[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE.
*REWRITTEN*
°•°•°•°
Hannah Walker doesn't trust anyone, especially men.
They're manipulative and toxic - her lousy ex taught her that lesson well.
Enter Tristan Beckett, the embodiment of everything she despis...
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Hannah
Tristan had absolutely no control when it came to kissing me — he was a man possessed.
Sometimes his kisses were sweet, leaving me breathless and lightheaded, but more often than not they were deep, demanding, and ruthlessly hungry.
Moaning, I reached up with both my arms and curled them around his neck, pulling myself closer and pressing my lips more firmly to his. I angled my head to deepen the kiss as my fingers combed through the loose curls at the nape of his neck.
His other hand moved to join the one on my ass, and with no effort at all, he lifted me into his arms. I squeaked into our kiss but didn't pull away, only tightening my grip around his neck and interlocking my legs behind him. I was vaguely aware of him moving us, but my hips had developed a mind of their own — rocking against him in a desperate search for some relief.
It was only when he lowered the two of us, and I felt the firm mattress against my back that I briefly registered where we were. In my communal house, in my room, and on my bed while at least twenty people loitered around downstairs. Penelope could have her ear pressed against my door again and I didn't care. I didn't care about anything except him and getting out of these stupid restricting clothes.
Our lips broke so that he could quickly pull my shirt off again. His eyes immediately dropped to my boobs and a wicked smirk covered his face as he also took the time to get rid of his own shirt. Once we were both topless, he dropped back down over me, and my nipples grazed his chest, making me shiver. One of his hands tangled itself in my hair and he ducked down to give me another searing kiss.
God, he was so good at kissing. I could kiss him forever.
His hand left my hair to slide down my neck and between my breasts, making my nipples pucker into hard points as his calloused fingers traced my heated skin. His cock pulsed against my stomach, hard and thick behind his pants as his mouth swallowed all of my moans.
The feel of him against me sent a bolt of electricity straight to my clit and my hands physically itched to explore the contours of his body. They ran down his impressive chest, over his rock-hard abs, before tracing that deep V with my fingertips.
No wonder they called them sex lines — they were so freaking hot. Everything about him was so freaking hot.
He pulled back and held still, breathing hard as he let me explore his body. I could feel the tension behind his rippling muscles as he fought to keep still under my touch. The tips of my fingers traced the hard ridges and bumps of his six-pack, following his happy trail to where it disappeared beneath his pants.
Looking back up at him, our eyes met as my hand boldly slipped into his boxers. My fingers quickly found the huge, throbbing cock straining against his pants. He was both silky soft and incredibly hard, and I couldn't help the curious, tentative stroke I gave him.
