Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I have some idea.” She looked back into his eyes. “But I think it was the jeans that did it to you on Thursday. I look fantastic in those jeans.”
He chuckled. He had to admit that her confidence made him crazy—and made him want to tie her to his bed for about a week.
“The jeans were awesome,” he agreed, “but…” Did he dare admit this to her? Or to himself?
If she was fishing for compliment, or proof that he wasn’t as in control of his reactions to her as he let on, she had him hook, line and sinker.
“But?” she asked.
“But it doesn’t explain why I got hard when I looked over at you sitting in the booth with your sisters and all you were doing was listening to something Isabelle was saying. You were completely quiet, squeezed into the booth on the other side of Olivia—no spotlight, no line of guys waiting to dance with you, no line of shot glasses in front of you at the bar as you won another twenty bucks off some guy who thought he could out drink you. It was only you and your sisters and you had this soft little smile on your lips and you were stirring a straw around in a glass of ginger ale.”
The look on her face now was beyond amazed. It bordered on incredulous. “How—” She had to stop and clear her throat. “How do you know it was ginger ale?”
“I’ve been paying attention,” he told her, now fine with her knowing that. “You always drink ginger ale after you do tequila shots.” He ran his hand through her hair again, loving the feel of the soft strands shifting between his fingers. “Why is that?”
She tipped her head back slightly as his fingers caressed her skull. “The tequila upsets my stomach when I have a lot.”
“Maybe you should stop drinking before it gets to that point.”
She closed her eyes and moaned as he deepened the scalp massage. “I never back down from a challenge.”
Right. That was her M.O. Nate frowned. Was that all this was between them? He was pushing her and she was pushing right back?
“Besides, I needed the twenty bucks to pay Olivia back.”
He stopped rubbing and lifted her head back upright. She blinked her eyes open and he waited until she focused on him. “There’s no money riding on our challenge here. The one where you let me take charge of you for a week. You sure you’re motivated?”
“I’m very aware of which challenge you’re referring to,” she said, the sass back in her voice. “And there’s something better than money at stake here.”
“Oh?” The ability to add him to the notches in her bedpost? Nate was suddenly irritated. She didn’t want to blend into the crowd? Neither did he.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” she asked.
He frowned. “The reception after your brother and I made the Hawks.” Cody Madsen and Ryan Kaye had made the team that same season. They’d been the new guys on the team and had been friends ever since.
She nodded. “Conner introduced us.”
He remembered. “I asked if I could buy you a drink and you told me that I should try hitting on a girl who didn’t know that I was the one who missed the tackle that cost us the conference championship my senior year at Iowa.”
She grinned now like she had then. “I figure the foreplay between us started then.”
He narrowed his eyes, remembering that night—and all the sassy comments she’d thrown at him since. “That was three years ago.”
And even then he’d been captivated. Maybe even more by her knowledge of football than by her bright red curve-hugging dress and the red fuck-me heels that went with it.
“That’s a lot of foreplay,” she said, leaning close. “That’s a lot of time for me to wish I could have your hands on me.”
She kissed him, running her tongue over his bottom lip, but not moving inside. She lifted her head. “The chance to finally be in your bed is motivation enough to even put up with you playing dictator, Nate.”
“Then you’re not backing down? Going to prove you can keep up, huh?” he asked, running his hand higher on her thigh, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin she kept bare and smooth.
She gasped. “Yes. Definitely.”
Without warning, without working up to it, he ran his middle finger along her cleft and over her clit.
She was hot and wet and his cock grew harder behind his zipper.
“Yes.” Her head fell forward, her hair swinging in front of her face. “More.”
He lifted his free hand, pulling her hair back. He wanted to see every bit of her expression. “You don’t get this I’m-in-charge thing do you?” he asked, circling her clit.
“I do,” she panted. “I get it.”
“No more bossing me, Emma,” he said, his finger sliding up and down over her slick flesh.
“Right. Got it. No problem.” She slipped her hand between them.
The first contact she made with his aching erection nearly shot him off the bench. And he almost dumped her on the ground.
“Dammit, Emma. No touching me,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Come on, Nate. You don’t want that.” She tried to kiss him.
He avoided her lips and reached up to grasp her chin. “Emma.”
She looked at him, blinking.
“No touching me.”
“Fine.” She didn’t look like it was fine, but she removed her hand from his fly.
Thankfully. He was about to explode as it was. When he did finally get inside her—
Nate shut that train of thought down immediately. He wasn’t going to get inside her. That was the bottom line. He was going to show her that she didn’t want to be involved with him, which would lead to her ending things long before it ever got to the point of him being inside her.
Which meant he should make the most of what he had right now.
He stroked over her clit. “Very good,” he praised, just to rub it in.
She opened her mouth to retort, but he slid his finger into the delicious heat that seemed to instantly pull him deeper.
Her eyes shut and she tipped her head back, pressing against his hand.
Fuck she felt good. He pressed deep and pulled out, pressing in again before she could take a breath, urging more sweet heat from her.
“Eyes open, Em,” he said huskily. “Don’t let on that I’m about to make you come right here and now with all these people around.”
She shivered and her inner muscles clenched around his finger. Her head came up and she forced her eyes open, but her lips were parted with her quick breaths and her hands clenched the skirt of her dress.
“Relax,” he commanded softly. “I’ve got you. Give in.”
She wiggled her butt on his lap. “I’m close, Nate,” she whispered.
“I know.” He pressed his lips to her shoulder, breathing her scent in deeply, and added a second finger, stretching her, gliding along her inner walls, coaxing the ripples that he knew were inevitable.
He thought about all the nights he’d watched her dance and laugh and flirt with other men. All the times he’d heard her yelling from the stands at their games. All the times he’d seen her hug her sisters or tease her brother. She was gorgeous and sexy and yes, the jeans and the tank tops and the short skirts made him want to touch. But it was her smile when she was talking with her sisters, her laugh when she was playing her brother in pool—the moments when she didn’t have to work to be the center of attention, the times when she didn’t know anyone was watching—when she was in the moment, versus creating the moment, that made him want to drive her right over the edge.
He wanted to taste her. He wanted that delicious wetness all over his cock. He wanted her spread out on his bed where he could watch every inch of him disappear into her over and over. He wanted her screaming with pleasure. Screaming his name.
Damn, he wasn’t going to sleep well tonight either.
She lifted a hand to her breast and squeezed her eyes shut again.
This time he let it go because he felt the beginning tremors. And frankly he didn’t care if everyone in that park—in the city—knew he’d brought her to climax right here on this bench.
He flicked the pad of his thumb over her clit while pressing his fingers deep and she bucked against his hand twice and then her orgasm took over. Her muscles clamped down, her whole body shuddered, and she made a soft squeaking sound while trying to be quiet that he found adorable.
And when had he ever thought a woman’s orgasm was adorable?
He was screwed.
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