The Billionaire Takes a Bride (Billionaires and Bridesmaids, #3)(52)

And pounded on her hips with her hands, signaling the end of the jam.

It was over. The Broadway Rag Queens won by one point. The audience roared their appreciation as the women skated a victory lap around the track, arms raised in triumph.

The crowd surged forward out of the bleachers, moving to the floor, and Sebastian went with them, heading unerringly for Chelsea.

She spotted him as he approached the track and sped up, skating through the crowd to fling herself into his arms with a happy squeal. Her face was red with exertion, her ponytails damp with sweat, but she was exuberant. “We won,” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck even as he lifted her into the air and hugged her.

“You were f*cking amazing! I nearly lost my mind when you did that last move at the end to block the jammer—”

Her eyes lit up with pleasure at his compliment. Then her gaze flicked to his mouth, and she impulsively pressed her mouth to his in a hard kiss.

Sebastian was startled—Chelsea didn’t kiss impulsively. He knew now that she had issues with intimacy because of her past. He was resolved not to push her, to let her lead. He’d follow wherever she led. And if she wasn’t eager for kisses, he was fine with that.

But the lips on his weren’t hesitant in the slightest. They were excited, eager, and as her mouth slicked over his, she licked the seam of his mouth. She was asking—no, demanding—for more from him.

He gave it to her, then, his arms tightening around her body as he hungrily returned the kiss, his mouth devouring hers. His tongue met and clashed with hers, and their teeth banged together once, and then it was just endless deep kiss after endless deep kiss. A thrust of tongue, a sultry moan deep in the throat, the nip of her teeth, all of them drove the world out until it was just him and Chelsea, locked together.

And she wasn’t pulling away. She was totally into it, just as much as he was.

But he kept his hands carefully at her waist. He was the one who broke the kiss and opened his eyes to see Chelsea giving him a dazed look, her mouth swollen and wet from his kisses.

And f*ck, he wanted to kiss her all over again. To press his mouth to hers over and over again until she was begging for more.

But . . . this was Chelsea, and Chelsea was the leader. So he smiled down at her and thumped her helmet. “What was that for?”

“I just . . .” She shrugged, then grinned at him. “I wanted to molest you with my mouth.”

“I am open for it any time at all.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth again, and she gave him another hot look. And . . . holy f*ck, was she actually considering it?

“No one’s going to be in the locker room for a few minutes,” she breathed, then grabbed his hand, dragging him to the back of the building. “Come on.”

He had to jog to keep up with her. Sebastian wasn’t sure if this was smart, but hell, if Chelsea wanted to fling him down on the track and have sex with him right then and there, in front of everyone, he was down for it.

They raced to the locker room, and Chelsea slammed the door shut behind them, then turned the lock. She skated toward Sebastian and then pulled him down to sit on the bench in front of the lockers. Then, she flung one leg over his hips and settled herself into his lap, wrapping both legs around him.

And she kissed him again. Deep, hungry, eager.

And f*ck, his cock was rock-hard and aching like never before.

Chelsea rocked against his lap, then tugged at the front of her uniform, revealing her breasts. Then, she attacked him with her mouth again, kissing and licking and nibbling at his mouth. Her hips rocked against his, and when he continued to hold her at her waist, she took his hand and guided it to her breast. “Touch me, Sebastian.”

He groaned. He didn’t know what had come over her, but he was game for it. Maybe it was the excitement from winning the bout, but if this was what she needed, he’d be happy to participate. “You remember your safe word?” he asked, even as he slid his thumb over her nipple. It was hard against his skin, and she pushed against his hand with a whimper.

“I don’t think I’ll need it,” she told him between quick, eager kisses. “Put your hand in my panties. Feel how wet I am right now.”

Damn, what an invitation. She shifted in his lap and he slid his hand down, searching through the layers of her uniform to find skin. When he found her stomach, he delved down and . . . god, she was soaking wet. So f*cking wet that his fingers were coated. “Oh, yeah,” he murmured, and kissed her neck. She smelled like sweat and flowers and it was f*cking incredible. “You’re wet as hell.”

“Feels good,” she murmured, and began to rock her hips against his fingers as she kissed him again. “I don’t know if I want your fingers inside me or your cock.”

He stilled, mentally going through the contents of his wallet. He hadn’t dated in a while and had taken out the last condom. “I don’t have any protection on me.” And since she wasn’t into sex before now, it was likely she wasn’t on birth control.

She rocked on his hand, her nipples scraping against the front of his shirt. “Then you finger me until I get off, huh? And then when we get home, I get you off?”

His cock pulsed in response to the offer. “Whatever you want to do.”

She bit her lip and then leaned forward and scraped her breasts against his chest again. “I think I want your fingers on my clit.”