Sweet Summer Love (The Sweetest Thing, #3)

by Sierra Hill

  They knock me off balance. Set me on a course that I’m unfamiliar with and uncertain how to charter. The words leave me adrift and swimming in memories that almost have me in tears.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure I ever stopped loving her.”

  Chapter 14

  Carver

  A little over a month ago, my agent asked me to list my top three team choices where I’d hoped to get drafted. At the time, my choices were LA, New York and Miami. All amazing coast locations, with great ball franchises and an overabundance of hot, single women.

  That was a month ago. Before I returned home to Seattle and found myself in the company of one very hot and single Logan Shaw.

  Now my top choice is the Puget Sound Pilots, the three-year-old expansion team in Seattle.

  I have no desire to go anywhere else. Logan just does it for me. She makes my blood burn hot. My skin is licked with flames when I’m with her. And the moment she walked into her living room wearing that skimpy bath towel, I became an incendiary device – ready to detonate on the spot.

  Seeing Logan in less-than-nothing shouldn’t be a big deal. During the summer, she’d wear bikinis and short shorts every day. Or tiny tank tops that left nothing to the imagination. But that was young, under-developed Logan.

  The adult-life-sized version – the one whose legs are long and toned, whose tits and ass are firm and round – is enough to steal my breath and give me wood. Thank God her roommate dragged me over to the couch, otherwise I would’ve stood there with my boner on display.

  And my attraction – and erection – hasn’t abated yet in the two hours we’ve spent together. It’s only intensified the longer I’m with her.

  After she was dressed and ready, I’d asked her if she minded spending the evening playing tourist with me. It had been years since I’d been downtown and enjoyed the Seattle waterfront. When I was here in March for the tournament, I’d only seen the inside of the arena and the view from a dentist chair.

  So tonight – with the weather a balmy sixty-four degrees – we took in all the tourist attractions Seattle offers, starting with Pikes Place Market, making our way through fish-mongers, flower sellers, and tables filled with handmade arts and trinkets by the local hippie community.

  We’re now sitting on Pier 57 overlooking the Puget Sound on top of the Seattle Great Wheel. My sights, however, are on Logan’s legs in the knee-length skirt she wore. They are fucking spectacular.

  I want to brush my fingertips over the top of her thigh, to gently caress the soft skin as I hear her breath hitch. I want to kneel in front of her, spread her legs wide and place my mouth at the juncture of her thighs. Inhale deeply and get lost in her feminine scent. Use my tongue and my mouth to make her squirm; watch as she comes undone with the strength of her orgasm before collapsing back against the glass window of the gondola.

  “What are you thinking?” she asks innocently, interrupting my very dirty thoughts.

  Busted.

  This could go one of two ways. If I tell Logan the truth and share my dirty fantasy, she could very well backhand me. Or, she could indulge me, letting me live out my porn-like fantasy.

  “You want the truth?”

  “Of course. Truth is always best.”

  “If you insist,” I say, taking the opportunity to eliminate the distance between us by scooting closer to her.

  Our hips touch as I strategically place my arm around her shoulders, ruffling her hair just slightly. I lean in, placing my lips at her ear, breathing in her scent. She doesn’t flinch or move away. This makes me very happy.

  “I was thinking very dirty thoughts...about you and me. What I’d like to do to you right now. I bet your voice would sound as stirring as a siren’s call as it echoes in this chamber, as you shatter in an orgasm. The one I’d give you with my mouth.”

  I stop there, the remaining words lodged in my throat. My hoarse voice is thick with desire.

  Logan leans to the side, tipping her head sideways to stare at me. Her eyes flash with fascination. The start of a naughty smile takes shape on her mouth, as she licks her lips and then tucks the bottom lip between her teeth.

  My brain goes slightly haywire, the neurons firing off in zig-zagging motions – the same feeling I’ve experienced when I’ve had a concussion. A little fuzzy and lightheaded.

