The Virgin Game Plan

by Lauren Blakely

  “Do you have to go?” I ask, pitch rising.

  “No, I just wanted to check the time. In case you had to go.”

  I dip my head, smiling. I press my lips together, then ask, “What are your plans? You’re the guy with the plans after all.”

  “I didn’t make any for today.” It sounds a little like a confession, like he’s waiting for me to ask why.

  I go for it. “Why did you leave your day unplanned?”

  He scratches his jaw, his expression showing a hint of vulnerability that’s so appealing. “That whole thing you were just saying about speaking the truth? About giving people a part of yourself or more?”

  I nod, my chest tightening with anticipation.

  “Can I just speak the whole truth to you right now?”

  “Of course.” My answer is all breathy, betraying my heart.

  But I don’t care.

  He reaches for my arm, squeezing it. “Talking to you is one of the easiest things I’ve ever done, Reese. It was easy the first time we met. It was easy the other day. Even though you’ve been out of my life for so long, it feels like whenever we talk, like the other night, like today, it’s so easy for us to fall into step, isn’t it?”

  “Confession: I was thinking the same thing.”

  His smile is electric. “Were you?”

  “Don’t I look like I was?” I ask playfully.

  He shoots me one of those deliciously cocky grins. “I don’t know. Sometimes you look at me like you’re thinking other things entirely. Things about…not discussing,” he says, moving a little closer, using our synonym, his voice going to that husky zone that tells me his mind is heading down another track.

  A track I like.

  A track I wanted to get on the other night, wanted to get on two years ago.

  A track I still want to take.

  “Sometimes I am thinking that.”

  His eyes roam up and down me, making my skin sizzle. “You want to know what I’m thinking right now?”

  So much. “I do.”

  “I’m thinking this is a risk,” he says, pointing from him to me. “I’m thinking of all the things we talked about at the Legion of Honor. How this might be trouble. How this might be spun. But I’m also thinking right now I can’t find it in me to care. I want to be with you more than I can let myself care about any of those things.”

  My heart flies on widespread wings, even though nothing has truly changed.

  We can’t be together in the way we want. The score hasn’t switched. The stakes haven’t shifted.

  But maybe the difference is that with more time together, we feel more desire. So the weight of the decision shifts to the now. To today. To wants and wishes and desires, rather than sense and wisdom and prudence.

  “I’m thinking the same things,” I confess in a whisper.

  “I’m thinking it’s a great plan,” he says, in a sexy, sensual offering.

  “It is.”

  Heat rises in me, licking my skin, leading me on. Pushing me past all the reasons to say no. We’re off-limits. We’re forbidden. Someday he could be a client.

  And the big reason for him—I’m the coach’s daughter.

  But he doesn’t make me feel that way.

  I’ve only ever felt like the woman he desperately wants. I like being that woman. “So, you really don’t have any plans for the rest of the day, Holden?”

  “Not till my game.” His answer is husky, suggesting he might not have plans, but he has lots of ideas.

  I twirl a strand of my hair. “Is there a reason you didn’t make plans?”

  “I’m looking at that reason.”

  I light up, sparklers shining brightly.

  I lift my chin, brazen, bold. “What do you want to do with me?”

  “I want to take you back to my place, spread you out on my bed, kiss you all over, pick up where we left off.”

  It’s a terrible idea, I know that. But it also sounds like the best idea ever.

  A few minutes later, he’s ordered a Lyft, we’re sliding into the back seat, and he takes my hand, threads his fingers through mine, then runs his thumb over my wrist. His touch sends my pulse into overdrive, igniting every cell in my body.

  Humans don’t always listen to their instincts. Sometimes that’s a good thing. Sometimes it’s not.

  I know where this day is heading, and I still don’t have any regrets about listening to my instincts right now.

  19

  Holden

  There are no candles. No soft music. No flowers to set the mood.

  Don’t need those.

