Page 25 of Game Day

And I tickle.

"NOOOO!" she shrieks.

In this moment, I’m grateful to Kat, who told me eyes don’t get stuck in the back of your head no matter how hard you roll them.

"Tell me."

Again, she twists in my arms, screeching. "I won't, that would ruin it!"

Doesn't she know nothing in this world could ruin the sight of her walking toward me about to become my wife?

Not if she was naked.

Or in my jersey.

Both of which have starred in my fantasies.

"Stop it!" she pants through her desperate laughter. She arches,her muscles flexing and exposing her soft throat.

I feel victory looming on the horizon. Ibend toward her andkiss a trail down her smooth skin, frowning when I taste a hit of sugar. "You taste… sweet.”

She flushes, the color painting her skin almost as pink as her hair. “Brooke, Mari, and I were celebrating when your parents came over. The champagne exploded on me and I was a total mess and rushed to change.” Her voice creeps higher with every syllable, as though she’s confessing to a crime. “There's half a bottle still open in the kitchen."

I'm so close to getting the information I want. She's about to wave the white flag.

Except…

She wanted to celebrate with her girls and didn't get to. Today was supposed to be her time.

"Come on." I lead the way to the kitchen. When we get there, I lift her to perch on the edge of the dining table. She eyes me with one brow arched. I tug up her shirt to expose more sweet skin that I run my lips over. "We didn't have dessert."

Nova shivers, her blue eyes widening with anticipation and surprise.

She’s beautiful. More than that, she’s cheerful and bright like a rainbow no matter what’s happening around her. I’m in awe of her. I won’t let anything put out her smile.

I retrieve the bottle, plus a clean champagne flute.

When I return and she sees what's in my hands, her eyes widen. I set the bottle and flute on the table.

“What’s that for?” she asks.

I pour the glass, then hold it out to her."You.”

Her eyes soften as she takes a sip. "It's better from the glass," she decides with a contended sigh.

"You’re wrong about that."

I shoot her a wicked look before I grab the hem of her shirt and strip it off over her head in a single motion. Under it, she's wearing a pink lace bra, her nipples peeking through the fabric.

I take the glass back and tip it over her exposed stomach. A river runs into her navel, making her gasp.

"Clay—!"

I bend over her and press my mouth to her stomach, sucking out the champagne. The taste is sweetness mixed with her, and I want to compare that flavor to every other inch of her.

She bites her lip, face flushed as she watches.

“Don’t move,” I command as I drag her jeans down her hips.The scrap of lace remaining matches her bra and makes me a new kind of feral.

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