Crossing the Line(8)

"Even at college?"

She winced. "I'm kinda a nerd so no, I don't do dorm-hopping."

"So why me? Why tonight?"

I wanted her to articulate a reason, any reason, that I could throw back in her face as to why we couldn't do this. Because my dumb-arse libido? Already had her stripped with me deep inside her.

"Because you're hot," she blurted, and I laughed at her honesty.

"Thanks."

"And I want to step out of my comfort zone for once in my life."

I nodded. "So I was right at the start. Good girl wants to slum it for a while."

She reared back a little, as if I'd slapped her. "I wouldn't be slumming it. You're … you're … incredible."

I could've sworn my heart stopped beating at that moment. I couldn't breathe.

No one, apart from Mum, had ever looked at me the same way Mia was looking at me.

Like she could see the good stuff deep inside I hid from everyone.

Like she wanted to know more.

Like I was worthy.

And damn if it didn't harden my resolve all the more.

"I'm not even close to who you think I am," I said, shaking my head. "I'm a moody, arrogant prick."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Her lopsided smile made something in my chest ache. "Maybe if you keep saying it long enough, you'll start to believe your own badass press."

There she went again, making me want to laugh.

"We've known each other for less than an hour." I held up my hands to ward her off. "You shouldn't want to sleep with an arsehole like me."

"Well too damn bad, because I do."

Before I could react, she'd flung herself on me, moving so fast my back slammed against the wire fence surrounding the court.

Her mouth crushed mine in an inexperienced meld of lips and teeth that had me tasting blood a second before she pushed away.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." She stared at my mouth. "You're bleeding."

I couldn't stand her shattered expression. "My first sex wound. Cool."

When she didn't lose the wide-eyed horror, I did the dumbest thing since I'd smashed that jerk's nose back in Sydney.

I reached for her and hauled her into my arms. "Just means you'll have to kiss it better."

"I'm no good at this." She sounded on the verge of tears. "Just forget it—"

I kissed her. Grazing my lips over hers. Repeatedly. Deepening the pressure with every pass until her mouth opened. My tongue slipped in, touched hers and I lost it.

I ravaged her mouth. Long, deep, hot kisses that made my cock ache.

She moaned when I groped her butt and pulled her flush against me, her thighs parting so I fit snug.

Damn, there was no fucking way this could stop at a kiss.

I wrenched my mouth from hers with difficulty. "Mia, we can't—"

"Ssh." She pressed a finger against my lips. "As much as I like hearing that accent, right now I want something else."

She ground her pelvis against my cock. "This."

When she did it again, slower this time, sliding up and down against me, I knew I was a goner.





Chapter 5




MIA





Trust me to pick the only bad boy on the planet with a conscience.

I didn't know what else to do to get Kye to sleep with me, bar strip and run around the tennis court naked.

"This isn't a good idea," he mumbled, sounding as tortured as I felt.

Good. Because if we didn't do this within the next five minutes, I'd combust from wanting him.

I pressed against him one last time, wishing I had the guts to touch him there. "We either do this, or you're going to spend the night under a cold shower or working off your frustration on the court."

The moment I said it, I had an idea. A brilliant one.

Trying to hide a triumphant smirk was almost impossible. "How about this. We play one game of tennis. I win, we have sex. You win, we don't."

His eyes narrowed, sizing me up. "You said you played badly, so what's the catch?"

"No catch." I shrugged, mustering my best innocent expression. "Come on. What have you got to lose?"

Apart from the game, because if there's one thing I knew about tennis, it was how to not play fair. I was average on the court. But I'd once watched Dani bring a guy to his knees by seducing him one shot at a time.

Now it was my turn to see if I had what it took to distract a gun player long enough that he fudged four points so we ended up in bed.

"You're giving in too easily." He shook his head. "I don't trust you."

"Shouldn't that be my line?" I smiled and flipped the catch on the storage box tucked outside the fence.

"Fine, we'll play one game, then I'm heading to bed," he muttered, rummaging through the rackets before he found one he fancied: testing the weight in his hand, fiddling with the strings, inspecting it.