Page 97 of Second-Rate Superstar
“What’s wrong?” I asked, noting how Braxton’s eyes were trained to where our bodies would soon join.
“Don’t have a condom.” His forehead dropped to mine, his breath fanning my face.
“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean,” I offered, for once glad my heavy teenage periods had put me on birth control before I became sexually active.
“There’s been no one since my last checkup. And I’ve never gone bare.”
“Then we’re fine.”
Braxton’s eyes rose to meet mine. “Are you sure? There’s still a risk.”
I knew what he was asking. Would I be okay if there was an unintended consequence of our coupling? The answer was yes. While it wouldn’t be ideal, I knew Braxton would take care of me, take care ofus—if tonight resulted in an us—and not just out of obligation. He’d made it clear time and time again that I was his endgame. It had taken me longer to get there, but I knew now that he was mine. If life threw us a curveball, we would handle it together.
Nodding, I brushed away the lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. “You’re worth the risk.”
Gripping the back of my neck, he pulled my mouth to his for a quick, hard kiss. Breaking away, he breathed, “Fuck, Dakota. If I weren’t already in love with you, that would have done it.”
My heart hammered against my ribcage. I already knew he loved me, but this was the first time he’d said it. That made this moment all the more perfect.
“Show me how much you love me.”
Lost in a daze, his eyes sharpened, realizing his slip of tongue. But seeing that I wasn’t afraid, wasn’t running, spurred him on and one hand dropped to his cock, guiding it against my core once more, coating it with my arousal before notching at my entrance.
I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.
Without another word of warning, Braxton shifted, pulling my hips to the edge of the dresser and slamming inside with a single stroke.
I’m not fine.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This hurts like a bitch. Why the hell do romance authors lie about a littlepinch? I’m on fucking fire!
My internal panic matched my external reaction—a too-loud yelp flying past my tightly pinched lips as my fingernails dug into the flesh of Braxton’s shoulders.
Blood roared in my ears, and tears leaked from my eyes as I tried to breathe through the pain. Nothing was helping.
“Dakota?” I could vaguely hear the panic in Braxton’s voice. “Baby, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
I couldn’t move, too afraid that the slightest shift would cause more agony.
“Dakota!” Braxton was practically yelling now. Then he stepped out of my arms, breaking the connection between our bodies.
My eyes were tightly shut, but I heard him breathe out in disbelief, “Holy shit.”
He knows.
It didn’t matter that he was no longer inside me; the burning sensation remained.
Okay. I’m gonna count to three and then open my eyes.
One.
Two.
Three.
From across the room, amber eyes begged me—no, theypleadedwith me—to tell him it wasn’t true. But that was the one thing I couldn’t do.
Glancing down, I got my first glimpse of Braxton’s dick. While it wasn’t porn star big—though it had felt that way mere moments ago—it wasn’t exactly small either. And right there on it was the unmistakable proof of my innocence. A streak of crimson stained his length.
