Page 44 of Play the Last Card
She trails behind me, allowing me to easily pull her along as she rambles. “I was just watchingFriendsbut we can watch something else, if you want.”
I think about the list in her phone, the one I tried to memorize so I can bookmark all the movies on there. “We could knock another movie off that list you started.”
“How did you know about the list?” She narrows her eyes.
I laugh. “Oh, so there is a list?”
“Well … yes.”
“Then let’s watch one of those?”
“How do you know about the list, Harvey?” Glaring playfully at me as I fall back into the couch, pulling her with me. I want her wrapped around me. I want to be wrapped up in her.
“I saw you adding to it the other night when we were at the movies. You saw two romantic comedy trailers and opened it up to add them.”I dig my fingers into her sides gently, loving the way she squirms in my grip before I let up and she just relaxes back into me. “I’ll go see those with you, too. If you want.”
Ivy turns her head to stare up at me for a moment, a soft smiling settling on her lips as she arches a little, stretching back to kiss me. I met her halfway.
When she sits forward, Ivy opens her phone.
“Murder Mystery,” she says quietly like she’s confirming with herself. She finds the film on Netflix and settles back into me.
She curls, shifting her position so she’s tucked more into my side rather than leaning back against my chest. Her leg goes over mine and she stuffs a hand into my hoodie’s pocket before laying her head on my shoulder, the movie titles rolling.
“I’m glad you didn’t want to sit at home,” she whispers.
“Me too.”
Somewhere toward the second half of the film I feel the fist that is still tucked in my hoodie pocket clench, scrunching the fabric between her fingers. My eyes are focused on the screen but I can’t tell you what is going on in the film. I’ve been reciting the starting lineup for the Celtics for the last ten minutes trying to keep my hard on from growing any further.
I swear, it started as innocent touching. I rested a hand on the leg that was thrown over my own. Then my thumb moved, tracing the soft fabric of her sweat pants. It was about then that I’d stopped paying attention to the movie.
Ivy’s body is a dream. My hand follows an invisible path from her thigh, over the curve of her ass. My fingers splay over the fabric of her sweat pants, digging into the soft flesh a little. I love the way my hands feel on her body, that she’s got more to hold, more to touch.
I run a hand over her ass again, not being about to resist giving it a playful, but gentle smack.
“Stop it. You’re distracting me,” Ivy whispers. I don’t need to look down at her to know there is a smile on her face.
Who gives a crap about what Adam Sandler is doing when I know just how soft the skin is under my hands?
Jennifer Aniston has nothing on Ivy Booker. Not to me.
Fuck.
I meet Ivy’s eyes. Her fist is still clutching the hoodie but I don’t move the hand that has drifted up her leg to the crest of her ass. I look down at her, eyes flicking between her lips. Her tongue darts out and wets her lips. I can’t help it.
Movie be damned.
I lean down and capture her lips with mine. The kiss isn’t slow or teasing. It is hard and messy and desperate. This girl has me wrapping my free hand around the nape of her neck, pulling her up my body and closer to me. I dig my fingers into the soft curve of her ass and tug. She falls completely across my lap and I keep tugging, not stopping until she settles there.
A groan rumbles from deep within my chest as she rolls her hips against mine. A small, delicious whimper escapes her mouth as I pull away. I lift my hands, running my fingers through her hair. It’s so damn soft.
Everything about her is soft.
Her skin, her body, her lips, her hair.
Her.
I run my mouth along her jaw. She arches in my lap, her large breasts pressing into my chest. I curse my decision to wear a hoodie because if it wasn’t for the thick fabric, I’m sure I would be able to feel her hard nipples against my chest.