Lahat ng Kabanata ng Kiss It Better: Kabanata 131 - Kabanata 140

The man I’ve just pushed starts to charge me, until he realizes who I am and he holds up his hands, stammering over the music. “Hey man. I was just being friendly. She’s overreacting.”“Friendly?” repeats the blonde. “I saw you put that powder in my drink.”She tries to charge past me, but I catch her around the waist at the last second, holding her several inches off the ground. I bite off a groan when she tries to get free, her butt wiggling around in my lap. God help me, my dick is rock hard in an instant and an animal inside me gnashes its teeth, wanting to throw her facedown over the closest table and claim her in front of everyone. Mark her as mine. And I should be ashamed of myself for even thinking it, considering the accusation she just made. One I believe, one hundred percent.“Listen up a second, angel?” I manage through my closing throat. “I’m going to make sure this asshole goes to jail, all right? Trust me on that? But if you punch him again and he retaliates, I’ll be th

Jace was right. I’ve been raised in this world. I’ve been allowed way too close to the drama that often surrounds players and their significant others. Way too close. Close enough to be traumatized—and determined to never let that kind of pain and betrayal happen to me. Messy, public divorces. Scandals. Bitter fights. “I don’t date basketball players, Armstrong. Deal with it. And by the way, I doubt my father would appreciate your hand on my thigh like that, let alone us…going out.”He looks down sharply, as if only realizing now that his big hand is sliding into the leg of my shorts, his thumb brushing up and back on the inside, sensitizing me head to toe. Despite being called out on it, though, he continues to touch me, petting the skin high up inside my shorts. Why am I not pushing him away? He’s taking serious liberties and yet, the worshipful way he’s stroking me feels so good. Feels like a promise. The flesh between my thighs is responding with slow, hot clenches that make me ac

I’ve always had a volatile temper. Once, in second grade, my father had to come pick me up from school early from the principal’s office. I’d kicked over a bookshelf in class because the pudding cup was missing from my lunchbox. Some might say that’s an overreaction, but hey. When you’re expecting chocolate, the absence of chocolate is unacceptable. That’s just a basic fact.Do I not have every right to slap this cocky bastard?Who demands a wife as a contingency to a sports contract?That is insane.Also insane? The fact that when I walked into the conference room and saw the relentlessly gorgeous point guard—the one who haunted my dreams last night—my first reaction was excitement. It started in the crown of my head and traveled all the way down to my toes, leaving a trail of fire behind. That heavy-lidded way he watches me, his strapping body poised to move at all times, touches a place deep inside of me. Makes me ache, makes me want to forget that I don’t trust athletes.The slap

I think I’ve had an orgasm before. Once when I was taking a bath, I found a spot between my legs that felt really nice to touch, but…wait, the more he drags that ridge up and down the seam of my yoga pants, the more I’m starting to think orgasms don’t merely feel nice. They’re like living things clawing to get free. That’s what I’m experiencing now, this burning grind of my intimate muscles, the lack of oxygen or rational thought. Just sinking my fingers into his juicy athlete’s butt and yanking, yanking him into the juncture of my thighs.Oh lord, oh lord, what’s coming?There’s a knock at the door.“Jace? Aleera?”It’s my father.If anything, Jace’s hips move faster, his expression turning into a mask of possessiveness. “Not stopping. Can’t stop. Tell him we’ll be right there,” he grunts, shoving my knees higher, folding me in two, body punching and grinding into mine, couch springs complaining loudly beneath us, the sound mingling with our panting breaths. Deep in my sex, there’s a

I could get used to this woman-handling thing.Me and Jace stand at half court of his giant underground basketball court, the fact that we’re completely alone amplified by the sheer magnitude of space. And we’re…flirting. There’s no other word for it. He tickles me and I giggle. I run my hands up beneath his loose gray T-shirt and he hisses a curse. He whispers secrets in my ear about nonsense, just for an excuse to slide his hand up the back of my skirt and I retaliate by taking a hard nibble of his neck.My nude thong is soaked, stuck to my skin.Honestly, I can’t remember a single other time I’ve flirted with a man without doing it ironically or being sarcastic the whole time. This is pure, unadulterated enjoyment for both of us. It’s foreplay. At least, I assume so, since I’ve never done it before. Jace gently fondles my breasts through the soft material of my tank top, groaning into my neck, letting me just feel the ridge of his erection every so often…all of it combines to weave