Page 73 of Second-Rate Superstar

“Funny thing is, I don’t think you are.”

Pulling back slightly, I pursed my lips into a pout. “So sorry.”

Rolling his eyes with a smile on his face, the space I put between us allowed him to scan down the length of my body, and a groan sounded from deep within his chest. “Goddamn, Firefly. What in the world are you wearing?”

Shrugging, I stepped back for full effect. The only thing I wore was the oversized Comets hoodie he’d bought me the first time we went to the rink. It hit me mid-thigh, so my bare legs and feet were visible.

“Wasn’t expecting company.” I shrugged.

Taking a few more backward steps, I turned so he could get a good look at his last name and number splayed across my back. From what I understood, that was how players claimed their women. Judging from the curse Braxton uttered under his breath while clutching the doorframe so hard his knuckles turned white, I’d say I hit the mark.

Peeking over my shoulder, I called back, “You’re letting in a draft.”

That jolted him from his perch on the doorstep, and he stumbled inside the house, closing the door in a daze. His eyes flared as they watched me recline on the couch, stretching my bare legs over the cushions.

Dragging a hand across the dark stubble along his jaw, Braxton blinked a few times, likely wondering if this was real.

Toeing the cushion opposite my seat, I gave him a sultry—or at least, I hoped it was—smile. “You coming?”

A strategic choice of words given my lack of clothing, and it did the trick. Eating up the space between us in three long strides, his hands found my face, his mouth descending on mine, saying everything he was feeling without words. I moaned as his tongue demanded entry, opening for him and allowing him to dominate the desperate kiss.

My pulse pounded between my legs, but I wasn’t done teasing him yet. What was it they said about anticipation? That it only heightened the pleasure? I was about to test that theory tonight, and my results would be skewed if I gave in too quickly.

Taking both hands, I shoved at Braxton’s chest, and like the gentleman he was, he pulled back enough that our ragged breathing mingled, the sound filling the air.

“You said we were gonna watch the game.” My voice was breathy.

“Fuck the game,” he growled back.

“My house, my rules.” I shoved at his chest again, harder this time, and he drew back. Tapping my toe for emphasis, I said, “Your seat is over there.”

Raking a hand through his dark tresses, he took the offered seat.

I began pulling my legs back to my side, but he snaked out a hand, circling my ankle and dragging me into a reclined position, my feet in his lap. I raised an eyebrow in question, to which his response was to dig his thumb into the arch of my foot. He hit the pressure point just right, and a moan escaped before I could stop it, my back arching.

His eyes remained locked on my feet, but I caught the way a corner of his lips quirked up. “Watch your game. Since it’s so important to you.”

Oh, he’s good.

I might have started this little game, but I should’ve known he was a competitor and wouldn’t surrender so easily.

Giving myself over to the ministrations of his magic fingers, I relaxed into the couch, nearly boneless by the time the second intermission rolled around on the screen. I had played by the rules, watching the game, but with a break in the action, it was time to make my move.

Skin still tingling from his touch, I ran the curved sole of my foot along the bulge beneath it, barely concealed in his gray sweatpants. I could feel the heat of him through the thick material.

Braxton’s hiss reached my ears, and he gripped my foot, halting its movement. “Careful, Firefly.”

Wrenching my foot from his grasp—carefully; we didn’t need an accidental kick to the groin—I climbed onto his lap. The hoodie rode up my thighs as I straddled him, and his searing hot palms rested just below the hem. The rough pads of his fingertips teased the skin of my inner thighs, and instinctively, my hips rocked, seeking any sort of friction. This might be new to me, but it would seem my body knew what to do. This was, after all, a dance humans had been doing since the beginning of time.

Having a good eight inches on me, being seated on Braxton’s lap had us at eye level. And damn, if he didn’t have the most beautiful eyes. They sparkled gold as he peered back at me, the pupils expanding as rapidly as the hard length growing between my spread thighs.

I sank my teeth into my lower lip, stifling a moan when his erection nudged against my aching clit. Instant regret hit me that I had declined to take the edge off earlier when I was alone. But I’d figured getting myself offto the image of this gorgeous man couldn’t compare to the real thing. It didn’t matter that I was probably right, because I needed relief. Now.

Anchoring my hands on his shoulders, I rocked over Braxton’s lap, causing him to throw back his head, eyes closed, as a guttural groan slipped past his parted lips. I was testing the limits of his restraint, but I was more than ready to unleash the animal lurking beneath the surface.

Forcing himself to look at me, he reached a hand up, his thumb tugging on the lip I held so firmly between my teeth that I began to taste blood. He didn’t use words, pleading with me with his eyes to relinquish my hold. Slowly, I released that lower lip, wincing at the sting, but Braxton was quick to soothe the hurt with soft strokes of his thumb.

“Tell me what you want.” His voice was husky, and it shot a bolt of lust straight to my throbbing core.

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