Chapter 3

The One Where They Play Pool

NATE

When Arielle yanks me out of the bar, I nearly stumble. Mentally I’m fucking tripping because it’s obvious how much she wants me, and it’s mutual. Ever since I first saw her two weeks ago, I haven’t stopped thinking about her.

It was at a race where I wasn’t participating. Instead, I was cheering on a friend, and Arielle just happened to be competing in said race. When I first saw her, it took my breath away. She was beautiful with long brown hair and stunning green eyes that could be seen for miles.

Her figure was heavenly and to add to it, she drove a car that was sexy as hell. She clearly knew her shit when it came to cars because she was telling other drivers things they could fix in order to go faster and it was wildly attractive.

She got even hotter when she beat everyone in the race. She won by three car lengths and that’s the moment I knew I had to meet her.

So, maybe I set up a race to entice her, and maybe I purposely swerved in an attempt to attract her attention so she’d have a reason to talk to me. But hell, I wasn’t expecting all of this. I wasn’t expecting the fiery personality, I wasn’t anticipating feeling so sexually attracted to her, I didn’t expect any of it.

Ultimately I end up speeding home and Arielle’s quick on my tail. It takes the two of us maybe five minutes to drive to my place and I quickly park in the garage, mentally trying to prepare for what’s about to come.

I hurry up the stairs, opening the front door for her as she takes a step inside. She admires my house, uttering, “Nice place,” as her hand runs along the back of the couch.

“How much of it would you like to see?” I question, closing and locking the door behind her.

She smirks, holding back a giggle. She turns her back to me, eyes scanning over my billiards table where a dining room should be positioned.

I was a bachelor. I didn’t need a formal dining room. I needed a pool table for an excuse to invite the guys over, smoke cigars and drink.

She kicks her shoes off and I do the same. I watch Arielle cross the room—hips swaying sinfully so—as she approaches the surface, following the curves of the table.

Just like I’d like to do to her body.

“Wanna play?” She asks, holding up a pool cue.

I’d rather fuck you—my mind says.

“You think you can take me?” I tease, eyebrow arched.

“You think you can handle all of me?” She sets the pool cue against the table, moving her hands to take off her jacket. My breath catches in my throat at the familiar sight of her curves, blood rushing quickly to my cock.

“You’re on,” I tell her. “You take the first shot.”

Arielle looks at me from across the table, hand set on her hip and hard fucking nipples apparent in her thin top. It’s distracting—to say the least—that she’s not wearing a bra when I’m trying to focus on the task at hand.

I approach her from behind, admiring the way she curves over the table sexily in order to get my attention. It works. God, does it ever work and I’m reaching for her instantly.

My hands grip her hips to distract her, fingertips digging into the fabric of her denim short shorts. She tries to focus on what she’s doing—long pool stick dangling between her fingers. I watch her wet her lips when I push my hips forward, rubbing my clothed cock against her perky ass. My jeans brush against the bare skin at the backs of her thighs just as I growl lowly.

She seemingly brings her attention more to me—breath catching as my fingers smooth over the curve of her ass where they follow her waist. I buck my hips into hers, dragging a hand down her spine as a grunt comes from deep within my diaphragm.

“Your ass is fucking brilliant,” I husk, admiring how it’s barely covered in her little shorts. She wore these today to tease me, I know that. Just like she went sans bra when she left the house this morning, knowing she’d be seeing me later. She’s been doing nothing but swaying her perfect ass in my face all night to torment me and my needy cock.

She sends the white ball straight into the solid four. It lands in the pocket, and I hear her breathe a sigh of relief. Although that’s useless when my fingers hook into her tank top, which I slowly pull out from where it was tucked into her shorts.

Her breath catches and she stands to her full height. She looks at me momentarily—seduction pooling in her eyes—before she turns back to the billiards table. She holds still while my hands wander all over her body. My hands work their way underneath her shirt where I cup her bare breasts between my hands before dragging them back, knocking her belly button ring while doing so.

She arches her back before striking another ball—this time, it’s the five—but it bounces in the corner, missing the pocket. I hear her curse before she turns in my arms and looks at me.

“Someone’s horny,” she muses, running a hand along my chest. I lean forward, pressing hot kisses to her jawline. This coming from the woman who ground her hips furiously against my own just minutes ago.