Wildfire (Maple Hills, #2)(9)
I hear her say my name, but it doesn’t immediately register that she’s said my name until I sense Aurora looking up at me. She really is gorgeous, Jesus.
The only person who knows you’re not confident is you.
Her cheeks are more flushed than earlier, eyes glossy. “Are you sober enough to be okay with this?”
She nods, grinning. “Are you?” I gently slip my hand beneath her hair to cup the back of her neck, rubbing my thumb beneath her jaw as her pulse hammers against my palm.
“Yep.” She stretches up onto her tiptoes as my head lowers, her hands finding their place on my neck and then my mouth meets hers. Soft at first, hesitant, until she moans softly and for a minute, I forget that we have an audience.
The audience don’t forget us though and, when I pull her body closer to mine, they whoop, bringing us both back down to earth with a crash. Breaking apart, she takes a step back, hand shooting to her lips as she turns to Emilia and mutters something that makes her grin.
Fake it until you make it.
The game moves on, blank block after blank block round the whole table, making people question if Robbie and JJ just gave up writing dares, to which they’re incredibly insulted. Aurora pulls another blank block and a disappointed groan from the table follows.
“This tower is holding it together better than I can,” Aurora mumbles, putting the block on the top of the wobbling structure.
I pull mine and immediately spot Robbie’s untidy scrawl on the wood.
CHANGE DIRECTION
“Change direction?” I read out loud. “I don’t get it?”
“It means it’s my go again,” Aurora says from beside me and Robbie nods to confirm.
She picks her block which—speaking strictly from an engineering standpoint—is one of the worst one’s she could’ve chosen if she wants the tower to stay upright. It occurs to me that she might just want to see it fall over, but the thought stops there when she starts to laugh. And it’s fucking magical.
She spins the block to face the group.
GIVE YOUR NEAREST HOCKEY PLAYER A LAPDANCE FOR 2 MINUTES
“That was the one I wrote!” Lola shouts happily. “You’re welcome, Muffin.”
If looks could kill, I’d be dead. Every player is looking at me with pure jealousy after appraising Aurora for a little too long. I clear my throat loudly and they all snap out of it.
Oh, man. I’m going to get a boner in front of all my friends.
Bobby rushes off to find one of the chairs we stored earlier as Anastasia asks Aurora her musical preferences. I know it isn’t a big deal, but it low-key feels like a big deal. I’m pretty sure my face is bright red. How the fuck am I supposed to fake confidence through this?
Bending to her height, I move close to her ear so only she can hear me. “You don’t have to do this. Don’t let them peer pressure you.”
“It’s a silly dance,” she says, squeezing my arm. “But thank you. If you’re not good with it, I’ll just do the shots.”
“I’m good with it.” I’m so fucking good with it.
“Anything you don’t want me to do?”
God, no. “You can do anything.”
There’s something about already being shirtless that makes this whole thing feel more intimate. Thankfully, having multiple people staring right at you while you sit in a dining room chair is enough to wipe that feeling away.
Nice to know this is what I’ll think of next time I sit to eat.
Aurora reaches for her shots, doing two. “I’m not forfeiting,” she confirms quickly. “It’s for courage.”
I feel like I need courage and all I’ve got to do is sit here and let a woman who is so far out of my league we’re not even playing the same sport dance on me. The music changes from the upbeat chart song that was playing to something slower, darker and Lola holds up her phone with the timer set.
It’s easy to forget the rest of the room when Aurora walks over, smiling as she positions herself behind me. Both hands start at my shoulders and slowly trail down my chest and abs until she’s bent over enough that her head is level with mine. She pecks my cheek and laughs lightly, and that’s the moment that I know this is about to be the best kind of torture.
Moving in front of me, she starts to move her hips slowly in time to the music. Nudging my knees a little wider, she steps between them, turning and lowers herself down onto me.
Thirty seconds of Aurora’s ass rubbing right against my dick pass by in a flash. Her back is flush with my bare chest, the smell of peach wafts under my nose as her hair swishes around. I start reciting dead Presidents in my head, but it’s no use. Her hips change rhythm and her body vibrates as she chuckles, looking up at me. Yeah, she can definitely feel my hard dick digging into her ass.
My knuckles are white from gripping the seat of the chair; I don’t even need to be touching her, apparently. She lifts herself from me and I don’t need to panic about everyone spotting my boner for long because she turns and lowers herself back into my lap, straddling me.
This is worse, so, so much worse.
Worse in a better way, that is. Since she’s fucking hot and now I get to watch her face as she grinds into me, looking wholly pleased with herself. “You can touch me,” she whispers, her eyes dark.
George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson . . .