Page 149 of Unrivaled Love
I’ve only seen her with her last name across her shoulder blades.
My stomach twists as she turns to smile at me.
I return it and shove whatever caused that gut reaction away.
My girl.
Jo walks over and wraps her arms around my neck.
“Fuck that go-ahead goal was sexy. The way you waited patiently for their defense to create the opening.” She leans in and whispers in my ear. “I had to excuse myself after to rub one out in the bathroom because my clit was throbbing.”
Holy shit.
When she pulls back the mischievous look in her emerald eyes tells me she is dead serious.
“How am I supposed to take you out to dinner knowing that?” I ask and she simply giggles.
Fucking minx.
“I am excited to have dinner though. I looked this place up, it’s fancy.” She says like she didn’t just admit to fingering herself thirty minutes ago.
I clear my throat and widen my stance a bit. “It is, so you’ll have to take the jersey off I’m afraid.”
She looks up from where she was digging through her purse and her eyebrows close in. “What?”
“Yeah, there was another top in the box. I figured you’d wear that under the jersey.”
“I’m not wearing anything under the jersey.”
Is it hot in here?
My head feels a little woozy.
Aiden jokes about Harper finding him when he was feverish and he blamed it on her being too hot but he might not have been joking.
Jo’s words in the last two minutes have completely altered my body chemistry.
My forehead is dotted in sweat droplets, little shivers are dancing down my spine, and my cock is swelling too quickly for the setting.
“Bryson, you okay?” She asks with a tilt of her head.
“Josephine Hamilton. Let me get this straight.” I hold up one finger. “You only have the rough fabric of my jersey against your perfect chest right now.” I lift another. “And you fingered yourself in that jersey within the hour.”
“I grabbed my tit through the jersey while I was doing it too.” She lifts a third finger from my fist.
“Fuck it.” I mutter and I grab her hand.
“Bryson!” She laughs but she jogs behind me.
I drag her out to the waiting car, all but shove her into the back seat, and instruct the driver to take us to the hotel.
“What about dinner?” She pouts.
“I’ll get room service.” I grit out as I start doing long division in my head to keep my cool.
“And champagne?”
“Yep. Whatever you want.”
