Perfect Score (Easton U Pirates 3)

“Kissing you might be the perfect thing to shut you up right now,” Elliot murmured as his head leaned toward mine.

“Huh?” I froze as his breath wafted over my lips and his warmth surrounded me in that cocoon of softness I always reveled in. Still, I wondered what he could possibly be thinking. “What the heck are you doing?”

“What all good dates do.” He kissed the side of my mouth, making warmth flood my belly. “Keeping you from doing something stupid.”

“But I—”

“Shh,” he cooed in my ear, nibbling the lobe, then blazing a path with his mouth along my jaw. I groaned as the entire hallway melted away, my focus narrowed down to the sensation of his lips on my skin.

“You’re such an ass,” I said weakly, leaning into him, suddenly starving for a taste of his mouth. It wasn’t a new feeling. I’d been burning with curiosity ever since that night with his hookup, and it’d been hard to center my thoughts on the simple pleasure of getting off every time we’d messed around, or whatever we were calling it. We hadn’t even discussed the last time because we’d been too busy, but I’d thought about it too many times to count.

That familiar thread of tension drew us nearer, our eyes meeting, and our lips melding together in the most natural and enticing way. But this kiss was nothing like our practice one as kids. This meeting of mouths made my toes curl, made me forget my name. Hell, I probably couldn’t even recite the alphabet if someone asked me to at that moment.

I moaned as the wet, velvety friction of our tongues sliding together lit me up like the lights we’d strung around our apartment at holiday time, and I no longer gave two shits about some dude named Dawson who’d been a supreme douche tonight. I only wanted more of Elliot’s mouth and tongue and hands as his fingers wrapped around my nape, holding me exactly where I wanted to be, centering me like no one else could.

And holy shit, I was kissing Elliot. My best friend in the world. But there was no room for a freak-out session, not when he was pretty much melting my brain. If this was going to mess everything up between us, then it was already too late, so I was going to lean into the moment.

My hands gripped his hips, tugged him even closer, and there it was, his stiff length rubbing against my own.

“Fuck,” I said against his mouth. “You’re making me hard.”

“Obviously, I’m not much better.”

I whimpered when he broke the kiss, actually fucking whimpered because I didn’t want to stop. He looked over his shoulder to the now-empty hallway—how long had Dawson been gone?—then pulled me toward the women’s restroom.

I didn’t even resist. My lust-addled brain would’ve followed him right into the fires of hell, as long as he was by my side. Once inside, he locked the door, and we didn’t even hesitate. Our mouths and bodies smushed together again as if we’d never been apart. Hands burrowing in hair, teeth nipping on necks and ears and jaws. Our tongues were battling, and I couldn’t taste him fast enough or anywhere near my fill.

Finally, I got some sense about myself and pulled away, my gaze snagging on his glazed eyes and shiny mouth. I’d done that to him, and it felt powerful and amazing.

“Do you think Ryan will wonder where we are?” I asked, feeling a bit guilty, but no way did I want a lap dance—not that the woman didn’t have killer moves.

“The music’s still going,” Elliot said, tilting his head toward the sound. “I figure this is our way of killing time while they do their thing. It also keeps you from causing Dawson bodily harm.”

“True.” I shrugged, my fingers still gripping his waist as if to make sure he didn’t get too far away from me. “Sounds like a good enough excuse to me.”

“This might be a good distraction too.”

I gasped when he sank to his knees and rubbed his chin against my thigh.

Elliot added, “Anything to get you through this night and this wedding.”

That was what this was? A distraction? I should stop him now before it became too much, but I couldn’t find it in me. I wanted to know this part of Elliot, even if it was only us casually messing around or pretending he was playing a role. If we needed to call it something to avoid a deep-dive discussion, then I could live with that until after the wedding.

“Fuck yeah.” My fingernails bit into his shoulders. “Feels so good.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat as he carefully opened the fly of my pants, then tugged them down to my knees. Before I could offer a halfhearted protest, his mouth ghosted over the outline of my shaft, making me shudder.