Page 73 of First Star I See Tonight (Chicago Stars 8)

Another whap. And then his hand stalled. His palm curled around the sting. Lingered. Rubbed.

“Cooper Graham! You are feeling me up.”

“I’m sure I’m not.” His hand slid between her legs, cupping her through the denim, and his voice held a husky edge that made her weak with lust. First she’d engaged in playground behavior, and now she’d let herself be turned on by caveman theatrics. She was hopeless. And, despite all the lectures she’d given herself, she didn’t care. “My mistake,” she said, her voice as raspy as his.

He slipped his hand under her Bears jersey and traced his thumb up the bumps of her spine. He stalled at her bra. “You have too many clothes on . . .”

She didn’t know whether he helped her or she levered herself up, but within seconds, she was on his lap, straddling him, her knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of his thighs.

He clasped her waist. She slipped her hands around the back of his neck and gazed into that granite-carved face. “Are we really going to do this?”

His forehead creased. “It seems like it.”

It seemed that way to her, too. “What about your scruples? I’m still the hired help.”

He leaned forward and nibbled on her bottom lip. “You’re not the help. You’re the obstacle.”

She nuzzled the cleft in his chin. “To what?”

“My peace of mind.”

That was something she definitely understood.

He brushed his lips across hers. “What about your scruples?”

“Temporary leave of absence,” she murmured.

He found the corner of her mouth. “I never spanked a woman in my life. Never even thought about it. Damn, it felt good.”

She resisted the urge to rub her tingling bottom. “It didn’t hurt one bit.”

He drew back so that she was looking straight into those tarnished golden-brown eyes. “I’m still furious with you,” he said.

“Understood.” She met his gaze straight on. “If it’s any consolation, I’m even more furious with me.”

Maybe that satisfied him because he brought his lips to her neck. “Promise you won’t fight any more of my men?”

She tilted her head to give him more room. “I promise.” Unless they’re not watching out for you.

He dumped her off his lap. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

She was done for. Hopeless and reckless. She reached for the bottom of his sweater and pulled it over his head.

It didn’t take long before they were both naked and back on the couch. Even a short interruption while he protected them didn’t dampen her desire. She wanted this—wanted dirty, no-holds-barred sex with this man. And maybe, maybe, she wanted to make him lose control the same way he’d done last time.

But he wasn’t playing her game. “Keep your hands to yourself, lady,” he said as she reached for him.

“You, too,” she replied. “No. Wait. You can put your hands anywhere you like.”

And he did.

She straddled him, the position opening her to the intimate abrasion of his fingers. His eyes were darker now, burnished with desire, but their gazes were no longer locked. That was an intimacy neither of them wanted.

She lowered her mouth to his, delivering a deep kiss, a kiss that began to feel as if it held too much of her. A hand tunneled into her hair, keeping her there. Mouths, teeth, tongues merged and battled. She lowered her hand to clasp him, but he was having none of it. He pushed her back into the cushions and pressed open her thighs. He gazed at all he’d exposed, and then claimed what she so willingly offered.

The press of his thumbs into her thighs, the sweet laceration of his mouth, the teasing, the torment . . . And then the abandonment. The cruel, callous, abandonment . . . until he shifted his weight.

This time there was no mistaking that hard thrust—sweetly painful. Her fingers dug into his back, slick now with sweat. The delicious burden of his body pressed down on her. Into her. Deep and deeper still, this tight, powerful breaching.

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