Partner Games
Page 36
I bit my lip and gazed at him. He was so handsome. Literally masculine perfection, even with a day of scruff on his jaw. There was no way a guy as sexy as him was interested in me and not my twin. “You sure you’re not with the wrong girl?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.” Swift’s hand went behind my neck and he pulled me a little closer to him, until our foreheads were pressing together. “I like you, Clementine. Is that so hard to believe?”
“A little? I mean, I’m not exactly flashy—“
He kissed me, cutting off my words. For a moment, I thought that he was kissing me to stop my protests…and then I didn’t care. Because his lips were utter heaven. I remained still as he gently kissed my upper lip, over and over again. His entire focus seemed to be on kissing that small part of me, and it made me nervous and prickly with anticipation all over. My nipples felt erect under my clothing, and my pulse was beating somewhere below my belt.
And still, he kept kissing me. His lips began to part a little more with each soft kiss, and every so often, his tongue would brush against the seam of my lips in a little teasing flick. “You’re beautiful, Tiny,” he murmured. And his tongue dipped against my mouth again.
This time, I bravely flicked my tongue against his, encouraging more.
He groaned and cupped my cheek with his hand, and then the kiss turned into something deeper, and wetter. “That’s my girl,” he said between deep, sweeping kisses. Our tongues met and clashed, and I whimpered a response. “I know you’re nervous, but we’ll go as slow as you want to, baby.”
Baby? I fought the urge to giggle. No one ever called me ‘baby’. But then he tongued me deep again, and I forgot all about laughing. I just wanted to kiss him and be lost in his delicious mouth forever.
His hand slid under the hem of my shirt and brushed against my belly. “Can we remove this?” He tugged at the fabric. “I want to feel you against me.”
My cheeks heated but I nodded. I wanted to feel my skin against his, too. I tugged at his black shirt. “Can we get rid of this, too?”
“Absolutely,” he said, and sat up, immediately ripping his shirt off over his head and tossing it to the ground.
This was my first look at Swift shirtless, and I was a little surprised. His entire chest was covered in tattoos, and black ink crawled up both arms in heavy sleeves. I knew that he had tattoos there, but seeing it all bared was surprising. On his chest was a big motorcycle wheel, and a gun was worked into the rim of the tire. Around the edges it said BROTHERS OF CHROME. I reached out and touched the edges of the tattoo. “This your club?”
He nodded, and I watched his jaw work, then clench.
“What is it?” He looked so…uptight, suddenly.
“Just your hand on me. Feels a little too good, you know?”
I blushed and pulled back. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be fucking sorry,” he said. He laid back down and grabbed my hand, then put it back on his chest. His skin felt scorching hot against my fingertips. “I love it when you touch me.”
I nodded and traced my fingers along his muscles, admiring them. His stomach was impossibly flat and taut, and I couldn’t help but admire his arms. He had a swallow tattooed on each shoulder and I lightly traced them as well, then brushed my fingers over the tattoo of words around his collarbones. EST. 1980. “Your birth year?”
“Yeah. Fuckin’ stupid, I know.” He chuckled. “I just…thought it looked cool. Got it when I was young and dumb.”
I traced the zero with my finger. “I like it.”
“You do?” He raised an eyebrow as if questioning my taste.
“Well, it’s kind of dumb but I think it looks good on you?”
“You think dumb looks good on me?”
Oh yikes. My mouth was just running away with me. “Wait, no! I meant that the ink looks good on you! I—“
He chuckled and pinned me under him on the bed, his hands gripping my arms. “I’m just fucking with ya, Tiny.” He nodded at my shirt. “You’re still dressed, though.”
I wiggled a little. He seemed so playful and fun I couldn’t help but relax. “Kinda hard to take your shirt off when someone’s on top of you.”
“Then allow me to assist,” he said, and released my hands. Before I could reach for my shirt, though, he was there, tugging it up until it bunched at my breasts. “Sit up.”
I did, though I felt a little shy and weird about it. Okay, a lot shy. But then he pulled it over my head and there was no more time to be shy, because I was topless and in my sports bra. I really wished that the bras they’d given us for the show were sexy instead of functional, because my A-cups looked kinda meager in it. But Swift just took one look at me and wiped his mouth. “Damn.”
