“It’s later than I thought. Coach’ll kill me if I’m not ready tomorrow. Even though I’ll probably ride the bench all night. Cliff’s gonna play every minute he can with all those scouts at the game there to see him, but I gotta be ready.”
“I hope you get some time to play, too.” She frowns. “It’s the last game of the season. It’s not fair if you don’t get some time on the court.”
“It doesn’t work like that. Besides, like I said, I may still get some looks for football.”
“I hope so.” She hesitates, bites down on her bottom lip before rushing on. “Maybe you could call me sometime, or…” She shakes her head and blows out a quick breath. “You don’t have to. It’s not like—”
“I will call you,” I cut in. “I don’t know where things are headed after this year, but we could stay in touch.”
She beams, and that smile outshines the moon and the stars. “Yeah, I’d like that too.”
I can’t leave without…something. I want to touch her, to kiss her, but that might be weird. I’m still trying to figure out what move I should make when she makes it for me. She leans over and kisses my cheek. It’s a friendly gesture, but as soon as her mouth touches my skin, the small flicker of heat that has simmered inside ever since I laid eyes on her in that tiny top and those tight jeans roars to full flame. I turn my head, kissing the corner of her mouth. She stills, her wide eyes searching my face. Without looking away, her tongue darts out to lick my bottom lip. I groan, cupping her head in my hand, dipping to suck her bottom lip and then the top. She pushes closer under the blanket, pressing into my chest, straining up to open my lips with hers.
“Takira,” I whisper, sharing a breath with her. “We should stop.”
“No.” She shakes her head, kissing my chin and touching my cheekbone. “Kiss me again.”
I can’t resist her, especially not when the lust, the desire I’ve been feeling for her all night is so clearly reciprocated in her eyes, in the way she touches me. I kiss the fragile line of her collarbone and suck at the satiny, sweet-smelling skin of her throat. My lips coast up to the small cleft in her chin. I notch my tongue into that little indentation, and she laughs, shifting her head to kiss me again.
This time it’s deeper, hotter. My hands wander down to her ass. It looked so good in these jeans, but in my hands—God, my dick is so hard. She touches me through my jeans, and I pull away from the kiss to draw in a deep breath.
“Takira,” I pant. “Don’t do that. I won’t be able to…I want to…”
She places my hand on her chest, looking at me and not breaking the stare. Her breast is soft and spills over the edges of my hand. I squeeze, and she moans, her eyes drifting closed as she leans deeper into my palm. I brush my finger across the nipple, and it goes hard.
“That feels good,” she gasps. “Keep doing it.”
With one hand, I knead her breast. The other hand wanders down her back, palming her ass, cupping her hip. Turned on her side, she opens her legs, resting her knee on my thigh and biting my earlobe, then soothing, sucking it into her mouth.
“You can touch me,” she whispers, guiding my hand between her legs.
Even through the denim, I can feel that she’s hot there.
“You sure?” I ask, frowning. “We don’t have to.”
“I want you to, Naz.”
Searching her face, I nod and slowly lower her zipper. The sound is loud on the roof, and I glance up at the stars as if they might judge me, might stop me from taking something I desire this much. When my fingers slip into her jeans, past the edge of her cotton panties and to the slit of her pussy, she gasps, breath leaving her in a whoosh.
“Oh, my god,” she says, panting as I slide my finger over her clit, repeating the motion until her hips are moving in time with my touch. She rolls onto her back and eases her jeans and panties down, spreading her legs.
I shove her shirt up, squeezing her breast through the bra. Her nipples pebble beneath the fabric, and I bend down, nudging the satin cup away and taking her nipple into my mouth.
“Naz,” she moans.
“You have great tits, Kira,” I manage to say. “You’re beautiful.”
I cup her pussy and slip a finger inside. She’s so tight, and the slick walls clamp around my finger like a fist. I don’t want to assume or hurt her.
“Are you a…” I press my lips closed over whatever awkward thing I was about to say. “Have you ever—”
“I’m not a virgin, Naz. It’s okay.”
I keep rubbing her clit. It’s swollen, and she’s so wet and tight. I ease in another finger, watching her expression for clues that it feels good or if it hurts.
“Yes.” Her eyes roll back. “Naz. Don’t stop.”
“Kira,” I groan, taking her breast into my mouth, licking the darker halo of skin around her nipple. As my fingers move in and out of her tightness, I can’t help but imagine how it will feel when that’s me. When she’s spread under me and I can push into her. Wetness seeps into my briefs. I’m leaking at the thought. Her eyes squeeze shut, and she bites her lip. She grips my wrist, and her back arches, a cry trapped in her throat as she soaks my hand.