THE NEXT CONTESTANT
It’s a contest only Jax and his fraternity brothers are playing. Whoever scores the most points wins the game. Kimber’s a feisty young woman enjoying life. No plans for finding Mr. Right. Not when Mr. All Wrong left her in a world of deceit and crushed her spirit. Jax is the epitome of men. His striking good looks turn heads. Lots of them. He walks past Kimber in a cloud of sex and arrogance, and he’s slowly dragging her in to his perimeters. This wasn’t a part of Kimber’s strategy—she hadn’t planned on him and struggles to pull back, away from his striking distance, the kiss of death. It’s a game of command and docility. He’s gaining control. She’s falling prey. When stakes are high and Jax is at the top, will he let it all go for Kimber? Because choosing Kimber will end his game and he’ll certainly fail if he drops out now. And if he backs out, will Kimber still want him when she learns the dirty little fraternity secret?
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“C’mon, Jax. Afraid to tap this wetness? Afraid to get yourself soaked?” She swoops down and splashes ice-cold water at me. I march after her and she knows, knows she’s in trouble now. She turns around and starts to run. God. Her ass. I want to bite it. I want to do all kinds of nasty with her and her sweet little ass. When she’s a good distance away from me, I go into a full sprint and catch up to her. It doesn’t take long before I’ve got my arms wrapped around her and I’m taking her down at the edge of the waves lapping at the shoreline. We’re both panting and smirking. “You think I’m afraid to get wet?” “It might mess up your perfectly messy hair,” she says as she reaches both hands up and brushes her fingers along my scalp. I push in between her legs and press my erection against her, then grind into her, hard. “Baby, there’s only one wet thing I want to tap into, and it isn’t the ocean.” I lean down, bite her pert nipple through the fabric of her top, and slide my hand down her side to cup her ass. I can’t help it if my fingers slip under the flimsy fabric and wander toward the crease. Once my finger hits that tight little rim, she jerks her hips up.
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