  We set the mood nearly two years ago the afternoon we met. The afternoon we sparked.

  Chemistry—it only grows stronger between this woman and me. We might have faded to embers while we were apart, but we’re roaring again, a fire lit with one glance, one touch, one day together.

  Just like before. That’s all it seems to take between us.

  A little bit of time.

  A few hours together, and boom.

  We combust from each other. From the getting-to-know-you, from the flirting, from the feeling.

  All I want now is to feel Reese against me.

  The second the door shuts, I haul her close, kissing her hard and fierce, the way I wanted to kiss her in the Lyft.

  I capture her mouth with mine, and she moans the instant we make glorious, mind-bending contact. She arches against me, slinking her arms around my neck, her fingers playing with the ends of my hair.

  I’m acutely aware that she’s a virgin, but she’s no blushing innocent. She’s all woman, completely attuned to her own sexuality, to her own needs. There’s heat and hunger in her sounds and in the way she knows her body—the way she wants to know my body too.

  This kiss is urgent and hungry, stoked by need.

  We aren’t teasing or lingering anymore.

  We’re pent-up, and the rumbles that fall from my lips let her know how much I want her.

  When we break the kiss, both of us are panting. Even though she’s given her permission by being here, I still want to make sure she’s on board every step of the way. “Are you good with this, Reese?”

  “With this and with whatever happens next,” she adds, fire blazing in those crystal irises.

  I slide a thumb along her jaw. “Then tell me what you want next, and I’ll give it to you.”

  “The same thing I wanted that first night with you,” she says in a daring tone. “You, inside me.”

  I growl, running my hand down the front of her sweater, my fingers tracing the outline of her breasts as I slide lower to her belly. “You feel even better than the other night. And you felt pretty spectacular then.”

  She rises on tiptoe, leans in toward my ear, and whispers, “Do you think I’d feel even better with my . . . clothes off?”

  “Yes. Fucking yes.” My entire body shudders with lust. I hold her face. Stare into her eyes. “You’re a woman who knows her mind, right?”

  She nods. “I am.”

  “Then tell me, beautiful. Have you thought about how you want me to make love to you? Do you want me on top? Do you want to ride me? We can sit on my bed, and you can be in my lap,” I say, stopping to take a breath, because holy fuck, that sounds hot. Her eyes blaze, and I’m guessing she likes that too. “How do you want to do this? Because I want it to feel incredible for you.”

  She nibbles on her lower lip. “Well, the one thing I want is for it to be with you.”

  I laugh, lean in, and kiss her nose. “You’ve got that, beautiful.”

  Then I pull back and wait.

  She lifts her chin. “This is where I confess that I’m a bit of a researcher when it comes to sex.”

  I arch a brow. That’s interesting. “What do you research? Do you mean porn? Or do you mean articles on sex? Or something else entirely?”

  “I read a lot. I’ve kind of studied up on it.”

  I shake my head, amazed, and turned on even more. I want to know everythin
g about this woman and what makes her tick. “Tell me what you looked up,” I say, sliding my hand down her side, savoring the feel of her.

  “Articles and info on what feels good. Tips for the first time. Tips for the best positions for a woman’s pleasure.”

  I blow out a stream of air. Damn. “That’s incredibly sexy that you’re so attuned to your body and your wishes that you’re researching it.”

  Her fingers play with the ends of my hair. “Want to know what I learned?”

  I lean in closer, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I absolutely do.”

  “I’m pretty simple. I want to be spread out on your bed, look up at you, and feel you move inside me. I want to be underneath you and feel the weight of your body on mine.”

  A blast of heat rips through me as those tantalizing images flicker before my eyes, beautiful and beckoning. “I’ll give you everything you want.” I reach for her hand and guide her to the bedroom in the back of my home.

