Page 37 of Wright Together
“Take more than ten minutes, and I’m driving.”
Piper’s eyes rounded. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Blaire cackled and dashed for the entrance. I shook my head at the theatrics, but I wasn’t upset about it. Every second like this was a win in my book.
I came upon the rest of our friends. Nora was already making arrangements for everyone to meet at our chosen spot, Capital Pizza. Whitt’s hand landed on the small of my back, and a shiver coursed through me. I’d been playing it cool all week. Too busy to see him. I could have run over for a booty call, but I wasn’t sure exactly where we stood on that. He’d given in one night. Would he do it again?
“Hey,” I said, turning into him. “You coming for pizza?”
“I could be persuaded.” His eyes were on my lips.
“And how much persuading would you need?”
He dipped low until his mouth was level with my ear. “I wouldn’t mind hearing you beg again.”
My core tightened at the words. Oh fuck.
“I…” I began.
“You coming?” Nora asked with a twinkle in her eye.
“Yep,” I said hastily, taking a much-needed step away from Whitt. I’d thought I was hot at the game. Now, I was on fire.
“Y’all go ahead,” Whitt told her. “I’ll drive Eve.”
Nora and West exchanged a pointed look.
“Sure,” Nora said. “See y’all there.”
The rest of the team filed out of the indoor facility. Whitt grabbed my bag and slung it over his shoulder.
“Hey!”
He shot me a look that said he wasn’t going to budge, and I gave up. If he wouldn’t let me carry my own luggage, it seemed he wouldn’t let me carry my soccer bag.
“It isn’t even heavy,” I muttered.
He laughed. “That’s not the point.”
We trailed the stragglers into the parking lot. Whitt’s shiny Lexus stood out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of pickups. He slung my bag into the backseat. I reached for the handle of my door, but he was already there. His hands on my hips, pressing me backward into the car.
“Oh,” I gasped softly before his lips descended on mine.
Then, there was no talking involved at all. His tongue split delved in between my lips, massaging against my own. My hands fisted in his polo as I arched against his chest. Our bodies fit together, thighs to hips to stomach. I moaned at the taste of his sweet kisses and the feel of his body against mine.
His hands buried into my thick ponytail. He grasped it and tugged it backward to reveal the column of my throat. His mouth roved over the skin, heating me from head to toe.
“Fuck,” he growled. “You taste good.”
“Sweaty,” I said with a strangled laugh.
“Want to taste you all over,” he said as he ran kisses across my collarbone. “Didn’t have enough time before.”
“We don’t have enough time now.”
He adjusted my sports bra strap off of my shoulder to continue to kiss me. “We don’t have anywhere to be.”
“Pizza,” I reminded him.