My skin prickled with nervousness. “Is that a good damn or a bad damn?”
“It’s a ‘I’m going to be picturing you in nothing but your bra for the rest of the race’ damn.” He rubbed his mouth again and then gave me a quiet look. “You know you can keep it on if you’re feeling uncomfortable, right? I don’t mind.”
But I felt weird leaving it on. If we were going to make out – God, I sounded like a fourteen year old – I wanted to do it right. So I gave him my most confident smile and pulled the bra over my head.
Or tried to.
The race assigned bras were racer-backs with no clasp and so they go over the head. And it was also tight fitting and I was nervous…
And so it got caught somewhere between elbows and neck and then I was trapped, bra choking me around my neck, boobs out in the wild, and me looking like a strangled giraffe.
Horrified was not the word to describe it. Mortified? Closer.
I gave it another tug and this time I caught my braids. An unhappy gurgle escaped me and my humiliation increased when Swift tried to help. “Hold still, Tiny.”
I held still. Maybe if I held still long enough, the floor would swallow me up.
“Jeez. I don’t see how women get out of these things,” he commented as he tried to help detangle me.
“Apparently some of us can’t.”
He chuckled, and then it came off, and my hands automatically went to my breasts to cover them. Futile, since they’d been flapping in the breeze for the last thirty seconds, but I didn’t care.
Swift tossed my bra to the hotel room floor and then gazed at me. He reached out and took my hand, pulling it away from my breasts. Trembling with nervousness, I let my hand fall and then closed my eyes because it felt like too much to digest all at once.
“You’re beautiful, Tiny.”
I felt the bed creak as he moved forward, and then his mouth brushed against mine, and the scent of his skin filled my nostrils. I opened my eyes and kissed him back, and then all the shyness was gone for the moment. There were only lips and skin and me and Swift.
His hand went to my breast, and he cupped the small curve, brushing his fingers over it. “Just beautiful.”
My nipple felt like a diamond against his skin, hard and aching. I gave a shuddery gasp when he kissed my mouth again and then put his hand on my shoulder, pushing me down on the bed. I laid on my back and watched him, fully alert and aroused, and practically squirming with need. My mind was full of Swift as he kissed me again, then sat back and trailed his big hand down my neck and over my collarbones.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.” Swift’s hand went behind my neck and he pulled me a little closer to him, until our foreheads were pressing together. “I like you, Clementine. Is that so hard to believe?”
“A little? I mean, I’m not exactly flashy—“
He kissed me, cutting off my words. For a moment, I thought that he was kissing me to stop my protests…and then I didn’t care. Because his lips were utter heaven. I remained still as he gently kissed my upper lip, over and over again. His entire focus seemed to be on kissing that small part of me, and it made me nervous and prickly with anticipation all over. My nipples felt erect under my clothing, and my pulse was beating somewhere below my belt.
And still, he kept kissing me. His lips began to part a little more with each soft kiss, and every so often, his tongue would brush against the seam of my lips in a little teasing flick. “You’re beautiful, Tiny,” he murmured. And his tongue dipped against my mouth again.
This time, I bravely flicked my tongue against his, encouraging more.
He groaned and cupped my cheek with his hand, and then the kiss turned into something deeper, and wetter. “That’s my girl,” he said between deep, sweeping kisses. Our tongues met and clashed, and I whimpered a response. “I know you’re nervous, but we’ll go as slow as you want to, baby.”
Baby? I fought the urge to giggle. No one ever called me ‘baby’. But then he tongued me deep again, and I forgot all about laughing. I just wanted to kiss him and be lost in his delicious mouth forever.
His hand slid under the hem of my shirt and brushed against my belly. “Can we remove this?” He tugged at the fabric. “I want to feel you against me.”
My cheeks heated but I nodded. I wanted to feel my skin against his, too. I tugged at his black shirt. “Can we get rid of this, too?”
“Absolutely,” he said, and sat up, immediately ripping his shirt off over his head and tossing it to the ground.
This was my first look at Swift shirtless, and I was a little surprised. His entire chest was covered in tattoos, and black ink crawled up both arms in heavy sleeves. I knew that he had tattoos there, but seeing it all bared was surprising. On his chest was a big motorcycle wheel, and a gun was worked into the rim of the tire. Around the edges it said BROTHERS OF CHROME. I reached out and touched the edges of the tattoo. “This your club?”
