She’s always played it safe… College junior Lucy Washington abides by one rule—avoid risk at all costs. She’s cautious in every aspect of her life, from her health, to her mock trial team, to the boring guys she dates. When a brash, gorgeous jock walks into the campus coffeeshop and turns his flirt on, Lucy is stunned by the force of attraction. For the first time ever, she’s willing to step out of her comfort zone, but can she really trust the guy who’s determined to sweep her off her feet? He’s always played around…
Entering his last year of college eligibility, linebacker Matthew “Matty” Iverson has the team captaincy in his sights. And it’s his for the taking, if he can convince his quarterback Ace Anderson to give up the starting position. Luckily, Matty already has an edge—the hottie he’s lusting over just happens to be Ace’s childhood best friend. Getting Lucy on his side and in his bed? Hell yeah. Matty is more than confident he can have both, but when he falls hard for Lucy, it’s time for a new game plan: convince the woman of his dreams that she’s not sleeping with the enemy.
I grab her foot and pull it into my lap. “Let’s do a risk/reward test.”
“Let’s not.” But her foot doesn’t move.
I massage her foot beneath the sock, pressing hard against the ball and then digging into the arch. She releases a tiny moan and her head falls back in a dick-hardening sexy motion. Fuuuuck. If this is how I feel from just touching this girl’s hand and foot, what would it be like to be between her legs, to suck on her tits, to feel her pussy pulse around my dick? Light-headed and incredibly aroused, I almost fall off the chair.
I gotta focus here. If I’m ever going to get past the foot and hand, I need to convince her that the reward with me would be off-the-charts amazing.
Clearing my throat, I keep rubbing her foot. “Having your foot in my lap, that’s a risk right? But you’re enjoying the rubdown. That’s a risk worth the reward.”
“Keep rubbing and stop talking,” she orders. Her eyes are closed.
Okay, but I’m not touching some other guy’s sock, particularly the guy whose bed she’s sleeping in. I don’t know if I fully buy into her “just friends” explanation for Ace. He has her picture in his locker. She’s wearing his socks. For all that, he’s at the Gas Station dry humping a Kappa and Lucy’s home alone. I pull off the sock and toss it aside and stare at her toes.
“Your nail polish is blue.” Since when did I think toes were sexy?
She wriggles them. “Yes, on both feet. You’re very observant. Haven’t you ever seen a girl’s toes before?”
“I’m sure I have.” I just don’t remember them. I have this strange feeling I’ll remember hers, though.
I run a light caress over the anklebone, down the spine of the Achilles tendon, and around the edge of her instep.
Her breathing hitches, so quiet and so soft, I might have imagined it.
“What’re you doing?” Her words are a husky whisper and my body responds accordingly.
My balls tighten and my dick’s so hard I’m worried it’ll snap in half, but I can’t reach into my jeans to readjust or I’ll scare her away.
“We’re testing your risk assessment.” And driving myself crazy.
“You should stop.”
“I can’t.” I move my hand up her ankle to cup the slender calf. “Feel good? Worth the risk?”
“I’m not sure.”
That’s an invitation if I ever heard one.
Is it possible to come from just rubbing a girl’s leg? I might test out that theory. “And now?” My fingers find the tender hollow behind her knee. Her pulse beats rapidly against my palm. She’s as turned on as I am and I haven’t even gotten to the good parts.
“It feels riskier,” she croaks.
Yeah, because pretty soon my hand is going to be on your thigh and I don’t know how I’m going to stop there.
Her fingers are turning white as she grips the sides of her chair. Is she holding herself back? Or keeping herself there?
Fuck, I want to kiss her so bad. I want to kiss her lips but I’d settle for her toes or her knee or‑shit, if all she’ll allow is for me to touch the tips of her fingers, I’d be okay with that. I need a taste of her. I’m dying for a taste of her.
About the Author
Jen lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog. She’s been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at email@example.com.
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