Play Maker (Bitsberg Knights Duet)

Ross moved his hand up, across my hip and under my sweater, and I moaned as his rough fingertips scratched my skin. Heat and tension collided as he slid his hand around to my back and pulled me just another inch closer. “Damn, you feel good,” he said, his voice ragged, almost a growl.

I dared a glance up at him and was instantly lost in the hunger and fire lighting up his eyes. The stormy color had returned, but this time it was richer, like the sky right before a thunderstorm. Anticipation. Desire. Urgency. “Is this really happening?” I whispered, more of a thought than a question.

Ross kissed me hard and let out an eager moan, leaving no doubt.

He was real. This thing between us was very real.

His hand moved up my back, taking his time to explore my body as he continued to kiss me with a passion that shot straight to my core. His lips trailed off, grazing my jaw and nibbling my earlobe, sending a shiver through me as his hand moved around and held my breast, moving ever so slightly as if he didn’t want to break me.

And God, how I wanted him to break me. Hard. Like a caged animal. My heart beat so hard in my chest, I could barely hear his words.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Shelby. Do you have any idea?” He teased my nipple again, watching the pleasure play across my face. I bit down hard on my lip to stifle the moan that wanted to escape.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My brain was melting and short-circuiting to the point where I couldn’t trust myself to put together a sentence. Ross didn’t wait. He reached for the edge of my sweater and stripped it away. I shook my hair as he tugged it over my head, letting it fall loosely around my shoulders. Ross smiled at the sight, moving a strand of hair from my face. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I choked out, blushing at his words. No one had ever been so into me before.

He pushed me back against the couch, dragging his knuckles across my chest. I shuddered under his touch as he turned his hand and cupped my breast, giving it a little bounce. When he dropped his head down and nipped at it over the thin fabric of my bra, I pushed forward and ran my fingertips along his back before frantically tugging at his t-shirt. Ross straightened up and grinned down at me as he stripped off his shirt, casually tossing it to the floor.

I blinked twice at his torso—his chest. Every muscle from his shoulders to his abs was solid, defined.

I ran my hands across his arm, unable to get enough of his solid, smooth muscles that lay underneath. When I reached the lines of his perfectly segmented abs, he sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes fell shut.

We’d just crossed the point of no return. There was no turning back. As though we both realized it at the same split second, we crashed together in a heap. Ross went to work on my bra, and I tore his belt off.

Somehow, we made it to his bedroom, a mess of clothing scattered on the floor and frantic breathing, until he had me laid out on the bed. He pulled at the button and then the zipper of my black denim jeans. They were skintight and took some wiggling, but he pulled them over my hips, and I kicked out of them as I perched on the edge of his bed. His own jeans had been left in the hallway, leaving just a pair of black boxer briefs between me and every last inch of his skin.

Ross met my eyes, and I bit my lip as he reached for the elastic band. He slid his boxers down his legs and when he straightened back up, it was like watching him in slow motion. Every muscle moved with the fluid grace of an athlete. Honed for his sport. But damn it if he wasn’t made for sin too. His nice-guy persona was completely gone. Stripped as bare as his body was. Back to his caveman side that had its sights set on one thing and one thing only.

Me.

He was pure perfection, as though he’d been carved out of marble and granite. Every inch of him. Especially his cock. Just the sight of it had me squirming, waiting for the very first taste.

Ross’s eyes were just as busy, searching my body, taking in every imperfect inch. “I think you’re overdressed,” he drawled, taking a step toward the bed.

I choked out a throaty laugh. “It looks that way,” I replied, giving my clothed body a look over.

“Let’s fix that,” he said, gliding his hands up the outside of each thigh. I shuddered when his fingers curled into the waistband of my panties and stripped them away. He kept his eyes on mine until he discarded them to the floor and only then did he allow himself a look.