Text Me, Maybe
by Jolyse Barnett
Publication Date: August 8, 2016
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Lovestruck, Romance
Synopsis: New to the Big Apple, the last thing Lexie Bloom needs is to fall for two guys at once. Especially when she can’t have either. One is her personal trainer, an Adonis way out of her league. The other? A Brit Lit professor her svelte boss insists she woo for her—via text message, no less. Little does she know, the two are the same man…
Matthew Hennessey is intrigued by his shy new client at the gym. But before he gets the chance to ask her out, he discovers she’s the one crafting the flirty texts sent to him by a woman who wouldn’t know Lord Byron from Lady Gaga. To get to know her better, he allows Lexie to play her role. She may have given up on the idea of romance, but Matthew’s bound and determined to show her love is alive and well in New York City.
Playlist of songs that inspired me while writing Text Me, Maybe
Gonna by Blake Shelton HYPERLINK “https://youtu.be/iUgQLz5y7QI?list=PLLDVfSPfze0vtrXWhaNmCuEwc4iF6LEIM” https://youtu.be/iUgQLz5y7QI?list=PLLDVfSPfze0vtrXWhaNmCuEwc4iF6LEIM
Lexie sat up and unfolded her legs, then leaned back, her arms braced behind her. Mighty, dark-haired Thor was her trainer for three more weeks. Whatever relationship they had would end with her last session. “I’ll call that last one the hot pretzel,” she said, and stood when he did.
He laughed, towering over her. “You hungry?”
Uh, yeah. For you. The air stalled in her lungs. No. Just say no.
“Okay then, for the next exercise, we’ll start with legs waist-width apart.”
She widened her stance, hands on hips.
Matthew glanced at her and leaned close to nudge her right foot out a few inches. “Keep breathing.”
She tingled with awareness. “Hot.”
He slid his hands along the outside of her arms, and a jolt shot through her shoulders and landed in her belly. Whoa. She forced the air out then happily breathed him in. “Relax. Let your arms drop by your side.” He lifted his muscular arms above his head on an inhale and returned to his starting position on the exhale. “Now, do it with me.”
I’d love to. You look like lily pond royalty, but how do I know for sure?
“Bring your arms down to your sides. Nice, controlled movement. Excellent. Nine more times.” He backed up. “Keep going. Nice.” He perched on the edge of the bench, his gaze intent. After the tenth, temperature-raising rep, he grinned. “Very, very nice warm-up.”
“Okay. Didn’t strike me as anything spectacular, but thanks.” Lexie turned to grab her water bottle, stopping when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She whipped around, towel clutched to her chest. “Why didn’t you say something? I look like a freaking wet T-shirt contest girl! You just let me keep going, watching the whole time, and couldn’t clue me in?”
“Sorry, didn’t notice.” He lifted his water bottle, his throat working as he took a long, deep drink.
“Like hell you are, and like hell you didn’t,” she retorted, struggling to hold on to her anger in the face of his steady, kind gaze. She tossed the towel onto the mat. “Don’t think I’m not into, I mean, onto you.”
Oh God, I could just die. Did I really just say that? It’s not a Freudian slip. It’s not. It can’t be.
“No worries. I won’t.”
The catch in his voice had her turning toward him, melting any lingering anger and frustration.
Why am I going all crazy-girl on him again? I knew I’d get sweaty. Hot yoga. Duh.
She moved toward him, heedless of the consequences, his eyes inviting her in.
Inches from the man she feared could hurt her a thousand times worse than any of the guys she’d ever liked before, a startling realization punched her square in the face. She’d been so wrong about a phrase she’d openly mocked in a lit class discussion about romantic prose.
Weak with desire really was a thing. Because if Matthew chose that moment to kiss her— Crap, if he wanted to roll her onto her back right there on the textured mat—she couldn’t guarantee she’d have an ounce of willpower to deny him.
“Stop.” Lexie swatted at him. “I’ll never get this door open.” Matthew ignored her command and continued to run wet, tantalizing kisses along the sensitive slope of her neck. She tried to concentrate, but she fumbled with the key in the lock and cursed when he added hands to the sweet distraction— kneading her shoulders with deep, pulsing strokes. “I’ll fall through the trapdoor in the floor, like Elphaba,” she warned. But he still didn’t listen. Finally, she managed to unlatch the deadbolt. Whipping around to face him, she smiled. “I’m getting you back now, you cruel, cruel man.”
But he was up to the task, his mouth searing her lips and tongue, his questing hands bringing her to flames as they caressed and stroked and teased.