  Taking the opportunity when it’s presented, I clutch her chin with my fingers, my thumb stroking roughly over that bottom lip just as I pull her forward to suck on it – moving my thumb out of the way so I can take her entire mouth and lock it with mine. She tastes of cinnamon and sugar from the mini-donuts we just devoured. I flick my tongue against the tip of hers and taste a remnant of sweetness.

  If you can ever have a second-chance at a first kiss, this is it. The kisses from earlier today were full of childhood first love memories. This one is made of adult-driven desires. The present tense. The carnal needs of a man and a woman.

  I pull back from our kiss and smile when I notice her eyes are still closed in a dreamlike state and her lips glisten. And when she opens her eyes, I see something more than desire. It has shape and color, and a glimmer of possibility.

  Her voice is raspy with lust. “What else?”

  Logan’s question blows me away. She wants more dirty talk. Holy fuck. I could definitely get myself into trouble with this girl.

  I don’t know anything about her sexual interests or experience, but I like things a little kinky. I like things rough. Not too rough – only to the point my partner allows – but spanking, hair pulling, biting, restraints...yeah, I’ve got a massive erection right now just imagining Logan laid bare over my knee.

  I place my hand between her legs, stroking the soft flesh hidden beneath her skirt. She allows her knees to drop open as my fingers make a journey up to her cleft. They hit pay dirt when they brush against the silky material of her panties and find her wet.

  My fingers continue their perusal of her softness, entranced with her reaction as she bites her lip with a moan, her head dropping back against my arm.

  “I don’t care that the entire city can see us...I’d slide the straps of your dress down your arms and bind your wrists so you couldn’t move. Your perfect tits would beg me to touch them. My mouth would take hold of your nipple, sucking it in, wetting it with my tongue. Biting it with my teeth. You’d moan and cry out – asking me to stop – but begging me for more. You’d be at my mercy. And I may or may not let you come. I’d use my fingers and my tongue to bring you to the brink of your orgasm, but I’d stop just before you hit the edge. And then, just when you think you couldn’t take anymore, I’d lift you up so you could straddle me. My cock would be so fucking hard and you’d be so wet, just dying to ride me. Your tits would bounce free, and you wouldn’t care who could see you.”

  I motion with a nod of my head at the rows and hills of condos and offices that line the Seattle streets below. Logan’s breath has sped up, her chest rising and falling in quick pants. My fantasy, spoken aloud, has turned her on. And I may be going to hell for enjoying that so much.

  The ride comes to an abrupt stop as our car sways up at the very top. I’m sure everyone else on this ride has their cameras aimed, taking photographs of the Sound and the mountains, but everything I want to see is right here in this spot. In her state of arousal, Logan’s more beautiful than anything else around me.

  I continue telling my sensual story, peeling back the edge of her panties and sliding my thumb through the hot, wet seam of her lips.

  “And then I’d slam into you, thrusting upward so hard, and so fast, you’d be coming in seconds.” I thrust my fingers inside her for emphasis as she gasps in pleasure.

  “More,” she pants out in a desperate plea.

  Whether she wants more of my fantasy or more of my finger fucking, I don’t know. But I’ll give her both.

  I continue pumping, as she scoots her ass down the seat toward the edge, opening herself up to me even more. Fuck, she’s so sexy as she rides my hand. The
car jerks and jostles us as we begin our downward descent. We’re coming toward the end of our ride and I need her to come before we hit the bottom.

  Sliding down to my knees, I kneel in front of her – just like in my fantasy. My mouth salivates because I’m about to taste her for the first time. I wanted to so many years ago, but it never happened. She was shy over that intimacy and never let me go down on her.

  My eyes flick to her face and I realize any bashful feelings that she may have had then no longer exist, because all I see on her beautiful face is desire.

  The ride is going to end soon and I don’t want to get busted. It may be considered a felony in Washington. And while that might not be a bad thing for a pro-basketball player’s rep, it certainly wouldn’t go over well for Logan.

  I make quick work of shoving my face between her thighs, inhaling her sweet fragrance. Her skirt is bunched at her hips and covers the top of my head. One hand goes to her inner thigh and pushes outward, the other slides the cotton panel of her panties over to make room for my mouth. And then it’s on.

