I worked my fingers under the scarf and into her hair, feeling how soft and thick her curls were, and leaned my face closer to hers, so our breaths mingled. I kept my movements slow, wanting her to have time to push me away, for one of us to remember this was a bad idea. We didn’t, and our lips hovered close. “Britta,” I said, aware of every point where our bodies connected and the way her irises darkened. “Can I kiss you?”
She tipped her chin, and when our mouths met, I took her lower lip between mine and sucked, slowly, patiently, willing myself to savor this. It wasn’t a tentative kiss, though. It was what I’d been craving for months, and I breathed her in.
She arched against me, whimpering my name, and I was lost, gone at the idea she’d been craving this, too.
“Britta,” I said into her skin, kissing her neck and loving the way her nails grazed my scalp. Her body was eager, and she pressed her hips to me, searching.
“We shouldn’t, but—” She panted, grabbing my hand and pushing it up to cup her perfect full breast over the thin fabric of her tank.
My God. I massaged, taking as much in my palm as I could before gliding my thumb over the peaked tip of her nipple. She shuddered under me, and I did it again, wanting to bury my face under her shirt, seeing if she shuddered like that when I glided my tongue over the sensitive spots.
“You’re my coach.” She let out the words between kisses. “And I’m . . . I’m . . .”
“Do you want me to stop?” I pulled my lips from hers, stilling my hands and looking down at her beautiful, open mouth, her wide eyes. I didn’t give a damn about being her coach, not after kissing her, and not after having her like this, but the last thing I wanted was her feeling uncomfortable.
She shook her head, pulled her lower lip between her teeth, and searched my face, eyes bouncing between mine for interminable seconds. “Don’t stop.” Britta shifted her thigh to my hip, opening herself to me, and I dragged my palm from the luscious weight of her breast down to knead her ass as she pleaded, “Don’t stop.”
I rolled her to her back and settled between her legs, pressing myself against her heat. She let out a small, strangled cry against my shoulder when I ground my length against her. I couldn’t decide where to touch, where to taste her—I wanted to be everywhere, and she was still letting out muted whimpers and moans that sent me into overdrive. I wanted to tell her I was crazy about her, that she was always on my mind, that the thought of her with someone else drove me nuts. Britta’s kiss was like her smile—it made me feel invincible, and I dipped my head for another.
“Wes! Are you up? Wes! Hey!” A bang against the door, and Jon’s small voice called from the other side. “It’s morning! We can play football again!”
I sucked in a ragged breath and locked eyes with Britta, who pressed her lips together to stifle a laugh. “Okay, buddy,” I called out. “Um, give me . . . a little time.”
“Grown-ups are so slow!” Jon yelled, his feet pounding on the hardwood floors.
“Fuck,” I whispered, rolling to my back, pulling Britta with me, her head again resting on my chest.
“You kissed me.” She scratched her nails over my stomach, making me inhale sharply. When she lifted her head to meet my eyes, her cheeks were flushed.
I rubbed my thumb over the back of her neck. “I think you kissed me first.”
“This is complicated.” She slid her palm up my chest, her gaze following its path until she cupped my neck. “There are probably things we should talk about.”
This hadn’t been my plan, but it was happening, complication be damned. “Definitely complicated, but . . .” I stroked the side of her pinky finger up and down. “But worth it.” I wanted more than just that moment and more than stolen hurried kisses. I wanted to tell her I wasn’t pretending, that what I felt for her was bigger and deeper than what I’d ever felt for anyone else. When I opened my mouth to say it, my phone vibrated on the dresser where I’d tossed it the night before, making us both jump.
It buzzed again and we giggled. Britta’s lips brushed against my shoulder, and I pulled her closer. The vibration stopped, and I slid my finger along her cheek, brushing strands of hair away.
It wasn’t lost on me that it was the first time I hadn’t tensed at a call. I felt okay letting it go when I had Britta in my arms. I was okay with not being in control of things. “Sorry. Go ahead. What happens next can be anything you want, Bubs. It can be nothing at all, or . . .” I traced my fingers down her neck, enamored with getting to touch her in that warm bed with the breeze blowing in. I felt like I was where I was meant to be. “I . . . Britta, I think I’m fall—”