Hott Take: A Steamy Rush Creek Romantic Comedy by Serena Bell

Author:Serena Bell [Bell, Serena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jelsba Media Group

23

Shane

She’s perfect.

Incredible.

The heat of her mouth, the curl and stroke of her tongue, her soft, strong body writhing under mine on the couch.

The fierceness of her response to me, and the way she broke while I held her and kissed her, breathless and moaning, my name and all manner of filthy words on her lips.

It’s testament to willpower that I didn’t follow her over the edge because I was right there with her, so wrapped up in her pleasure that I couldn’t feel where she ended and I began⁠—

And I wasn’t even inside her.

We weren’t even naked.

She is going to destroy me if we ever do that. I will never be the same again.

Which is why I sit up on the couch and straighten my clothes. I help her sit up, too, and I watch as she fixes her hair and fusses over her clothes and doesn’t make eye contact at all.

Finally I say, “Ivy, it’s okay. It’s not a big deal.”

Her eyes flash to mine, and I see relief in them.

“I’m your fake fiancé. Least I can do is help relieve the tension.”

She laughs then. “Especially when it was your fault to begin with.”

Did I mention how much I liked that? It wasn’t like I walked in on her watching some random bit of sexy television. I walked in on her getting herself off to the sight of me fucking on-screen.

I’d pin it at thirty percent ego trip, thirty percent the sheer spank-bank fantasy of watching a woman pleasure herself while she watches me, and—what does that leave?

Forty percent the fact that Ivy apparently has a direct line to my sex drive. She turns me on like no one I’ve ever met before.

I should have known that when I flew all the way to LA to stop thinking about kissing her.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Especially when it was my fault to begin with.” I run my eyes over her, taking in all the marvelousness—her pink cheeks, the glow on her skin, her swollen lips, the sparkle in her eyes. And I thought she was hot before. Now she’s so tempting I have to fist my hands and pin myself to my spot on the sofa.

“You’re…” she says.

She’s gesturing and looking at my lap, where, yup⁠—

And she’s definitely pleased with herself.

“I can, um, help you with that,” she says shyly, and holy fuck, I want that. I want her help, and I want it right now, and⁠—

And what in the name of hell are we doing?

“Maybe we should…”

I’m not even a hundred percent sure what I was going to say. I think I might have been about to say, Maybe we should talk about this. And suddenly I have sympathy for all the women who’ve ever tried to say that to me, all the women to whom I’ve said, I’m sorry, but I just don’t do relationships. I thought I made that clear, and I’m really sorry if I didn’t. Or some kinder, gentler version of that.

“It’s like you said,” she says.

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