Adrenaline: An Ode to Love and Heartbreak Read Online Free PDF Page B

I suspect is an attempt at suffocating me.
    Ingela is growling. “Don’t. Tell. Him.” Really? She hooks my leg in a scissor lock with both of hers, and I let her tumble me on top of her. Hey, I have no complaints. I was born to be in this position.
    “Make. Him. Leave,” she whispers through the fabric. Nice. Inga wants to be anonymous—this is so funny.
    “What’s she saying?” Dan scratches his beard and his ass simultaneously. He’s up and about to dive into the shower. Those old-man underwear with the striped pajamas button-up is his favorite combo. Inga’d have some choice words describing exactly the look. Dude’s so much better off not “meeting” her in this state.
    “Don’t tell him,” she hisses, being all girl-bossy. I love sleeping with her, love snuggling with her in my bed, and I love teasing the hell out of her. The Swede’s damn near perfect. We should have done this a long time ago, and oh, there will be repeats.
    I whisper in against her ear. “Guess what, anonymous girl?”
    She puffs out a “wha?” There’s no way she’s got enough oxygen in there to be comfortable.
    “She’s mortified that she fell for my charms,” I say loudly to Dan so she can hear me too. “She’s getting ready for the walk of shame and wants you out of her way.”
    Ingela’s roaring beneath the covers—I suspect it means she’s finally angry—and Dan swings around to look at me. He rocks his melon in slow denial. “Dude. You’re incredible. Did you seriously just say that? I’ll let you two hash things out.”
    Dan’s about four years older than me. Skipped out on school during a couple of semesters of great snowboarding seasons and is behind on whatever his math thingy is here. Mathematician. Can’t picture him doing that. He’s better with the girls than I am, but in the years I’ve known him, he’s never been in a relationship. It’s an extreme-sport thing, though, even for my mate-inclined buds. It’d be pretty mean to have a girlfriend when you can die at any moment.
    As he slams the door shut to the bathroom—a sign to Ingela that she can come out—my prize pops out from underneath the covers and slugs me so hard in the back I lose my breath.
    “What in the world was that, you freaking dick-shit.”
    I can’t speak yet, but I manage to mouth the real expression. She’s got both Arriane and me trained to help her out with the English language. “ Dipshit .”
    I squint in the full-length mirror on the wall. Yep, I’ve got an Ingela-shaped hand-slug in a pinkish-red color on my back.
    “Ever considered underground fighting for money? Pretty sure you could quit Smother and get rich,” I say while I rub the sore spot on my back. I grab a pair of briefs from the fresh laundry heap I haven’t folded and put them on. Reindeer. She’ll be impressed.
    Ingela’s sitting in the midst of my sheets. They’re swirled around her as if she’s fought herself free of them. A few of her ribs show in a soft contour against that smooth skin, and I get an unobstructed view of her gorgeous little tits in full daylight. Those small nipples are a light tan color—it’s like she’s been lying out, topless. I lick my lips, recalling their texture.
    My dick’s coming to life.
    She heaves up on her hands and knees like a cat and prowls over to the end of the bed, seduction blazing from icicle-blue eyes. I freeze, watching. Thinking of how we’ll pull this off. Dan’ll be out of the shower soon. I can yell for him to go somewhere else while we finish this second round of business. Dude’s a good friend. He’ll leave.
    She’s so freaking hot. Look at her, all naked and prowling toward me… I take a step in her direction, enthralled. She’s on her feet, now, swaying her hips on her way toward me.
    “Vixen,” I murmur.
    “Making tents, there, honey?” she purrs, eyeing my shorts. Then, she’s into me, all smooth and delicious. She rubs against me, causing me to groan, and my dick finds its