Book Extract: Reluctant Romance – Guys and Girls

Reluctant Romance: Guys and Girls“Oooh, they’re singing the national anthem—not long till kick off now.” I snuggle back into the sofa, tucking my legs up behind me, and lean my head on the shoulder of my enemy.

“Oh, yes?” he questions, lifting my chin.

“Oh, come on. I always watch the telly like this—are you telling me you don’t want me pressing my soft flesh up against you?”

I grin and press my heavy breasts against his arm with an exaggerated sexy movement.

“Oh okay, stay there then.” He rolls his eyes and grins.

“Thank you, oooh they’re kicking off.”

Silence falls as we both transport to opposite sides of Wembley stadium.  He “ooh’s” in excitement as I “ahh” in fright. He leans forward as I cringe into his arm and he turns his head from me as I hiss “yes!” and shoot him a “I told you so” kind of smile.

As the tempo slows and the game hits a lull, he wraps his arm around me and plants a kiss on the top of my head. I snuggle back and grin up at him.

“I feel like I’m sleeping with the enemy.”

“Well, it’s not been that exciting of a game so far, but I’m not snoring yet.”

“Oh, okay smartarse. I feel like I’m fucking the enemy, then.”

“Am I the enemy?” he asks, kind of seriously.

“Well, yes.”

“Oh, well in that case you’re not fucking the enemy ‘cos I’d know about it if you were, but I just want to say I’m not opposed to the idea.”

“Slut.” I laugh, kissing his cheek, one eye on the screen.

“No, my dear. That would be you.”

“Bastard.” I slap out at him but he captures my wrist in his hand and plants a hot, heavy kiss on my lips.

“Now, now. You’re going to get it if you’re not careful.”

”Get what?” I reply, using my other hand to slip down over his jean clad thigh, to skim over the delights held within.

“A Yellow card,” he whispers hoarsely. “I keep it in my pants.”

“Well go on then, get it out,” I taunt, tugging on his zip.  “Do you really want it? It might turn into a red one if you keep taunting me.”

“Mmm, I do hope so.” I pop open his button and stroke a finger down over his boxers and I’m delighted to find a stirring of arousal.

“You wicked girl.” He groans as I slip him out of his boxers and slide down on to my knees between his thighs, oblivious now to the television (but only because it’s half-time) as I gently stroke his cock, enticing it from its dark cave.

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