  I take my time, unbuttoning then sliding off her top, kissing her bare skin as I reveal it—her shoulder, her stomach, her breasts as I remove her bra. Savoring the softness of her skin, I move lower, kissing her belly button, licking that strip of flesh right above the top of her jeans before I undo the button.

  She murmurs, “I’m so turned on by you.”

  “Turned on barely covers what you do to me. You make me so hard,” I say as I slide her jeans down over her hips to her thighs, my breath rattling in my lungs when I see her panties.

  I expected red. But she’s not dressed in that shade. “I thought you’d have on your power color,” I say, mesmerized.

  She gives a coquettish smile as she shakes her head. “I guess I was feeling like white today. When I woke up, maybe I knew that white was the right color. That you’d take it from me,” she says, and her meaning is crystal clear.

  “Oh, I will. I absolutely will.” I slide down the white lace panties with a pink bow right in the center. I lean in close, nipping the little bow. It looks like candy. The kind you can’t get enough of, where you need more and then another and then just one more. That’s how I feel with Reese.

  I can’t get enough of her.

  I slide the white lace down her legs till the panties hit her ankles and she steps out of them.

  Then I kiss my way up her legs, along her calves, her knees, and her thighs, savoring the way she trembles as I caress her skin with my lips.

  I reach her mound and press a kiss there, inhaling the sexy scent of her wetness, the spice of her arousal.

  “I want you to do that to me again,” she says in a breathy whisper. “To go down on me like you did that first night. That was so intense, Holden. I think about your mouth on me all the time.”

  She doesn’t have to ask twice, because I’m so ridiculously aroused that she asked once for what she wants.

  I stand up, loop a hand around her waist, and bring her to the bed, stretching her out on the mattress, then climbing over her. “What do you know? I think about that all the time too. I get off to you,” I say in my own dirty confession.

  She arches her back just from my words, then dances a hand down her body. “I picture it, and I touch myself. I play with myself. And I imagine what you did to me. I imagine you doing it again.”

  My body heats up, rocketing to supernova levels from the images that she paints before my eyes. Her laid out on her bed, naked, just like she is now, touching herself.

  “Someday I want you to do that,” I say as I tug off my shirt, tossing it onto the floor. “I want to walk into the room, find you here, and see your hand between your legs, your other hand on your tits. Playing with yourself, eyes closed, head thrown back, moaning and groaning in pleasure.”

  She slides her hand between her legs, playing with her clit. “Just like this?”

  My breath staggers. “My God, you’re so fucking incredible.”

  I move over her, planting a kiss on her sexy mouth, biting her lower lip, drawing it between my teeth. “I can’t believe you haven’t been with anyone else.”

  She scoffs lightly. “Why is it so hard to believe?”

  “You’re so fucking beautiful. You’re so fascinating. You’re so smart. You’re . . . everything,” I say, and then I stop myself because, my God, I sound like a man who’s falling hard for a woman.

  But then, I suppose that’s what I am.

  “Believe it, Holden,” she whispers.

  “I do,” I say, giving in to whatever this is as I kiss my way down her body. Then I go down on her like a man who’s falling so ridiculously hard. I spread her legs, pushing her knees open, and I kiss her sweet pussy.

  My head swims with pleasure from the scent of her, the taste of her. My skin sizzles everywhere. Electricity pops and crackles down my spine as I caress the paradise between her thighs.

  My sensual woman cries out, then bucks her hips.

  And in seconds, we are off to the races, her hands curling around my head, her fingers spearing through my hair, and her hips going to town on my face.

  She thrusts and moans, rocking her hips, letting her knees fall onto the covers.

  She is a woman who knows what she wants, and what she wants is me. It’s such a gift, the way she chases pleasure.

  She’s fearless as she lets go, writhing against my mouth, yanking me closer. My face is buried between her legs, my hands gripping her hips, then sliding up her stomach, playing with her tits, mapping her body, as her arousal coats my jaw.

  I don’t want to leave.

