Free Rebound (Tryst Island Series) by Sabrina York Page B

kiss had been a peck. Maybe she was upset because of the feelings the scene had engendered—a roaring tide of jealousy and hunger and pain. That, and the fact they’d agreed to only rebound sex.
    And maybe she wanted more.
    And maybe she wasn’t really sure what he wanted.
    A weekend of torrid sex? Or more?  
    Or not?
    She was too afraid of what the answer might be to simply ask.
    She shivered. “Let’s go up to the house. I’m cold.”
    He put his arm around her and she let him. Only because she was cold and he was warm. And it was comforting.

Chapter Eight
    It was a long walk up to the house, but only because Kristi’s mind was in a whirl.
    On the one hand, she was over the moon to know Cam wasn’t Bella’s secret crush. She had a strong suspicion who was. Obviously her sister had witnessed Holt’s doomed attempt at seduction and assumed they were having an affair. Bella and Holt would be great together and Kristi would give anything to see her sister happy.  
    The other thought clogging her consciousness was this blooming relationship with Cam. He’d obviously cared enough to confront Bella to clear things up. Could it be that he, like she, wanted more?
    Without coming right out and asking him—which she didn’t have the nerve to do—she couldn’t know.
    But she could tip the scales in her favor.
    And try something she’d been aching to do since she’d caught sight of his beautiful cock last night.
    So she paused when they reached the steps to the deck on the main floor, not following the others as they made their way up. He stopped too, perforce, as she was holding his hand.
    He turned and quirked a brow. “Kristi?”
    “I think we need to have a chat.”
    He swallowed. Paled. “Oookay.”
    She steered him to the stone patio in the shadow of the overhang of the deck with the basement windows to their backs and the vista of the deserted beach before them. It was hardly a private spot for what she had in mind, but the naughty minx dancing in her soul didn’t care. It was private enough.
    And she had a powerful hunger to taste him.
    When she pushed him into one of the metal chairs, he didn’t resist.  
    “What’s up?”  
    She glanced at his crotch. “Nothing.”
    Oh, but it rose when she kneeled before him. When she kneeled before him and insinuated herself between his knees and ran her palms up his hard thighs.
    “K-Kristi?”
    “Shut up. There’s something I need to do.”
    “N-need?” She loved that he stuttered—because she was unsnapping his jeans.
    “Did I ever mention how much I dig a manly man?”
    “Um, no?”
    “That plaid shirt is a definite turn on.”
    He licked his lips as she eased his zipper down. “I’ll, um, never take it off.” He shifted as she splayed the opening she’d created and toyed with the band of his briefs. “Kristi?”
    “Hmm?”
    “What-what are you doing?”
    She eased his underwear down, just a bit. Just until the head of his cock was visible. “What do you think?” A hoarse whisper. Damn, but he was beautiful. She wanted to see all of him. And now.
    She tugged his briefs lower.
    He grabbed her wrist. “Kristi! Christ. Here? On the patio?”
    “Mmm hmm.”
    He probably would have protested a little more, but she dipped her head and drew in his essence. His scent curled through her, musky and male. Her mouth watered. She blew a hot breath along the length of his encased cock and he hissed. Then she dabbed her tongue into the little eye, just a tiny flick, lapping up a beading tear. That slightly salty, eminently   sweet flavor infused her soul, sending swirls of desire dancing through her.  
    He made a harsh sound. “Jesus. Anyone could see.”
    “They’re all upstairs. Besides,” she raised her head to smirk. “This won’t take long.”
    Without further ado, she pulled his briefs all the way down and fisted his cock, measuring the weight of it, his girth, in her palm. So firm. So bold. So damned insistent.
    She couldn’t wait. Not a