Page 63 of Resisting the Running Back

We take an Uber back to the hotel with the garments in hand. Asher had a button-down black shirt and gray slacks for me to borrow. Admittedly, the pants are a little tight around my thighs, but so long as I don’t try to bust a move on the dance floor, it should be fine.

I’m not sure what Desi lent Sophie since it’s in a garment bag, but I have a feeling it’ll be hot as fuck on Sophie no matter what it is.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep my paws to myself when I just want to get her naked, but we do have show tickets in an hour, so we don’t have a ton of time to kill. We get back to our hotel, and she locks herself in the bathroom with her makeup bag and a curling iron as I change clothes. I’m ready in about twenty-three seconds while she takes over half an hour to get ready.

When she steps out of the bathroom, it was well worth the wait.

She’s wearing a black and gold metallic long-sleeve short dress with a deep V-neck down the front that’s cut so low I’mgoing to have my eyes on her tits all night to see whether they’re spilling out of her dress or not. She has black heels on that give her five inches of height, and she’s still a couple inches shorter than me, but fuck if I don’t want those legs wrapped around me with those heels on while I slam into her.

Her makeup is dark and edgy for a night out, and her hair is pulled back into a dramatic ponytail with long curls cascading down.

How the hell am I supposed to keep it in my pants when she looks like that?

Fuck, man.

“Wow, Soph,” I breathe, finally able to make my mouth work. “You look gorgeous.” I want to walk across the room and pull her into my arms, but I’m not sure we’re there. We’re fucking, and we’re getting married, but the act of pulling her into my arms while I drool over how beautiful she is feels more intimate than the level we’re at.

It makes no sense.

She shakes her head back and forth, playfully swinging her ponytail behind her, and she winks at me. “You look pretty handsome yourself, Mr. Banks.”

I glance at my watch. “You ready? And can you walk in those shoes?”

She laughs. “Get me enough vodka, and my feet will numb to any feeling.”

We head down the hallway, and she links her arm through mine to hold onto me for balance. I smell her fresh, fruity, summer garden scent just as I feel her tit brush against my arm, and my already hard cock takes notice as an ache pings through my entire system.

I press the button to call the elevator, and she doesn’t move from my side where she’s still clutching my arm. I lean down and press a kiss to her temple because I need my mouthsomewhere on her, and she glances up at me. She catches my lips with hers, and my chest seems to light up with anticipation for this night.

It’s like we’re on a date. It’s like we leapt over a few levels of dating straight toward the aisle, and I’m so goddamn confused about where we are and what we are while I’m trying to just live in the moment and get the fuck out of my head.

I’m not aget out of my headkind of guy, though. I’m analytical, and so I’ll analyze the fuck out of any situation. It’s one of the things I share in common with my half-brother Spencer. Well, that and the fact that I’m an adult who enjoys building Lego sets, though I have nowhere near the collection Spencer and Grace do, and I tend to donate my sets after I build them.

We arrive at the theater where our show is, and we swing by the bar first. The lady asked for vodka to numb her feet, and she orders a Moscow mule. I get a Jack and Coke, and then we head inside the theater.

We’re seated on the second level right in the middle of a row, and as the theater lights go down, I reach over and set a hand on Sophie’s thigh. She shivers as she leans into me a little, and I glance over at her.

“Are you cold?”

“A little chilly,” she admits, and she holds up the ice-cold drink in her hand. I take it and set it in the cup holder, and then I set my hand back on her thigh—just a little higher this time, and I try to cover more of her exposed leg with my hand to give her warmth.

She wraps her arms around my arm and pulls it into her chest, and I feel her tits brush against me again. I chug down my Jack and Coke. I can’t sit beside her with all this heat flying between us and not fucking do something about it.

It’s dark up on our level. Nobody would see if I slipped my hand beneath her dress…would they?

Nobody’s watching us. All eyes are focused ahead on the stage as the show begins. It’s one of the Cirque du Soleil shows, a contemporary visual arts circus with dancing and acrobatics, and it’s somehow also sexy as we watch a woman pining for her man through the art of dance.

But how the hell am I supposed to pay attention when all I can focus on is how Sophie smells beside me? How she feels against my arm as she clutches it to her chest? How much I want to rip that hot-as-fuck dress from her body, pull her on top of my dick, and fuck her until neither one of us can see straight?

I inch my palm up a little more along her thigh, and I glance over at her. She’s watching the show intently. I should be, too.

There will be time later for the things I want to do to her.

She glances over at me and offers a warm smile, and I let out a small breath.

Later, Banks. Pull yourself together.

I manage to sit through the show without moving my hand, but it’s all I can think about. It’s a pure obsession with the woman beside me, and I know how dangerous this is.

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