Winning It All (Hometown Players Book 4) Read Online Free Page B

deadbolt just above the handle. I smile. When I look back at her she’s smiling too. “Out there I was just going to kiss you,” I explain to her in a quiet but confident tone. “If that door gets locked, I am going to do a lot more than kiss you.”
    She walks toward me, her cheeks turning a delicious pink, and just when I think she’s going to kiss me, she slides to my left, her hand reaching behind me. As her lips ghost the edge of my jaw, I hear the undeniable scrape of the lock twisting. I reach up and grab her face in both my hands and our eyes lock. She looks slightly nervous but very excited. “I am going to make you come so hard, baby.”
    Before she can react to my promise, I cover her mouth with my own and part her lips with my tongue. She kisses me back, matching my passion. Her mouth is warm and soft and it’s like taking a small lick from a delicious ice cream cone on a hot summer day. It’s perfect but not nearly enough. I move a hand from her face to her waist and pull her against me as I move my hips, pressing my hard-on into her stomach.
    She responds by reaching down and grabbing my ass.
    Oh fuck, this girl is perfect.

Shayne
    Am I doing this? I’ve never done this. I said I would never do this. But…oh, my God…I think as he pulls my earlobe between his teeth. Holy crap, I want to do this. With him. Here. Now. I can usually pretend like my sex hiatus is no big deal, but it’s been two years and four months and suddenly, that is a big freaking deal.
    “No regrets,” I whisper as I let him push me back into the room until my ass hits one of the dryers. I was saying it to myself, not him, but he heard, and his ice-blue eyes find mine.
    “I promise you’ll have none,” he whispers and devours my mouth again as I shove his suit jacket off his shoulders.
    This boy can kiss. He’s dominant and forceful and it’s hot as hell. He owns my mouth. He knows it too, I can tell, and the competitive nature that has always driven me doesn’t even seem to care that it’s being owned. Because every kiss, every pass of his tongue over mine, every nip of his teeth on my bottom lip leaves a hint that giving in will be worth it.
    He’s made some big promises. And it’s been so long that if he doesn’t fulfill them, I might actually cry. His sexy smirk and snarky mouth and mind-blowing kisses are the only reasons I suddenly want to be satisfied by something other than my own hand so please, please may he deliver.
    His hands slide over the silky green fabric of my dress, slipping over my sides and my hips until they reach the hem, and then he starts to slide back up, under the dress, and I don’t even feel the slightest inclination to stop him. In fact, when he reaches edges of my thong I whisper, “Take it off.”
    I don’t even know who I am anymore, but it doesn’t feel as wrong as I thought it would. Somehow it feels like this version of Shayne Beckford has always existed, locked away somewhere inside of me, but no one ever had the key—not even me. This stranger, Sebastian—hell, I don’t even know his last name—he has the key. I know that revelation will scare me later, when I’m home alone and overanalyzing the crap out of this. And I know that will happen because the Shayne Beckford that exists normally is still alive somewhere inside of me. She’s just been hog-tied and locked in a closet.
    His fingers feel oddly rough for an accountant or lawyer or whatever hell he is as they trace the hem of my thong, scraping the inside of my thigh and making me shiver. He smiles into the kiss we’re sharing, and so I slip my hand in between us and cup his hardness through his pants. Just as I was hoping, it makes him shiver back. Good. Now we’re even.
    Except we’re not even. Nothing about this feels like fair game. The way my body is responding to him, he’s definitely got the advantage. And as I rub my hand up his length— way up—I realize he’s got the advantage on a lot of men too. In