Beauty and the Baller (Strangers in Love #1)(41)
“I never envisioned foreplay with me in a bra,” I complain.
She laughs. “Round six is up.” She throws, and her dart is off center.
I step up and send the dart straight into the middle of the board. Score. I face her, smiling.
She toys with the end of her ponytail. “I’m not taking off my clothes.”
I take a seat on one of the stools. “I need to think on this.”
She sits across from me, cupping her chin in her hands as our gazes cling. I fucking love looking at her, and it isn’t just her beauty. There’s an infectious quality about her smile, a sense of irrepressible joy that surrounds her.
Playing darts with her might be the best time I’ve had in this big house.
“Tell me something about you,” I say. “Something I don’t know. A secret.”
“A secret . . . hmm . . .” There’s a long pause; then, abruptly, she yells and hops around the room.
“What?”
She plops on the floor, yanks her boot off, tosses it away, and then rubs her arch. “Cramp. All that positioning in front of the dartboard . . . maybe the stilettos I wore. It’s been a while since I wore them. I don’t know. Ugh. My calves hurt too.” Her face scrunches in pain.
I bend down and take her foot. “Here, let me.” I press my thumbs into her arch, rotating them with deep pushes. “It hurts at first, but try to relax your leg muscles, okay?”
“Okay.” She winces, little puffs of air coming from her. “Sorry. I ruined the game. I was going to make you dance around in my bra on the next round. Or take the big-screen TV. Mama’s is ten years old . . . ouch! It hurts. Why?” she wails.
“Could be dehydration or the shoes or just about anything.”
“I can’t stop the shoes. I’ll be seeing Andrew!”
“You’d dress for a man who hurt you?”
“I’ll be dressing to make him see what he missed.”
My lips tighten at those words. “Flex your leg again,” I say and massage into her foot, pressing on the top toe, then drawing my hand out to her heel.
Relief crosses her features, a sigh coming from her. “It’s gone. God. Your hands are like magic. Thank you.”
“No problem. I’ve had a million cramps.” I sit down next to her on the floor. Her tank top has ridden up, and I see her stomach. I pull it down just as she does, and our hands meet. Our fingers pause, then lightly lace together. My thumb brushes over the top of her hand. Small circles on soft skin . . . heat ripples over me.
“Tell me your secret,” I murmur, leaning closer to her face.
A slow blush works up her throat. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
A shuddering breath comes from her as she gazes up at me, pupils dilated.
My breath quickens. “Nova . . .”
Her mouth parts. “Ronan . . .”
At the sound of my name on her lips, the desire I’ve been pushing away rushes in like a tsunami. Forget fucking Andrew. Yes, she’s still in love with him, but . . .
Her hand tangles in my hair, cupping my scalp. “What is this . . . ,” she murmurs.
This is crazy. It’s undeniable spark. Desire.
Part of me tells me to stop, to not go down this road, that I’m crossing a dangerous line . . .
I lean down, and she meets me halfway, our breaths mingling as our mouths cling in a desperate kiss. Her lips are pillowy, like satin, and I groan at the lush feel of her. Our lips pull away and go back again, searching for more. I tug on her lower lip with my teeth, and she does the same to me. Our tongues tangle, tasting each other, until we pull away gasping. It’s as if our mouths recognize each other, syncing in an age-old rhythm.
I hover over her, aligning my body with hers as my forearms support me.
“Pull up your shirt,” I breathe out.
She eases it up, exposing her full, creamy tits, and I take a nipple in my mouth and suck. Her areola is a dark pink, and I tease my tongue around it, then nip with my teeth. I move to the next one as my mouth learns the shape of her, the curves, the freckles on her chest, her collarbone. I taste it all. My dick rotates against her shorts, slow and easy, then harder. Her hands slide around my waist and under my pants to my ass, pulling me closer.
Sparks explode when she reaches around to cup my cock through my joggers. I push into her hands, groaning.
“Nova . . . ,” I whisper as I stare down at her. Her sapphire eyes glow with heat, and something inside me pauses, terrified, a war inside my mind.
This is the moment . . .
When I should stop.
But—
And that’s when the office door flies open.
Chapter 10
RONAN
“Ronan!” Lois calls as she and Skeeter barge in my office. “We’ve got to help—oh dear, sorry, um, I didn’t mean to interrupt your . . .” Her eyes widen at the bra around my chest; then she blinks rapidly and looks away. “Goodness. I didn’t know you had company. We rang the doorbell, and when you didn’t answer, we tried the door. I told you you can leave your door unlocked in Blue Belle, but if you do, people might just walk in, especially in an emergency. Bless.”
“I hadn’t gotten around to it,” I snap as Nova stiffens under me and jerks down her shirt. I pull her up from the floor, then turn down the music, trying to even my breathing.
Ilsa Madden-Mills's Books
- Beauty and the Baller
- The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football #1)
- Not My Match (The Game Changers, #2)
- The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football, #1)
- I Promise You: Stand-Alone College Sports Romance
- Not My Romeo (The Game Changers #1)
- Boyfriend Bargain (Hawthorne University #1)
- I Dare You (The Hook Up #1)
- Fake Fiancée