Calling It by Jen Doyle Page B

doing anything to help remind her that he was not her friend—that she did not want an actual relationship. That even if she did, it couldn’t be with him. But she probably shouldn’t have snatched her hand away and snippily said, “Playing Prince Charming is a lot better than being thrown around, I’m guessing.”
    Nate laughed. He thought she was kidding. Or playing hard to get.
    She carefully put her hands in her lap so that they were out of his reach. “No joke. They called it Toss the Toddler. They gave each other extra points when I was really squirmy. I got really good at the tuck and roll.”
    “I don’t know,” he said, a twinkle in his eye although he managed to refrain from laughing again. “I think I’d rather be tossed around than have to ferry my sisters and their friends around in the wheelbarrow every day. Or kiss them.”
    Oh, God, no, they couldn’t start talking about kissing.
    Yet she went ahead and answered, “You can’t seriously think that having to kiss your sisters’ friends comes anywhere close to being used as a ball.”
    “Uh, no. Not when you put it like that.” He was no longer able to stifle his grin. “Although I do stipulate that kissing girls when you’re eight is not the same as kissing them when you’re eighteen.”
    Dorie should have responded with something clever and cute. Should have changed the subject already. But instead her gaze drifted down, her lips already tingling. And then she looked up to see him watching her closely. The tip of her tongue darted out—she honestly didn’t know if it was intentional. She couldn’t think past the part about how he might taste.
    She should stand up. Stand up and get as far away as was humanly possible. But instead she brought her eyes up to meet his. And when his hand cupped the back of her head, she let him guide her to him.
    “Or now,” he said softly as her bones melted away. “I really like kissing now.”
    Then his mouth was on hers and she nearly cried. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet—felt so right. His tongue found hers and her body took over, molding itself to him. Her hands went to his chest, fingers skimming over the surface of his T-shirt, her thumb seeking out his hard, flat nipple. When she flicked it, he went still—except for his head pulling back, breaking the kiss.
    Rather than pull the rest of himself away, a rumble of laughter moved through him. And then his hands were on her hips and she was suddenly being lifted through the air before being brought down hard against him. Her legs fell apart all on their own. Straddling him as he ground her hips into his, she almost came right there. A sob racked her body at the feel of him anchored against her.
    Oh, my freaking God. Her arms went around his neck.
    It wasn’t as though she’d never had sex. She’d had far too much of it as far as Christopher was concerned and an acceptable amount as far as she was.
    But...this. Oh, God, this .
    When Nate held her against him, tremors ran through her. When his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts, the only thing keeping her from shooting straight up into the sky was his hands holding her down. And when he broke off the kiss and pulled away slightly, muttering, “Holy fucking shit,” and looking into her eyes in a way that made her think he’d been as taken by surprise as she was, well...
    If her thundering heart wasn’t about to explode, she would have been muttering right along with him. She hoped to God she was just overdue for a serious vibrator upgrade. Because if that wasn’t the case?
    Oh, God .
    When he gently ran his thumb across her lower lip—when he again pulled her close and traced his tongue around the curve of her lips—tears came to her eyes from sheer bliss. And before she could even recover enough to part her mouth, he dipped his head down to the curve of her neck and pushed her shirt aside so that he could put his lips directly to her skin.
    Even as her eyes fluttered closed, a