Tomboy

All the air that had been pent up in her lungs escaped with a whoosh as she leaned against the wall for support. She knew exactly how much work went into being in shape enough to grace the cover of ESPN’s body issue, but that didn’t make it any less impressive.

He let out a sexy-but-way-too-overconfident chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes, you like the view very much.”

The man was an egomaniac. And he was telling the truth. Dammit. “I don’t know,” she said, trying to take all the oh-fuck-me-now out of her voice. “I haven’t seen everything yet. The rest could be a disappointment.”

“Could be,” he said, about as humbly as a guy so obviously blessed could. “There’s only one way to find out.”

And with that, he did a quick pivot away from her as he shoved his briefs down and then started down the hallway toward his bedroom, giving her the perfect view of his ass, if not his hard cock. The man was a teasing pain in her butt. Of course, it was kinda hard to remember that when she was looking at his ass. Talk about perfection. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to stare at it, kiss it, or smack it—chances were, though, that she’d have plenty of opportunities for all three tonight.

“Where are you going?” Because she needed him right now, preferably within touching distance.

“To my room,” he said, barely slowing his steps. “You’ve gotta make this call, Fallon. You want me as much as I want you, but you’ve got to own it.” Then he disappeared into his bedroom. “Oh, and Fallon,” he said from the other room. “You better be bare-ass naked when you get here.”

Who was he to strut around all naked and hot and be all bossy? That wasn’t how she rolled. She was the one in charge. She made the calls. She fought the wars—and won. But when it came to the battle of smart decisions versus a one-night stand with Zach Blackburn? It wasn’t even a stalemate. She was going down, and she’d enjoy every licking, tasting, and touching moment of it.

It only took about thirty seconds for her jeans and T-shirt to end up in the same pile as Zach’s clothes in the middle of the foyer. She made it about three steps toward the bedroom before the asshole little voice in her head started outlining all of the things about her body that she wasn’t such a fan of—hello mosquito-bite boobs—and reminding her of the physical perfection of the women he usually brought home—the puck bunnies with their perfect hair, practically professional-level makeup, and banging bods. She’d eyeballed and objectified the hell out of Zach when he got naked; she’d be an idiot to think that he wouldn’t be analyzing her body, too. Fucking A. Why couldn’t they have just fucked against the wall before her frenemy brain had a chance to catch up?

By the time she was a single step from the door, Fallon had her arms wrapped around her soft, vulnerable middle. There was naked and then there was naked, and she was definitely feeling the latter.

A low whistle of admiration tugged her attention away from herself. Zach stood in the doorway, his hand wrapped around his thick, hard cock and a look of 100 percent lust on his face. The hater in her head shut the fuck up at the sight.

“I might need a nurse,” he said, his voice low and rumbly. “Don’t suppose you know of one?”

It so was not the first time she’d ever been asked to play doctor (and usually, she just rolled her eyes), but she’d never been asked by Zach before.

She took a step into his room. “That depends. Where does it ache?”

…

“Anywhere that I’m not touching you.” And it was past time to end that if either of them was going to make it through the night without spontaneously combusting.

He traced his thumb across the straight line of her collarbone to the place in the middle where it dipped into a U, then he spread his palm wide and glided it over the slight rise of her right breast, cupping it and rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. As Fallon let out a quiet moan, he increased the pressure, tugging the small pink point.

“Fuck, Fallon, you have the prettiest tits.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said with just enough defensiveness under her usual sarcasm to make the dial on his oh-shit meter come to life.

“Don’t see anyone else here, so why are you letting them in?” he asked before dipping his head down and swirling his tongue around her nipple, hoping to distract her thoughts from going in that direction.

“So you’re not thinking about the guys I’ve fucked before you?”

He whipped his head up. “Well shit, now I am.”

She gave him a sexy little grin. “Oops.”

The woman loved to talk smack no matter the circumstances, it seemed—and she was going to pay for that in the best way possible. He slid his fingers through the tight curls between her thighs. Fuck, she was soft and wet for him.

“You did that on purpose,” he said, his voice barely above a strained, growly whisper.

She let out a shaky breath as he circled her clit. “Figured you were the kind of guy who performed better when it was a competition.”

“To be the best fuck you’ve ever had?” He increased the pressure and pace of his touch, following her body’s movements and her little moans to know when to slow down and speed up. “Oh, Fallon, I’ve already won that, and you know it.”

She reached out, holding on to him by the shoulders as she let her eyes fall shut. “How’s that?”

“Because you’re about to come, and I’m barely touching you.”

Biting down on her bottom lip, she let out a mewl of pleasure that was all the encouragement he needed. “You wish.”