Page 71 of Game Changer

“The Kodiaks’ all-star is going to have a concussion, and it’ll be my fault,” I say.

He grins as he drags the top down my arms and tosses it behind him. “Worth it.”

Clay’s attention burns a hot trail from my face down my body, lingering on my breasts before returning. His eyes are dark with intent and approval.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says.

The way his gaze runs over me is like I’m in the Victoria Secret fashion show with wings sticking out from my back.

My nipples grow hard as his fingers tease along my ribs before cupping the swells of my breasts.

I arch my back, pressing myself into his touch.

He’s already shirtless, and my fingers run over the smooth expanse of his skin, the expanse covered in tattoos. He’s living art. I could look at him every day and never get enough.

I run my fingers over the ridges of his chest and abdomen. “You use these muscles for… cutting? Guarding?” I try to remember the words Brooke told me at the game.

His lips twitch, but he pushes me onto my back, pinning my wrists above my head.

“I’ve never hooked up with someone who didn’t care I’m a basketball player,” he says. “I like it.”

My gaze snaps to his to find Clay’s warm eyes full of appreciation.

“I’m gonna show you how much.”

His body is wide, muscular, a living sculpture carved from stone. The stark ridges of his abs run to either side of his navel and disappear into the waistband of his shorts.

When my attention continues downward, I swallow a gasp.

His erection is a huge, thick outline under his shorts.

It can’t be that big.

There’s no actual way he carries that around all day, not to mention that it would fit inside me.

I feel like I should have heavy equipment training to even touch what’s between us.

He rolls to his side to graze my collarbone with kisses. I moan as he skims over my breasts and then circles my nipples with the tip of his tongue. His hands are huge, but they’re gentle.

He works his way down my body, pausing over my navel to blow on it softly, making me laugh out loud. I’m still wet from the lake, but he makes sure every inch of my skin is warm and covered in his touch.

We don’t fit in this bed. He doesn’t seem concerned.

His fingers hook into the sides of my bikini bottoms. His warm hands press into the flesh of my hips, reaching around to the small of my lower back to tug me forward.

The heat from his palms burns through the fabric of my bathing suit.

He nudges at my thighs until they part, and he slips between them, his hard body against mine.

He presses a kiss to my temple, holding himself there briefly before moving down toward my mouth.

His breath is on my skin when, finally, he speaks again.

“I almost kept you underwater. But I want to find out if you taste as sweet as you look. I remember thinking with your pink hair, you’d taste like cotton candy.”

Holy.

Every thought evaporates. All that’s left is a throbbing need.

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