Maybe Not (Maybe #1.5) by Colleen Hoover Read Free Book Online Page A

wouldn’t know, because I’m not allowed to touch them.
    Am I?
    I hesitantly lift my hands to feel the softness of her skin, but she immediately shoves my arms away from her, back to the bed.
    God, it’s torture. Her breasts are right here , inches from me, and I can’t even touch them.
    “Where are your condoms?”
    I point to the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. She slides off of me and I watch her closely as she walks to my nightstand. She opens the drawer and sifts around until she finds one. She puts it between her teeth as she walks back toward the foot of the bed. She doesn’t climb back on top of me. Instead, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and begins to shimmy out of them.
    I’m harder than I’ve ever been, and I can feel my pulse throbbing throughout my whole body. She needs to hurry the hell up and climb back on top of me.
    She leaves her panties on as she bends over and begins to pull my jeans the rest of the way off. She hooks her hands in my underwear and pulls them down as well, the condom wrapper still dangling between her teeth. Her hair is the perfect length, trailing lightly over my skin like feathers every time she leans over me.
    Once all my clothes are off, her eyes focus on the hardest part of me. A smile tugs at her lips and her eyes meet mine. She pulls the condom out of her mouth.
    “Impressive,” she says. “This definitely explains your inflated ego.”
    I take the insult with the compliment, because I already know Bridgette isn’t the type to dish them out.
    She straddles me again, still wearing her panties. She leans forward and presses her palms into my forearms. Her mouth meets mine, and her breasts press against my chest, causing me to groan. She feels incredible. So good. I’m worried now, because we haven’t even had sex yet and I can already tell I’m ruined.
    I can feel her wetness through her panties as she torturously slides up and down, up and down, as slow as she possibly can. Her tongue is in my mouth, and I keep trying to grab the back of her head, or grip her by the waist, but every time I move, she stops me.
    I imagined she would be bossy in the bedroom, but nothing like this. She won’t even let me touch her, and it’s fucking killing me.
    “Open your mouth,” she whispers into my ear. I do, and she places the condom wrapper between my teeth. I bite down on it and she uses her own teeth to grip the other end of it as she pulls away from me, tearing the wrapper open between both our mouths.
    Okay, that was hot.
    So hot.
    We should quit our jobs and do this full-time.
    She pulls out the condom and sits straight up. She looks down and licks her lips as she slides the condom over me and I moan, because her hands are fuck. They’re too much. I want them everywhere.
    I understand how guys can say stupid shit in the throes of passion, because I want to say so much to her right now. I want to tell her I love her and that we’re soul mates and that she should marry me, because her hands make me think stupid, stupid, untrue thoughts like this.
    She lifts up higher on her knees and pulls her panties to theside, leaving them on as she begins to lower herself on top of me.
    It’s official. She’s the best roommate I’ve ever had in my life.
    She winces slightly when she begins to take me inside of her, and I feel kind of bad that it hurts her. But not bad enough to stop myself from lifting my hips and sliding into her the rest of the way.
    As soon as we’re flush together, we moan in unison.
    I’ve never felt anything like it.
    It’s as if her body contours perfectly to mine, fitting every line and curve and dip. Neither of us moves an inch while we fill the room with heavy gasps, giving ourselves a moment to adjust to the sheer perfection we just created.
    “Fuck,” I whisper.
    “Okay,” she replies.
    She begins to move, and I don’t know what to do with myself. My hands want to hold her by the waist as she slides up and down,