Page 18 of Flag On The Play
Wrapped in black lace and confidence, every curve of her body perfectly framed. She walks in slow, measured, like a lioness entering a cage she owns. Her eyes land on me, and for a heartbeat, they widen. Then narrow.
“Well,” she says, voice like honey and gasoline. “Guess I should’ve known you’d be the kind of guy who doesn’t take a hint.”
I grin, tilting my head. “You never struck me as someone who gives them clearly.”
She crosses her arms. “Let me guess, big win last weekend, and now you’re out celebrating by irritating me?”
I shrug. “I prefer to call it reconnecting.”
“You call this reconnecting?” she asks, stepping closer. “Trapping me in a room with you after requesting me like I’m an order of wings at a bar?”
“You’re not wings,” I say, eyes trailing her body. “You’re the whole damn main course.”
She sneers, shaking her head. “God, you’re still full of it.”
“And you’re still pretending you don’t like it.”
Her jaw tightens, but I see the twitch at the corner of her mouth. The part of her that wants to laugh. The part that doesn’t want to admit she’s enjoying this.
“I could walk out,” she says coolly.
“You could,” I say, leaning forward. “But you won’t.”
Silence.
Thick. Heavy. Electric.
She takes a breath, steadying herself.
“Fine,” she says. “You want a dance? You’ll get one. But fair warning, quarterback. I’m not the same girl who walked past you in high school like you didn’t exist.”
“And I’m not the same guy who let that girl get under his skin,” I lie.
Because she’s definitely still under it.
CHAPTER 7
NOVA
Well, my plan didn’t go exactly how I expected.
I knew he saw me on Sunday. I knew I was the reason his ass got sacked, too. I felt equal parts pride and guilt, okay, maybe a little more pride. He’s been a walking ego since high school, so taking him down a peg felt fair.
What I didn’t expect was for him to request me in The Backstage. That’s a whole new level of ballsy.
Classic Finlay Reed. Always pushing buttons. Always playing the long game.
Now, I have to dance for him and only him. And I hate how thrilling that is. How I’ve thought about what it would feel like to have him sit back and watch me.
His stare is heavy. Possessive. Like he already knows what’s coming and is savoring every second before it happens.
I toss my robe off with a flick of my wrist, standing tall in nothing but a black lace thong and heels.
Finlay leans back like he’s on a damn throne, arms stretched across the back of the velvet couch, his thighs spread wide, daring me to come closer. His jaw tightens. His eyes drag down my body so slow it makes my skin flush.
“Damn, Nova,” he whispers, his voice low and wrecked.
I strut to him and climb onto his lap, straddling him without fully settling my weight. My hands plant on his broad shoulders, and I lean in, close enough that my breath fans over his lips. The second our eyes lock, the air between us thickens.