  If I had the time, I would spread her out before me, naked as the day she was born, and show her exactly how she makes me feel. I would kiss every inch of her sweet, delicious body and eat her like a six-course meal – going back for seconds to ensure she has multiple orgasms.

  In my rush, however, all I can manage is a few flicks of my tongue on the most sensitive part of her body. I know she’s close, as her hips begin to thrust against my face. My dick is so jealous of my tongue right now that he’s pressing hard against my shorts like he’s fighting to get out.

  I slide my tongue down her center seam, and it’s coated with her essence. She jerks and cries out as I press down on her bundle of nerves just so. And then I pull out all the stops – tunneling two fingers inside her wet channel and sucking her clit into my mouth. Hard.

  Her whole body stills for a second before she begins to shake and convulse with what I assume is the start of a powerful orgasm. Logan grabs the hair on the top of my head in a tight fist and holds me there as she lets go of a piercing cry, shattering beautifully underneath me.

  And with no time to spare.

  I hate wrapping this up with such haste, because I’d prefer to linger, maybe even getting her off a second time, but I notice the car is now making its descent to street-level. I climb back to the seat bench, carefully replacing her skirt across her lap and take a swipe at my mouth with the back of my hand. I taste her everywhere, and it’s fucking glorious. I smile smugly when I glance over and take in the expression on Logan’s face.

  It’s a mixture of satiation and bliss. It gives me a cocky sense of pride to know I did that to her. It was risky business – with the potential of serious consequences. Or worse, some gawker could have gotten us on video, exposing our naughty-trip around the wheel. But none of that matters as I watch her pry her heavily-lidded eyes open and see the sexy flush painted across her cheekbones. I know I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

  Her taste still coats my tongue and I’m sure her musky scent will linger in the carriage as the door automatically opens with a ‘whoosh’. The ride attendant assists Logan out by offering his hand, as I climb out behind her.

  “Did you enjoy the ride?” he asks Logan, whose eyes flash with naughty mischief. She bites down on her bottom lip to suppress the giggle that’s about to break loose.

  And then, as if she can’t contain the secret anymore, she breaks out into a fit of laughter. I give the attendant a shrug of my shoulder, as if I have no earthly idea what she’s laughing about.

  “I don’t know about her,” I say in all seriousness. “But it was the best damn ride I’ve ever been on.”

  The older man, uniformed in his Great Wheel shirt, nods his head emphatically.

  “You got that right. No better vantage point than up there. It’s the ride of your life.”

  Another giggle tears out of Logan’s throat as she walks in front of me a few feet. Reaching for her hand, I wind my fingers through hers, grasping on tight, giving her a quick squeeze.

  “What’d you think, Lo? Pretty orgasmic, wasn’t it?”

  Chapter 15

  Logan

  Never in my adult life have I been this turned on – or allowed my body to lose itself so completely as it did back on that ride.

  Carver takes my hand as I nervously glance over my shoulder, surprised no one has rushed out to stop us for our public indecency. I shudder in disbelief. Did I really just let him do that to me in public? Only tramps allow that to happen – and after being called wretched names ad nauseam five years ago – I promised myself I’d never act like one.

  Yet one kiss and touch from Carver, and I’m spreading my legs like a bitch in heat.

  The steep climb up the brick-lined street to First Avenue has me somewhat winded. Or it could be from losing my breath at the top of the Ferris wheel. I give a sidelong glance to Carver, noticing his easy, calm demeanor. Like he’s simply enjoying a leisurely walk in a flower-filled park. Jerk. He’s utterly unaffected by what just went down a hundred and fifty-feet in the air.

  “Let’s get a drink.”

  Before I have a chance to reply, he’s yanking me through the beat-up wood door of an old tavern across from Pike’s Market. I haven’t been down to this touristy area in a long time, preferring to stay tucked in my quaint little Queen Anne neighborhood with our chic cafes and coffee shops.

