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Confused #1 (Confused Romance Series - book#1)

Page 3

by Oliver Cooper


  Still, there was something missing. Addled with lust, I couldn’t think of what it was, knowing only that there needed to be something more – something that wasn’t necessarily me yanking my shorts down and riding his cock, though that was a welcome idea – until Nick’s fingers slid ever so slightly down my jacket sleeve. Then I realized: he was keeping his hands to himself, one chastely on my arm and the other held out stiffly to his side, like one last vestige of propriety. I laughed, drew my lips up his jawline, enjoying the roughness of end-of-day stubble, until I brought my mouth to his ear.

  “C’mon, use your hands,” I breathed, liking how he shuddered at my words. I flicked at his earlobe with the tip of my tongue, and that elicited a soft moan. “You can touch.”

  It was as if he’d just been waiting for my permission. Nick spread his fingers over my ribs under my jacket, slid them around my waist to the small of my back, then going lower so that he could ghost them over the curve of my ass. His touch was warm, exhilarating, especially when he cupped my breasts through my top, slowly, almost reverently, rather as though he’d been saving them for last. Then he squeezed, thumbs pressing against my nipples, and I had to bury my face against his neck to muffle a groan. Though maybe I shouldn’t have bothered: the sound Nick made at the back of his throat was loud enough for the two of us.

  I glanced at the door. I didn’t think they could be heard inside the noisy pub, but if someone came out – one of the waitresses on a cigarette break, someone taking out the trash – there was no way we wouldn’t be seen. Nick probably felt how my attention had slipped from him, because he turned his head to see what I was looking at. I felt the movement of his throat and chin, felt the rumble of his voice in his chest when he asked, “Is this wise?”

  I licked a broad swathe from his collar to his jaw. “No,” I panted, forming the words against his skin. “But doesn’t that make it more fun?”

  He was about to answer, but I rolled my spine, trapping his cock between them once more. His right hand dropped to my waist to pull me even closer.

  “You could taste, you know,” I murmured as Nick’s hips stuttered forward in sharp, abbreviated thrusts. I put my hand over the one he still had on my breast. “You could pull down my top – yeah, right here – put your mouth on my tits—“

  “Oh God,” Nick groaned, his head going back so fast that it hit the wall with a dull thud.

  “Or under my shirt, at least.”I was beyond amused that I was having to talk a man into groping me – especially one who I’d already slept with – and I was enjoying it far more than when they tried to talk me into it. “Go on.”

  Slowly, Nick slipped a large hand beneath my tank top, and I felt myself grow even wetter at the touch of skin on skin. He spread his fingers (slightly callused, maybe from working out, maybe from some sort of hobby) over the smooth firmness of my stomach, inching them upwards until their tips just brushed the curve of my breast. Our eyes met, and I gave him a small nod – yes, you can – and, oh, his hands were lovely. He sought my mouth again as he rolled a nipple between finger and thumb like a fucking expert, making me gasp and arch into his touch so that I hardly noticed when he flipped us over, pinning me to the wall in turn.

  He put both hands on my waist to lift me up – just by a bit, there wasn’t much of a height difference with my heels on – so that we were positioned crotch to crotch, with me held up by the wall and Luke’s hand just below my buttocks. We were barely kissing now: it was more like we were breathing, licking into each other’s mouths as we rutted against each other. Nick’s breathing was harsh, and I wondered, deliriously, if he could feel how turned onI was like this. I hooked one leg around his waist, positive that if I moved in just the right way, the hardness of him would rub against the seam of my shorts in just the right way, hit me in just the right spot, and – ah – there it was.

  It would have been so easy to go on like that. I heard myself making helpless little noises as Nick thrust, fucking me fully clothed. I let my eyes fall shut, let my arms twine around his neck, ready to give in to the full carnal pleasure of what we were doing, but – at this, the worst possible moment – I started to talk to him.

  “I want to be with you, Nick,” I murmured into his hair. “I want more than this – more than sex.”

  The result was the worst possible thing, more devastating than if someone had doused us with cold water. Nick froze, lowered me gently onto the ground, and disentangled himself from me. As if that wasn’t distressing enough, he deliberately took two steps backward.

  “You don’t want that, Amy,” he said slowly, carefully enunciating each word.

  “You can’t tell me that!” I could barely stop myself from wailing. As it was, I was hard put to keep my distance. He’d put space between us for a reason, and I had to respect that. “I know you feel it too – we have a connection.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Nick actually looked pained, like the wronged hero of a gothic romance. “It’s been good, baby, but it’s going to disappear in the next few minutes.”

  “Why the hell should it? There’s nothing you can say that can make me change my mind about you.”

  “Yeah, right.How about this?”The bitterness in Nick’s voice cut me deeply, and it only grew worse with the next words he spat out. “I’m a stripper, Amy. That’s what I do at the bar. The gay bar.”

  I wish I’d reacted better. I wish I’d put my arms around Nick and told him that what he did for a living didn’t matter to me. Hell, I wish that I’d been able to think that, because, honestly, it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things (this stripper businesshad to be a temporary thing, right?). Instead, I staggered backwards until I could lean on the grubby wall for support, and my treacherous brain did what it always did in less-than-ideal situations.

  As my head reeled and my heart beat an arrhythmic tattoo against my ribcage, my one clear thought was that this was one thing my parents were never going to learn about.

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  More from Amanda Lynne

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