  She’s everything—temptation and exquisite torture all at once, and every kiss, every suck of her clit stokes my own need for her.

  For her pleasure.

  For her passion.

  For the moans she can’t stop making.

  Oh God.

  Yes.

  I’m close.

  I am lost in the taste of her, drowning in desire as she floods my tongue.

  Soon, she’s calling my name and coming undone, the taste of her climax driving me insane.

  I kiss her through her orgasm, licking and devouring as she grips my head even tighter, her moans and groans the most wonderful soundtrack I’ve ever heard. When she laughs lightly, then gently pushes me away because she’s become too sensitive, I stop, rise up on my knees, and regard the blonde beauty in my bed.

  She is a hot, sexy mess, her hair a wild tangle, her cheeks flushed.

  Hints of red in them.

  I wipe off my mouth and press my lips to her cheek.

  “I see you’ve got some red in your cheeks. Your power color. Because your sexuality is so fucking powerful,” I say.

  “Then let me share it with you,” she says. “That’s all I’ve wanted.”

  “Same here. Now, let me see how you look on top of me,” I tell her, commanding her like she wants. Like I want too. “Because I’m going to want that next.”

  She wiggles out from under me, moves over me, pushes my shoulders down, and straddles me.

  I love the way she’s looking at me right now, and I know that the second time we do this, I’m going to want her to ride me so fucking hard.

  I shouldn’t be thinking of second times. But I shouldn’t be thinking of first times either.

  And I am.

  Fuck regret.

  Besides, she looks so good like this. So damn good that she needs to know. “Beautiful, the next time we make love, you need to get on top of me, slide onto my cock, and ride the fuck out of me because this is the hottest image I have ever seen in my entire life,” I say, gripping her hips tightly, gazing at the hot as sin woman on me.

  “I’m down for that. And do you know why?”

  I reach for her face, stroking my thumb over her cheek. “Tell me.”

  “Because I have no regrets with you,” she says, intense, certain.

  It feels important. Like her words are a promise to herself, of something private and personal. Like she’s just now sharing it with another person.

  “I would never regret
you,” I say, even though she’s a line I shouldn’t cross.

  But fuck lines. I cannot resist Reese Fallon.

  She’s the risk I’m willing to take.

  I slide out from under her, shed my clothes, leave them on the floor, then reach into my wallet for a condom.

  She lies down, her hair fanning out over the pillow, like a goddess.

  When I return to the bed, she lifts a hand, holding my face, her blue eyes full of trust and heat at the same damn time. “I wanted it to be you for so long.”

  A spark sizzles down my spine and shoots into my heart too. “Me too. I wanted this too.”

  And I suppose this is why I didn’t see anyone else. Because I was somehow waiting for her too.

  20

  Reese

  This may be my first time, but I’m pretty sure I know what I like.

  I’ve talked plenty about sex with my guy friends and girlfriends. I’ve read countless articles and scoured tons of websites. I’ve experimented with toys too. When I traveled to South America, I made sure I was equipped for those lonely nights out of the country with more than just my fingers.

  Most of the time, my fingers work quite well in tandem with my imagination, and I don’t need a ton more. I like to linger in the pleasure, to take my time, to make it last.

  But there were other nights when I was tired, when I was exhausted, yet I still wanted that rush of a climax to send me into slumber. That’s where bullet vibrators came in, little silver things that would buzz and shake in all the right ways.

  Now and then, I took a dolphin or a rabbit out for a ride and savored that sensation of being filled. Of having something long and thick and hard inside me.

  I learned I like it deep. I like it luxurious. I like going slow and feeling the thrust.

  So I’m not worried about penetration.

  I’m just ready.

  In every way. Body, mind, and—surprisingly—my heart.

  I tell him how I like it. “I want you to take your time. Make it linger. Long, deep, slow,” I say.

  “Consider it done,” he says.

  By some measures, I barely know this man, but that’s only if the yardstick is hours or days.