Page 61 of Play the Last Track
Katie likes to avoid things. She doesn’t want to talk about the hard stuff when it comes to her own life, but will immediately throw it back on others.Thought I would smash it out so I can take tomorrow off and come to the game.She thinks throwing it back to me and the game will distract me from the real reason she was hanging around here so late at night. I damn well know it wasn’t paperwork.
I look down at her. She’s nestled against me, her nose buried into the fabric of my hoodie, and her eyes are closed. There’s a soft smile on her lips, and it makes my heart ache. So I let it go. I’ll wait forher to be ready to give me the real reason she’s hiding away in her bar after hours.
Instead, I find the top of her jeans and slip my freezing cold hands down the back of them, squeezing her ass and making her squeal.
“Oh my god!” She jumps in my arms and tries to squirm out of my grip, but I hold her steady. “Get your hands off me! Why are they so cold?”
“You made me come all the way out here,” I say, stepping forward and forcing her to step backward with me. I keep a tight grip on her ass, and truly, my hands are starting to warm back up now that they’re on her body. “In the snow and the cold.”
“I’m sorry. You didn’t have to.” She laughs, moving with me easily. She presses a hand into my chest and tries to separate us, but I keep hold.
“You had me worried you’d been hurt, or taken, or something.” I shake my head at her laughing face.
“What was the plan if I had been? You were going to channel Liam Neeson and go all spy on their ass?”
I smirk when her back hits the bartop, and she helps when I easily lift her onto it. My hands slide out of her jeans and over her hips. “I might have. I wasn’t sure what I was walking into.”
Her face softens, and she runs her fingers through my hair, leaning down to press a kiss on my lips. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
“Promise to text if you plan on staying late again?”
Her brows furrow a little. “Really? Gra—No one used to care when I stayed late.”
“I’m not your shitty ex-boyfriend.”
“No, you’re my devotedfakeboyfriend.” She laughs again, and my stomach clenches at the wordfake, but I ignore it.
“Promise me, Katie.” I lean back, catching her gaze. She stares for a moment before she nods. “Say it.”
“I promise,” she says easily, using a finger to draw a cross over her heart. She leans forward and kisses me again. It starts so gentle and calm, almost as if it’s her way of an apology. Then, she swipes her tongue across my bottom lip before gently biting down, sucking it between her teeth. I groan, massaging my fingers into her hips, over the fabric of her jeans. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she pulls me closer.
Her legs hook around my waist, her mouth devours mine, and I sink my hands into her hair, undoing her ponytail and letting the curls fall down her back. I’m definitely not cold anymore. She pulls back, her breathing heavy, her lips swollen. Her eyes are alight with lust. I know she can feel my hardening cock through the gray sweatpants I wear. As if she knows what I’m thinking, her eyes flicker down. Her hand curls over my shoulder, trailing down the front of my hoodie, over my heaving chest, and to the waistband of my sweatpants. I watch as her red nails play with the fabric for a moment before they disappear, her warm hand gliding down my groin. Then, her fingers wrap around my cock and squeeze.
“Uh, fuck,” I groan, dropping my head to her shoulder as she gently pumps me in her hand. As much as I would love to fuck her, right here and right now, I can’t help but catch a glimpse at the clock behind the bar. It’s almost two in the morning.
“One day,” I say, kissing her neck and then her jawline. “I’m going to take you on this bartop.” Her hand squeezes me again, and I suck in a breath. I tangle her hair around my fingers and tug, angling her face upwards a little so I can trace a path with mytongue down her neck. “It’s going to be so hard, and so rough, that you won’t be able to serve anyone without thinking about me and my cock.”
She whimpers, her steady rhythm breaking as I bite down gently on her neck. I suck at the spot and release my grip on her hair. Immediately, she kisses me, her hips rolling, seeking some sort of friction.
“And, you’re going to love it,” I murmur against her lips before kissing her hard again. When I pull back, I gently remove her hand from my pants and smooth her hair down a little. “But, it’s two a.m. and I have a game tomorrow. Let’s go home.”
“Can we fuck at home?” Her words are pleading and desperate. Fuck, I just know she’s soaked through her panties and maybe even her jeans. I hold myself back from checking. I know if she is, I won’t be able to contain myself, and I might actually rip her jeans off and fuck her right now.
But I can’t. I have a game in the morning, the snow is finally letting up, and we need to get some sleep.
“Please?” she begs, almost knowing that my answer should have, would have, been no. As always, though, I cave. When she hops off the bar, looking mighty pleased with herself, I swat her ass.
“You’re a brat,” I grumble.
“You like me this way.”
Fuck yeah, I do.
***
“Flynn Reed, tight end for the Boston Broncos, is here with us now.” The reporter looks directly into the camera, the microphoneheld up to her face as she speaks in a high-pitched tone. “Flynn, hell of a game for you and the Broncos. Seven touchdowns. You were on fire today.”
“Thanks, Ash.” I smile tightly. I was on fire but running on empty.
