What happens when the star baseball player hits a home run into the art studio window?
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All Sadie Lane Garner needed to make herself happy was a canvas and paintbrush.
With copious projects due and little studio time, she volunteers to clean t...
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ELIJAH'S BREATHWAS hot against my damp lips. The rain continued to fall, trail the length of his braids, stick to his lashes, then bead off onto my face, which he hovered over.
His mouth grazed mine, and the warmth of his tongue tickled my bottom lip. The slick feeling caused me to let out the tiniest gasp, but it was still loud enough for him to hear over the rain.
Thunder rumbled again, and the sky lit up with streaks of light this time, tearing us from the moment. "As much as I want to make out with my girlfriend, we need to go inside before we get struck by lightning."
I blushed at the word girlfriend as my lighting swelled inside of me. He stood up, reaching a hand out to guide me back inside his room. We were both drenched, and I watched a tiny water pile pool beneath my feet on the hardwood. I shivered.
"Leave your window open. I want to hear the storm," I said.
Despite my shaking body, my insides boiled. I needed these cold clothes off. So, I turned my back and peeled my saturated shirt off, followed by my jeans, and they fell to the floor with a wet thud.
I reached for the clasp of my bra. After two strides, he was standing behind me, taking over. "You're shivering." He kissed my shoulder. His cool tee-shirt pressed against my bare skin alongside his hardness against my lower back.
He tossed my bra with my other clothing, and my breast felt heavy without it. But he quickly cupped them with his hands. "I know how we can warm up."
"How?" I tipped my head to the side, barely able to reply before his lips met my wet skin.
He strode to the bathroom and turned on the light switch and the faucet. Oh. We were going to shower together. It seemed like my imagination was coming to life. The rain and the sound of the running shower filled the space, and the hair on my arms rose.
From the bathroom, he undressed. I marched over with the intent of helping, but the second I tried taking his shirt off, he picked me up and set me on the sink. Somehow, I felt dizzier than the first time, and I could barely slow my fleeting thoughts.
"Mine," he breathed, kissing my breasts.
My head fell back, and I cupped his shoulders, careful not to pull on his braids.
"Mine," he said again, kissing my navel. He was about to kiss my thighs, but I quickly brought his head level with mine.
Gripping his jaw with my thumb and pointer finger, I mimicked him. "Mine."
A mischievous, sensual grin took over his face from my assertion. He licked his lips before delving for mine, neither of us having the patience to hold back. The kiss was a mixture of the tongue, heat, and dampness. He stood between my legs, pulling my lower back forward. I practically hung off the porcelain, but his body kept me in place.
