Sugar Rush by Tracey Ward

Author:Tracey Ward
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2016-04-06T04:00:00+00:00

***

Did I have sex with Lilly in that shower?

No.

Did I want to?

Ask my blue balls. They have a lot to say on the matter.

Am I some kind of pussy? What guy backs out of a situation like that without sealing the deal, right?

A guy who is in deep with a girl. The answer is as that simple.

I turned the water to warm and kissed her under the spray until it ran cold again. I talked dirty to her. She shocked the shit out of me by talking even dirtier. We laughed and played and taunted each other until we hit a now or never moment when clothes needed to get the fuck out of the way and let nature take over. That’s when I backed off. That’s when I killed the water, wrapped her shivering body inside a thick towel, and led her to the laundry room. She stripped down behind a closed door and tossed her clothes inside the dryer. When she walked out in nothing but that towel I almost lost my restraint. Her hair was smoothed back, stuck to her still wet skin in saturated, dark chunks. Her eyes looked larger than ever. Darker. Warmer.

She blushes when I stare at her in that towel. She does that a lot. It’s cute as shit and sexy in an innocent, reticent kind of way I’ve never seen before.

When we’re both dressed and waiting for our clothes to dry we sit down on the couch together, the TV turned to late night television. She huddles in deep under a thick gray blanket I’ve never used, her body pressed into my side.

“That is so stupid,” she grumbles quietly.

“The egg thing?”

“Who has that much trouble cracking an egg? Seriously?”

I smile at her disdain. “Not all of us are pros.”

“You might not be good at cooking but you can crack an egg.”

“I challenge that assumption.”

“Show me?” she demands fervently. “Do you have any eggs?”

“Yeah, but we’re not touching them. Maria needs them for my omelet in the morning.”

“Do you have another early practice?”

“No. Afternoon. And it’s a shorter one.”

“And you’ve got the Panthers on Sunday?”

“At two, yeah.” I look down at her. I can only see the top of her head where it’s laying against my chest. The curve of her body made indistinct by the blanket. I touch a section of her hair, running it slowly through my fingers. It’s impossibly cold and smooth. “Are you going to watch?”

“I think so. I’ll be at my parent’s house. Dad will have it on. I’ll watch with him.”

“Will you tell him you’ve showered with their star player?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answers casually. “I barely know Trey.”

“Oh,” I laugh. “That’s cold.”

“It was funny though.”

“Yeah, you’re hilarious.”

She yawns, burrowing in deeper. “Watch. This is the best part. They’re going to tell you the price but if you act now you can get a second one for free. For when the first piece of shit breaks after a week.”

“I’m getting you one of these for Christmas.

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