Kneading her through her top.
Under her top.
“Inside,” she breathed, heated and wiggling in response to his eager assault, her only conscious thought the need to get her hazel-eyed god into her lair. She reached behind her back, feeling for that elusive doorknob.
“Soon, baby. Let me—”
The door flew open with their weight, and—eep!—she fell backward into the apartment, his mouth slipping from hers while a hand still wrapped over her breast.
But his Mighty Thor strength halted her rapid descent and reversed their direction, returning them upright and back to safety.
“Oh.” He chuckled. “This inside.” Then a moment later. “Where were we?”
She reached for his shirt. “Right here.”
“Ah, Lexie…” He groaned, closing the distance between them, lifting her flush against him, one hand on the back of her head, the other around her waist. “You have no idea. Touching you is all I’ve thought about for three weeks. It was all I could do to keep my hands off you, waiting, hoping you’d want me, too.” His eyes searched hers. “I intend to make this the best night of your life, because you’ve already made it mine.”
How could this be?
But then he was kissing her, running his hands up and down her rib cage, grinning at her before slipping his head under her top to pleasure her breasts through the silk of her bra, rolling and tweaking her nipples.
Molten pleasure shot throughout her middle, and she panted, rubbing up against him, eager to get closer. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
He lifted his head and nuzzled her neck. “Where’s your bed?”
I thought you’d never ask.
“Here.” She stumbled back, then turned, throwing cushions and jerking the mattress up and out while he pushed the coffee table out of the way.
“Mad skills,” he acknowledged, dropping onto the bed with her.
“A record.” She lifted a leg over his hips and slid over and up, onto the tops of his thighs to straddle him.
Ready to ride.
“You like the power seat, huh?”
His tone was light, but his eyes shone with an intensity that made her want a closer look.
His gaze fell to her mouth as he grazed a work-roughened thumb across her bottom lip. “I’ve waited so long, eons before we met.”
“You are a poet,” she whispered, her heart filled with awe.
His eyes hooded, he rolled her over, pinning her beneath his delicious length, and she surrendered to his kiss, grabbing his hair and locking him to her. Then she gave it all back and more, her mouth moving against his, telling him all she wanted him to do with her tongue. “I want you so much,” she breathed against his mouth, tilting her hips up.
I want more.
He lifted his weight off her.
Racy thoughts of him sliding and sinking inside her, deep and full, punctuated by the real-time yank of his belt and rasp of his zipper somewhere in the darkness beside her bed had her jumping up in an impromptu competition to dress the floor with her clothes, too. She’d wiggled out of her boots and jeans when she glimpsed him stealing around behind the sofa bed. “What’re you doing?”
With a soft whooshing sound, the curtains parted, and the glow of streetlights shone across the room in pale, revealing stripes.
“Oh, I see.” She grinned, unable to take her eyes off his frame—lip-smackingly nude except for his sexy silk boxers in black. “Going camping?”
“Lot of tent raising in recent weeks, and all because of you,” he mused. He moved toward her and lifted a hand as if to caress her face, but then stopped. “Maybe that’s why.”
He scrubbed his jaw and sank onto the bed. “There’s something important I have to tell you.”
Uh, no. He didn’t. She just wanted this moment. “Are you married? Living with someone?”
“No!” She sank onto the bed beside him. “Gay?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I were.”
“Then whatever it is can wait. I’ve wanted you for three long weeks, too, and I refuse to wait any longer.” She ran a hand along his bare thigh.
“You’re too much, Lexie Bloom.” Turning toward her, he laughed softly and pushed her gently onto her back.
She bit back a moan of pleasure when he slid up and over her, straddling her like she’d done him, her system on happiness overload as he leaned forward, his length pressed intimately against her abdomen.
He fondled her through the silk of her bra, caressing and rubbing, then, as if unwrapping a gift meant just for him, he lifted her breasts from their confines. “So beautiful,” he rasped. Dipping his head, he took one breast in his mouth, his tongue laving and circling, his lips pulling and sucking, his hands squeezing and molding. He went from one to the other, as if he couldn’t get enough of either.
Take me there.
Like he had begun to before.
Like she wanted him to now.
ABOUT JOLYSE BARNETT
Jolyse Barnett is a country girl living her happily-ever-after in suburbia with her real-life, hunky hero, two offspring aptly nicknamed Thing One and Thing Two, and a cuddly cat that sleeps 23-7. When she’s not tapping away at the keyboard or with her nose in a book, Jolyse can usually be found in her backyard dreaming about tropical escapes.