans loudly into my mouth as her small, delicate fingers slide against the length of me.
I quickly kiss her to quiet her voice. We can’t be interrupted. I need this to happen. I need to hear her voice cry out while I’m buried inside of her, even if I do have to swallow every whimper.
“I’ve got condoms.” I pull her down onto the bed so we’re sitting on the edge, angled toward each other. The relief in my knee is appreciated.
I lick and nibble my way up to her ear. She tastes like rain. Now I’m thinking that taking her in the shower sounds about perfect…and concealed. “Tell me you want me, Indie.”
“I want you,” she says without a second’s hesitation.
Pleased, I smile against her collarbone. “Give me a second to fetch one. I’ll be right back.”
“Condoms.” She grips my arms back toward her in some strange state of delirium. Her eyes are wide as she adds, “Condoms. No. We can’t, Cam. Not here.”
I cup her face, my brow furrowing with concern. “We have plenty of time. If it’s my knee you’re worried about, I’ll let you ride on top. I’m dying to feel you, Indie.” My hand trails between her towel-covered breasts, venturing lower. Her eyes flutter closed as I find a small gap between her thighs. She spreads her legs for me, shifting further toward the edge of the bed and inviting me in. She wants this just as much as I do. Buggered knee or not, we can handle this.
I push the rough fabric of the towel between her thighs. I could easily slip my hand in and palm her, skin on skin, but I want to wait. I want to be ready to slide into her before I feel all that I know she will be. She pumps her hips into my touch with shameless need, and I groan as her pink tongue darts out to lick her lips.
“What do you want me to do? Name it, Specs, and I’ll do it. I know what I want.”
Her drooped eyes hang on every one of my words, but she lets out a mournful groan and abruptly grabs my hand and pulls it away from her. “You don’t get it.” She stands up on shaky legs and awkwardly covers herself with her hands. Her eyes look wide with fear. “We seriously can’t.”
“Why? Is it the herpes thing?” I ask, thinking a joke might lighten her up a bit. I reach up and take her hand, stroking the soft skin of her wrist with my thumb. “I was being a sod, I told you.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.” She pulls back from me and fists her hands against her sides.
“You have herpes?” I ask, rearing back. All arousal is sucked dry.
“No!” she croaks. “That wouldn’t even be possible.”
“What are you saying? I’m the man-whore footballer, so I’m the only one in
“I like them,” I say before I briefly kiss her again for one more taste.
When I pull away and open my eyes, she tilts her head. Her brown eyes flash on mine with a bewildered look. I wish I could read her mind because she seems to be making some sort of decision that I’m not privy to.
Before I can ask her about it, she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me hard against her lips. She drives her tongue so deep into my mouth, it sends my body into overdrive.
She’s definitely not afraid anymore.
“I want you, Indie,” I groan, breaking our kiss and dragging my forehead down her cheek until my mouth is on her neck. It’s cold and wet from her impromptu shower but feels utterly perfect. Her hand braces on my chest as she tilts back to give me more access to her towel-covered chest.
“I need you,” I croak, clasping her hand and sliding it down my chest, along my abs, and over top of the towel to the firmness between my legs. She lets out an audible, throaty gasp at the proof beneath the fabric. “Now,” I demand, even though I know I would get down on my knees and beg if she asked me to.
“Oh my God,” she moans loudly into my mouth as her small, delicate fingers slide against the length of me.
I quickly kiss her to quiet her voice. We can’t be interrupted. I need this to happen. I need to hear her voice cry out while I’m buried inside of her, even if I do have to swallow every whimper.
“I’ve got condoms.” I pull her down onto the bed so we’re sitting on the edge, angled toward each other. The relief in my knee is appreciated.
I lick and nibble my way up to her ear. She tastes like rain. Now I’m thinking that taking her in the shower sounds about perfect…and concealed. “Tell me you want me, Indie.”
“I want you,” she says without a second’s hesitation.
Pleased, I smile against her collarbone. “Give me a second to fetch one. I’ll be right back.”
“Condoms.” She grips my arms back toward her in some strange state of delirium. Her eyes are wide as she adds, “Condoms. No. We can’t, Cam. Not here.”
I cup her face, my brow furrowing with concern. “We have plenty of time. If it’s my knee you’re worried about, I’ll let you ride on top. I’m dying to feel you, Indie.” My hand trails between her towel-covered breasts, venturing lower. Her eyes flutter closed as I find a small gap between her thighs. She spreads her legs for me, shifting further toward the edge of the bed and inviting me in. She wants this just as much as I do. Buggered knee or not, we can handle this.
I push the rough fabric of the towel between her thighs. I could easily slip my hand in and palm her, skin on skin, but I want to wait. I want to be ready to slide into her before I feel all that I know she will be. She pumps her hips into my touch with shameless need, and I groan as her pink tongue darts out to lick her lips.
“What do you want me to do? Name it, Specs, and I’ll do it. I know what I want.”
Her drooped eyes hang on every one of my words, but she lets out a mournful groan and abruptly grabs my hand and pulls it away from her. “You don’t get it.” She stands up on shaky legs and awkwardly covers herself with her hands. Her eyes look wide with fear. “We seriously can’t.”
“Why? Is it the herpes thing?” I ask, thinking a joke might lighten her up a bit. I reach up and take her hand, stroking the soft skin of her wrist with my thumb. “I was being a sod, I told you.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.” She pulls back from me and fists her hands against her sides.
“You have herpes?” I ask, rearing back. All arousal is sucked dry.
“No!” she croaks. “That wouldn’t even be possible.”
“What are you saying? I’m the man-whore footballer, so I’m the only one in
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