Fix Her Up

“Hey.” He dropped forward and captured her mouth in a seeking kiss. “Talk.”

She shook her head, her words emerging choppy. “No, it feels so good . . .”

Another kiss. Another longer one with tongue. “And?”

Travis reversed the circle of his hips and a shudder passed through her. “I guess . . . I’m worried about whether it’s feeling this good for you, too.”

This girl who’d shown up and shouted him back into existence, brought him leftovers and bravely poked his sore spots? He had her number. She was a giver in all things. Right now, he had to convince her to take. He needed to be the giver. For her. Just . . . her. “I’ve never had my head in this before, Georgie. I’m usually a million miles away.” Heart rapping against his ribs, he skated his open lips over her temple. “I’m right here. I can feel every fucking squeeze of your pussy and breath out of your mouth. Feels so good, I’m already trying to figure out how to get back inside you again. You’re worried it doesn’t feel good? I’m trying not to bust too early like a chump.”

If eyes could actually take the shape of hearts, Georgie’s probably would have in that moment. Her palms cupped his face and he leaned into her, letting her sigh wash over his face. “Really?”

“Yes. Christ, the things I’m going to do to you . . .” He pressed his face into the crook of her neck and pumped his hips harder, groaning over the perfect give of soft, wet flesh between Georgie’s thighs. “No more worrying about me. When I do something you love, tell me.”

Her fingernails grazed his back lightly on the way down to his ass, which she gripped hesitantly, then with more confidence. “I love when you teach me.”

Travis held his breath as heat threatened to erupt from his balls. Fuck. Fuck. He hadn’t beat off enough thinking about Georgie lately to last even a good half hour? Fight it back. Make it perfect for her. “You’re not hurting?”

One breath against his neck. Two. “I don’t mind it. I think I . . . like it.”

Travis’s hips were rolling harder and harder of their own volition at this point, his hunger strengthening with every smack of flesh, every whimper from Georgie. Jesus, she was sweet between the legs, so snug and hot. He’d never wanted this bad. Never felt wanted this much. A tightening started at the back of his neck and continued down his spine, curling at the base. Get her there. “You want me to teach you how to get off with my cock?”

Her eyelids fluttered, the muscles of her pussy contracting. “Yes.”

He nipped at her mouth. “Use your fingers. Go find that little clit I licked so right.” Breath coming faster, Georgie did as he asked, fingers wedging in between their hips, farther and farther until she gasped. “Good girl. Use your fingers to keep it from hiding. We want my cock to rub it all over, don’t we?”

Georgie’s nod was vigorous, her legs restless on either side of his body. “Yes, please. Rubbing.”

Travis slid his forearm beneath Georgie’s neck to anchor himself, loosely locking their lips together. “Tell me when I’m hitting it good, baby girl,” he rasped, flicking their tongues together. “You want to learn, you open your thighs and let your man grind. Let me swell that pretty clit up good.”

Using her fingers for guidance, Travis rode up the slippery pathway of Georgie’s pussy, putting easy pressure on her clit, twisting his hips—then starting again. The first few times he performed the movement, Georgie’s eyes went blind, the breath seizing in her throat, but it came out in a sobbing rush now, urging Travis to go faster, twist harder, his every movement bringing the base of his cock into hot, damp, desperate contact with her clit.

“Fuck, Georgie,” he growled. “Open your thighs for more. You’re getting more.”

Georgie’s back arched, her right knee extended out from the couch, giving him extra room to bear down, to angle his hips, and they descended into what felt like madness. Georgie whined and lifted her hips to meet his drives, her inner walls beginning a slow, tight milking of his cock. Travis almost couldn’t even look at her, worried the unchained sexuality breaking free beneath him might ruin everything, might make him come before her. In the end, though, keeping his eyes off her, keeping his skin off her, proved impossible. He was coming. Soon. Now. It was happening.

Finesse went out the window and Travis fell on Georgie, grunting, sucking in shuddering gulps of oxygen, pushing her thighs open as he thrust, thrust, thrust, listening to her cries of his name, treasuring the husky awe of them in his ears. All around him.