  My eyes work to adjust to the dim lighting as Carver efficiently maneuvers us around the tables in the room, locating a small, wood-paneled corner spot. The booth is small with crushed red velvet seats that feel buttery soft against the back of my legs as I slide in without prompt.

  Dirty thoughts tickle my brain of the sexiness that just occurred ten minutes earlier. Instead of velvet, though, it was Carver’s hands touching the backs of my legs, holding me open with strong fingers digging into my flesh so his mouth could plunder my sensitive opening.

  I snap to attention when I realize there is a waitress at the end of our table.

  “What can I get ya, honey?”

  Clearing my thoughts, along with my throat, I ask for a beer, “Whatever IPA you have on tap is good.”

  Carver holds up two fingers. Oh God, the same two fingers he just had inside me a little while ago. I cringe in embarrassment. Not like the battle-worn barmaid will know what he was just doing with those long digits, but I know. It’s both thrilling and disconcerting.

  “Make that two, please.”

  The woman wobbles back to the bar, the sound of her squishy black shoes shuffling against the cement floor. I keep my focus on my hands resting on the table in front of me. Suddenly I’m overcome with an uncomfortable anxiety. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing with Carver.

  It was a lifetime ago that we meant anything to each other. And now after all this time and all the pain that still lingers in my heart, I honestly wonder why the hell I’m here next to him. For that matter, what the hell is he doing here with me?

  As if reading my mind, Carver swivels toward me, his amber eyes drinking me in. I press my back as far as I can into the back of the booth. I feel like a trapped rabbit, with the sly fox circling me, allowing me my last moments of existence before he pounces.

  Carver casually places an arm around the back of the booth, his fingers slipping behind my neck to lock me into place. As if I was going anywhere. As if I have the power to resist him.

  His voice is low, his throat moves with the grace of his words. “That back there, Lo, was the hottest thing I’ve ever done.”

  He leans in and presses his lips underneath my ear, nipping at the not-so-secret spot that turns all women on. And it does. I clench my thighs together, the ache that had just been dulled with his tongue, now roaring back to life again with the sensuality of his admission.

  “I can still fucking taste you on my tongue. You have me so turned on right now, I can’t stand it. I want you so bad right now, I’d take you back into that bathroom, pus
h you up against the wall and fuck you like the horny, dirty bastard that I am.”

  A gasp escapes me as my head drops back against the top of the wood-booth. His admission to being turned on by me is the sexiest truth I’ve ever heard in my life. This dirty-talking Carver is so different than the one I knew so long ago. He’s not the nearly innocent boy I once knew.

  He’s an experienced player that knows how to get what he wants from a woman. It should turn my stomach to know he’s used that naughty mouth on other girls, but it doesn’t. I simply want more.

  My voice is barely recognizable. “Then why did you drag me in here? My apartment is a half-mile away.”

  His curse is low and agonized. “Fuuuuck.”

  And just for giggles, I slide my hand up the thick muscle of his tense thigh and land on the even thicker bulge in his pants. His cock twitches beneath the heat of my palm and I squeeze, watching as his eyelids drop to slits.

  His hand brusquely removes mine to stop my groping. I’m disappointed. He’s apparently good at dishing it out but can’t handle the heat in the kitchen.

  “We came in here to give me a chance to cool down. Honestly...if we go back to your apartment right now, Lo, I won’t take my time with you.” He stares into my eyes and I see the heat flickering in his irises. “Or be gentle.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t want gentle. I’ve had that before and it doesn’t do it for me. I want Carver to take me right here in this booth. Just push me on all fours across this bench and fill me fast and furious.

  I dart a covert glance around the room, doing a quick scan of the others in the bar to see if anyone is watching. I lick my dry lips, as Carver stares at my mouth with his heated gaze.

  “Gentle is for virgins and prissy wives. I’m neither,” I state matter-of-factly.

  “You have no idea just how gentle I won’t be...” he growls.

  “No,” I admit, shaking my head. “But I want to find out.”

  The waitress returns with our beers, as Carver takes out his wallet and his phone. She stares at him as he drops a twenty on the scuffed table, types something in his phone, and jumps out of the booth – yanking me with him.