He nodded, and I watched his jaw work, then clench.
“What is it?” He looked so…uptight, suddenly.
“Just your hand on me. Feels a little too good, you know?”
I blushed and pulled back. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be fucking sorry,” he said. He laid back down and grabbed my hand, then put it back on his chest. His skin felt scorching hot against my fingertips. “I love it when you touch me.”
I nodded and traced my fingers along his muscles, admiring them. His stomach was impossibly flat and taut, and I couldn’t help but admire his arms. He had a swallow tattooed on each shoulder and I lightly traced them as well, then brushed my fingers over the tattoo of words around his collarbones. EST. 1980. “Your birth year?”
“Yeah. Fuckin’ stupid, I know.” He chuckled. “I just…thought it looked cool. Got it when I was young and dumb.”
I traced the zero with my finger. “I like it.”
“You do?” He raised an eyebrow as if questioning my taste.
“Well, it’s kind of dumb but I think it looks good on you?”
“You think dumb looks good on me?”
Oh yikes. My mouth was just running away with me. “Wait, no! I meant that the ink looks good on you! I—“
He chuckled and pinned me under him on the bed, his hands gripping my arms. “I’m just fucking with ya, Tiny.” He nodded at my shirt. “You’re still dressed, though.”
I wiggled a little. He seemed so playful and fun I couldn’t help but relax. “Kinda hard to take your shirt off when someone’s on top of you.”
“Then allow me to assist,” he said, and released my hands. Before I could reach for my shirt, though, he was there, tugging it up until it bunched at my breasts. “Sit up.”
I did, though I felt a little shy and weird about it. Okay, a lot shy. But then he pulled it over my head and there was no more time to be shy, because I was topless and in my sports bra. I really wished that the bras they’d given us for the show were sexy instead of functional, because my A-cups looked kinda meager in it. But Swift just took one look at me and wiped his mouth. “Damn.”
My skin prickled with nervousness. “Is that a good damn or a bad damn?”
“It’s a ‘I’m going to be picturing you in nothing but your bra for the rest of the race’ damn.” He rubbed his mouth again and then gave me a quiet look. “You know you can keep it on if you’re feeling uncomfortable, right? I don’t mind.”
But I felt weird leaving it on. If we were going to make out – God, I sounded like a fourteen year old – I wanted to do it right. So I gave him my most confident smile and pulled the bra over my head.
Or tried to.
The race assigned bras were racer-backs with no clasp and so they go over the head. And it was also tight fitting and I was nervous…
And so it got caught somewhere between elbows and neck and then I was trapped, bra choking me around my neck, boobs out in the wild, and me looking like a strangled giraffe.
Horrified was not the word to describe it. Mortified? Closer.
I gave it another tug and this time I caught my braids. An unhappy gurgle escaped me and my humiliation increased when Swift tried to help. “Hold still, Tiny.”
I held still. Maybe if I held still long enough, the floor would swallow me up.
“Jeez. I don’t see how women get out of these things,” he commented as he tried to help detangle me.
“Apparently some of us can’t.”
He chuckled, and then it came off, and my hands automatically went to my breasts to cover them. Futile, since they’d been flapping in the breeze for the last thirty seconds, but I didn’t care.
Swift tossed my bra to the hotel room floor and then gazed at me. He reached out and took my hand, pulling it away from my breasts. Trembling with nervousness, I let my hand fall and then closed my eyes because it felt like too much to digest all at once.
“You’re beautiful, Tiny.”
I felt the bed creak as he moved forward, and then his mouth brushed against mine, and the scent of his skin filled my nostrils. I opened my eyes and kissed him back, and then all the shyness was gone for the moment. There were only lips and skin and me and Swift.
His hand went to my breast, and he cupped the small curve, brushing his fingers over it. “Just beautiful.”
My nipple felt like a diamond against his skin, hard and aching. I gave a shuddery gasp when he kissed my mouth again and then put his hand on my shoulder, pushing me down on the bed. I laid on my back and watched him, fully alert and aroused, and practically squirming with need. My mind was full of Swift as he kissed me again, then sat back and trailed his big hand down my neck and over my collarbones.