Their mouths met and gorged, Georgie’s hands slapping down on his ass to yank him deeper, urge him faster, and he didn’t have to think, didn’t have any option but to dip his head. Drop his panting mouth over her bouncing tits. Suction his mouth around her right nipple with a groan as come blazed a path up his throbbing dick, filling Georgie up as he continued to pump like a fiend.

“Shit. Too soon. No, no . . . baby—”

Her body went still, before quaking violently underneath him in climax—thank God—her pussy squeezing so tight, he shouted his victory into the crook of her neck, yanking her legs up and fucking into the storm for everything he was worth. His insides were razed, mind blown, but every cell in his body continued to gravitate toward Georgie until they were wrapped together on the couch, arms and legs entwined, mouths mashed together, hips slowing little by little.

Oh my God. Best everything of his life. Nothing came close.

But his chest ached. Hard. His mouth was dry, hands coasting and memorizing her skin. After sex came relief, right? What the hell was wrong with him?

When sex was over, it usually—always—meant parting ways after the sweat cooled. He’d never been anything but fine with that outcome, because he barely knew the women to begin with. Panic niggled at him now, though, refusing to give up. If Georgie tried to leave or make him leave right now, he wouldn’t like it at all. No, he would hate it.

She wouldn’t leave him, would she?

“Whoa,” she whispered at his ear, her fingers threading through his hair. “Porn sucks.”

His fear eased, a smile beckoning at the corners of his mouth. There was some insecurity in Georgie’s expression, probably thanks to his silent panic attack. So he framed her beautiful face in his hands and kissed it right off her mouth. “Nah. We’re just that good.” He dropped his forehead to hers. “How do you feel?”

Her catlike yawn made his throat hurt. “Like that.” She smiled, somewhat shyly. “But I also feel spoiled because that was better than . . . wow. Than I ever expected. And smug because you look spoiled, too. Are . . . you? You know, spoiled?”

“I can barely feel my fucking legs.”

The smile bloomed, spreading to her cheeks, eyes. Gorgeous. “We brought it.”

Could she hear his heart hammering? “Damn right we did,” he managed through the notch in his throat. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Me?” She pursed her lips. “You’re visibly worn out.”

Travis stood with a groan and scooped Georgie into his arms. “One time and you’re already cocky, huh?”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “The student has become the teacher.”

“We’ll see about that.” He yawned and pretended to stagger. “Tomorrow.”

They laughed quietly, their mouths meeting for a thorough kiss. When he pulled back, she was watching him through her eyelashes. “Are you staying?”

Tension crept into his shoulders, but he didn’t know where it stemmed from anymore. The worry that she might get the wrong idea and expect a commitment? Or worry that commitment didn’t seem like such a ridiculous notion when it meant getting to carry this girl to bed regularly? “For a while.”

Travis carried Georgie into her bedroom and lay down beside her, their bodies molding front to back like spoons, grounding him in the moment. His jumbled thoughts were almost forgotten in the warmth of her skin, the evenness of her breathing.

He wasn’t keeping her. He couldn’t. But what if he’d been wrong and this girl who owned his jersey and trusted him . . . did harbor real, lasting feelings for him? Then he was fooling himself that she wouldn’t get hurt. He was a selfish bastard, plain and simple.

I need to tell her what Stephen told me. Give her a chance to confess or tell him her brother was wrong. Which one did Travis want to hear most? It didn’t matter. He owed her full honesty, even if it meant their whole arrangement came crumbling to the ground. But as she turned in his arms and wedged her head beneath his chin, the words wouldn’t come.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Travis had spent the night. In her house. In her bed.

Probably, definitely by accident, but the fact remained. He’d lost consciousness with his arms wrapped around her and he was still there. They might not have eaten much of the chicken parm, but it was a heavy meal. That had to be the explanation for him passing out curved around her so protectively. So big and beautiful and male . . .

A sigh slipped out of Georgie’s mouth, but she gobbled it back up. She was not going to lose sight of reality here. As far as Travis knew, she was nothing more than a consenting adult engaging in a temporary sexual relationship with someone of equal mind. No sticky feelings or thoughts of white picket fences to be found. She’d been so confident in her ability to remain realistic. To know this situation was going to run its course. But she hadn’t counted on him rising to the occasion quite so fast. And spectacularly.