Page 47 of Offsides

He cups my breast, his thumb caressing back and forth over the center until my nipple perks up. Then with his eyes locked on mine, he catches the edge of the fabric in his teeth and tugs it out of the way until my nipple is revealed. He breaks eye contact as he circles my nipple with his tongue and then sucks it into his mouth.

I let out a low sound, something between a grunt and a groan at the sweet sensation of him sucking on my tit, the pleasure sending heat pooling between my thighs. Arching my back, I press my boobs up in wordless encouragement.

To my disappointment, he releases my nipple. But my disappointment is short-lived.

“Take off your shirt,” he says, the words coming out with a rough edge.

I’d normally smile at the fact he’s echoing my earlier command to him, but right now I just want his mouth on me again. He moves back, sitting on his knees and holding out his hands to me to pull me upright so I can do what he wants.

As soon as my shirt is off, he reaches behind me, struggling for a second to unhook my bra, which makes me smile. He grins back with a huff of laughter, then the hooks spring free, and he pulls the straps off my arms and flings the bra away like it offends him.

Before I can react, he’s on me again, his hands cupping my breasts, bowing to tongue and suck and nip at each nipple, and all impulse to laugh flees.

“God, Eli,” I half moan, half whisper.

He grunts his satisfaction as he presses me back down to the pillows, his mouth on mine again, his hands roaming my upper body, then hooking in the waistband of my pants. When he starts tugging, I lift my hips, helping him push the fabric down and off until I’m completely bare before him.

After dropping my pants and underwear on the floor, he sits back and looks at me for a moment. “God, Dani,” he breathes. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

Tears prickle the back of my eyes at the sincerity in his voice, the worship in his gaze.

No one else has called me beautiful before.

Cute, sure. Pretty, once or twice. Ellie called me a hottie the other day, and Autumn has called me gorgeous.

But never, ever beautiful.

Beautiful was reserved for Other Girls. The girls that I was distinctly and proudly Not Like.

I was many things—strong, smart, dedicated, tenacious … but not beautiful.

Which was fine, because it’s not like I ever felt beautiful anyway. Even the other positive adjectives about my appearance never really felt like they fit very well. And under different circumstances I might even try to argue with someone who called me beautiful.

But not Eli. Not now. Not like this.

He definitely means it, and with the way he’s looking at me, I actuallyfeelbeautiful. For the first time ever.

It’s heady. And powerful.

I blink away the urge to cry—because now isnotthe time for tears, and I definitely don’t want Eli to misinterpret them. That would totally ruin the mood. “Your turn.”

Grinning, he stands and undoes his belt, pushing off his jeans and underwear with the same brisk economy of movement as when he removed his coat and shirt.

His dick juts out straight and hard and thick, and it drags up my inner thigh as he climbs back onto the bed with me, getting tantalizingly close to where we both want it, but not so close as to be dangerous.

“I’m not on birth control,” I murmur as I welcome him into my arms.

“I have a condom,” he responds, dotting kisses down my shoulder. “We’d use it even if you were.”

He moves to one side of me, propping himself on his arm, his other hand trailing over my body, exploring my curves, rubbing my nipples, moving to my hip, across my lower belly, then sliding between my thighs until he cups my pussy.

His eyes follow the path his hand travels, but he brings them back to mine when he begins to massage my mound, spreading me open to dip a finger inside me then rubbing my wetness in circles around my clit. “Tell me what you like.”

“Mmm.” I lift my hips, pressing myself into his hand. “I like this.”

His teeth flash in a quick grin. “Good. But don’t be afraid to be more specific. Or show me how you like to be touched. I want to know how to give you pleasure.”

My cheeks heat, which prompts another grin from him. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed,” he whispers. Which only embarrasses me more, and he chuckles when I cover my face with my hands.

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