I wait until I'm sure the coast is clear, and then turn to make my way back down to the party. At least, that's the plan until a streak of red comes bolting out of thebathroom across from me like her hair is on fire and her ass is catching.
Jesus Christ. She's fast.
She damn near tackles me, knocking me back like I'm a rookie linebacker.
"Oh, shit!" One hand grabs my tie, hauling me forward. The other is all over my lower abdomen, creeping closer to my balls by the second. I'm not sure if she's trying to cop a feel or save herself. She's squirming too much for her goal to be obvious, but my junk is seconds from getting some serious action.
"Stay still!" she cries, practically choking me with my own damn tie, only to stumble in her heels again. She loses her grip on the tie, smacking me in the chest as her hand slips.
Fucking hell. She's a walking disaster, a goddamn tornado with great tits.
This would be funny if it weren't so fucking ridiculous.
I grab the hand perilously close to my balls, trying to stop her before she sends us plummeting to the ground, but there is no stopping a force of nature. She jerks backward, sending the glass in my hand toppling.
"Oh, no," she whispers, blinking in shock as wine spills down my pants, soaking through the fabric right over my crotch.
It's a problem.
Mostly because she's a bombshell with the prettiest gray eyes I've ever seen, and her hands are all over my body. She's fucking stunning, with curves my hands itch to sink into and gorgeous olive skin. My dick appreciates the action as much as the view, and there's no hiding him. He's standing at attention like he just heard the national anthem.
"I'm so sorry!" she gasps, sinking to her knees in front of me.
Fuck me.
"Sto—"
Too late.
Her hands are over my cock, patting at the damp fabric like she can sop up the wine with nothing but her embarrassment.
And I'm so goddamn hard it's ridiculous. Like, could-hammer-nails hard.
She notices. Of course she notices. It's literally impossible not to notice the goddamn tent-situation in my pants with the fabric soaked to my skin.
Her shocked gaze flies to mine, her full lips parted. Her hands still on my cock. "Are you…? Is that…?"
"My cock? Afraid so." I glance down at the hard bastard. "He says hello, by the way."
Chapter Two
Serena
This is not happening. It cannot be happening. Except…it is. I have my hands all over a football player's cock, and I don't even like football.
Hockey, I understand. It makes sense. My brother plays hockey. You just bash the hell out of the opposing team until you sink the puck. Sweat, aggression, and men on skates? I get that. I love that.
But football? There's just no logic. Out of every sport on the planet, it makes the least amount of sense to me. Yes, let's run five yards, stop, rearrange, and then run five more yards before we do it all over again.
Why? I'm not convinced even they know.
I snatch my hands back, my cheeks burning with humiliation.
"Don't stop on my account," Austin Hawkes drawls, smirking down at me like the hottest damn devil I've ever seen. I may not know much about football, but I know about Austin Hawkes. He and my best friend accidentally ended up in the papers together last year. Even if that hadn't happened, his face is plastered on billboards all over the metro area. He's hot on said billboards, but up close and in person?
Maybe I might be convinced to watch a game or two if he's playing.
He's a mountain of a man with the greenest eyes I've ever seen and a smirk that should come with a warning label. No wonder every woman downstairs is dressed for battle with their tits up and their claws out.
