Her hair brushed his chest as she hovered over him, cheeks flushed, mouth swollen, looking for all the world like she’d stepped out of a dream. His dream.
“I love you,” she said. Eac
h word came out slowly and carefully, like she was testing them out.
Blake brushed his thumb over Farrah’s cheek. Her skin was soft and warm against his. His gaze caressed her face, lingering on the delicate curve of her jaw, the gentle slope of her nose, the tiny mole above her right eyebrow, and the sweep of black lashes framing her deep chocolate eyes.
“I love you too.”
He flipped them over until he was the one hovering over her. “Let’s try an experiment.”
Farrah’s brow furrowed. “What kind of experiment?”
“This.” Blake brushed his lips over hers and reached down to caress her, reveling in her sharp intake of breath as he explored her most intimate folds.
They’d tried multiple times to bring Farrah over the finish line, to no avail. She got close during their last attempt, but no dice. It was a blow (no pun intended) to Blake’s pride. When a girl RSVPed yes, he made sure they came. Always. It was a Blake Ryan hallmark. The fact he couldn’t do that for Farrah galled him to no end.
But for once, his pride wasn’t the most important thing.
Blake kept his gaze on Farrah’s face, taking his cues from her reactions—the way her eyelids fluttered and lips parted when he rubbed his thumb over her clit, the way she arched when he slipped a finger inside her warmth—until his fingers were slick with her juices.
Then he guided Farrah’s hand down to replace his own. He sat back.
Her eyes flew open. “Wha—”
“Touch yourself for me.”
Farrah’s cheeks turned the color of ripe tomatoes. “I can’t.”
“You can. You said you can come when you do it on your own.” Blake ran his thumb over the soft skin of Farrah’s inner thigh. “Show me.”
In his football days, Blake followed a simple learning method: 1) Watch how the pros do it 2) Do it yourself 3) Keep going until you do it well 4) Add your own flair until you do it better.
The method won him two Heismans and three national championships. A girl’s body was more complicated than a football play, but the principle was the same. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t made the connection earlier.
Farrah shook her head. “I need to be alone when I do it.”
“Why?”
“Because.” She faltered. “I guess I’m more relaxed when I’m alone.”
“Do you trust me?”
Farrah swallowed, her eyes bright. “Yes.” It came out as a whisper.
Blake released the air from his lungs. “Close your eyes.”
Another swallow. Her eyes fluttered closed.
Farrah’s initial touch was hesitant. She stroked herself like it was the first time, but eventually, her body arched and her breath came out in sexy little pants as she brought herself to the brink of orgasm.
Lust poured through his veins, burning him with its intensity. Blake curled his hands into fists and willed his body to stay in control.
Farrah groaned and tore her hands away from her body. She opened her eyes. “I can’t.” Frustration wracked her voice. “I can’t do it with you watching. It’s embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?” Blake was stunned. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I look at myself in the mirror every day.”
Farrah choked out a laugh. “What a compliment.”