Ready and Willing by Cara McKenna Read Free Book Online

diaphragm convulsing until it hurts. When I recover I find them both smiling at me.

    “Don’t feel bad,” Rob says. “We’re the ones getting paid.”

    I put my hand on Noah’s arm. “Right. Well, we better get back to the harem.” I sound so obscenely cavalier I want to slap myself.

    “Good luck,” Rob says , hurdling right over the tactlessness bar I just set. He gives Noah a little wave. “I’ll see you later, Abby.”

    “Have a good night.” We watch him continue on toward Boylston Street, and I discover I’ve been holding my breath.

    “Wow,” Noah says and rubs a hand over his face. “Weird.”

    “I’m so sorry. Did that wreck the whole evening?”

    He looks me square in the eye and shakes his head. “I knew what the deal was.” He’s quiet for a while longer, and I watch the breath rising from his nostrils as he’s thinking. He gives me plenty of time to guess what he’s about to say, exactly how he’ll word it when he tells me he needs some time to rethink this whole ridiculous arrangement. When he opens his mouth to speak again, I’m expecting something dramatic, possibly ruinous.

    “Should we grab a pizza on the way back to your place?”

    * * *

    Noah is different now. Because he’s met the competition, I assume, and maybe because the competition is someone he’s possibly seen naked and maybe even gotten punched in the face by. In any case, he’s on me as soon as I shut the door behind us. He tosses the pizza box on the floor, and I’m pushed up against the wall, his mouth claiming mine. I try to guess if he’s hot over the wrongness of it all or if he’s looking to prove something. As his tongue slips between my lips, I decide I don’t give a shit.

    We kiss hard for a few minutes, eager hands groping through clothes until the fabric feels hateful. We pull our coats and sweaters off, and Noah struggles with my bra clasp as I tear at his shirt buttons. Buckles clink, and zippers unzip. We kick our pants away, touching each other through our underwear. Noah’s fingers rub my clit, and I lose coordination, pausing to admire his body as he pleasures me.

    “Jesus,” I mumble.

    “What?”

    “Your body, Professor Beefcake.” I run teasing palms over the lean, defined muscles of his chest. He’s smooth, just the faintest spray of soft brown hair as proof he doesn’t wax to get this look. Good. Call me traditional, but the whole manscaping trend turns me right off. “I can’t believe we’ve had sex twice, and I didn’t even know what you looked like under your clothes.”

    He laughs. “I’m always a little fatter in the winter,” he says, laying a hand on his stomach. “Too icy to go running every morning.”

    “Oh yeah, you’re a real tub.” I tap the backs of my fingers against his supposed gut. “Look at this.” I poke my own middle, persistently doughy no matter how often I talk myself into going to Pilates.

    “Girls are supposed to be soft,” Noah says. He runs his hands over my stomach, up to my breasts, spreading heat over my skin.

    “Not according to Maxim .”

    “According to Maxim , every guy is a total asshat . That’s why I read Harper’s . According to Harper’s , every guy’s a liberal wing nut.”

    “I’ll take wing nut over asshat .”

    “Lucky me,” Noah says softly and pulls me close. “You know, pretty soon you’ll be hee -uge .” He cups my sides as if he’s imagining my massively pregnant belly. Something about this innocent tease gets me so hot I feel crazed, burning and impatient, ready to tear at this man’s skin and pull his hair and force his body inside me. I cup his head in my hands and yank his mouth down to mine, kiss him deep and rough and earn myself a few gorgeous moans from this gorgeous man. He’s hard already, the ridge of his cock rubbing against my pubic bone. I step back a few paces, and he follows. Next thing I know, we’re on the floor, and he’s yanking my panties off, shoving his legs