She gives me a look that's part stern, part playful. “Cole Maddox, you just won your season opener. We're toasting to that, whether you like it or not.” She moves to the ice bucket.
“I'm glad you made it to the game,” I say.
“I wouldn't have missed it.” She pops the cork. “Though I'm sorry I couldn't stay for the whole celebration.”
“I know.” She doesn’t need to explain further. We can’t be seen together. “This is better. This is perfect.”
She pours two glasses, the champagne fizzing gold in the candlelight. “To the season,” she says, raising her glass. “And to you, Captain.”
We clink glasses, and I take a sip, letting the bubbles hit my tongue. Then I pull her into my arms.
She laughs, the sound vibrating against my mouth. “You're impossible.”
“You love it.”
Instead of answering, I set my glass aside and tug at the belt of her robe. This time, she doesn't stop me. The silk falls open, revealing the smooth expanse of her skin, and my mouth goes dry.
“Beautiful,” I say, trailing my fingers along her collarbone.
I take another sip of champagne, holding it in my mouth as I lower my head to her breast. When I close my lips around her nipple, she gasps, her hands flying to my hair.
The champagne is cold against her heated skin, and the contrast makes her arch against me. I let the bubbles fizz against her as I suck gently, and the sounds she makes go straight to my cock.
The robe is open now, pooling at her elbows, and she is bare and perfect and mine.
I pull back and swallow the champagne, my breathing ragged. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire. “Cole,” she whispers, her voice husky.
I don't answer with words, and instead I lay her down on the rug, then quickly undress, save for my boxer briefs. Then I reach for the bottle of champagne and kneel between her legs, spreading them apart.
Her breath hitches, a question forming in her eyes that I answer with a slow tilt of my wrist. The cold, golden liquid spills over her stomach, a rivulet tracing a path down the plane of her abdomen.
She jolts at the shock of it, a sharp inhale catching in her throat.
I follow the trail, watching it drip onto the inside of her thigh, and then, with another gentle pour, I let it flow directly over her core, soaking the dark curls, gleaming on her most sensitive skin.
Placing the champagne bottle on the floor, I grip her things and lower my head, inhaling deeply. The scent of her, mixed with the crisp champagne, is an intoxicating drug. I bury my face between her legs, my tongue flat against her, licking up every last drop.
“Oh God, Cole, oh my God,” Harper cries out.
I’m too busy licking every drop. The taste is insane. The champagne mixed with her taste is the perfect flavor.
I groan against her as I feast on her, lapping up the champagne and her arousal, my tongue circling her clit, delving inside her, claiming every part of her.
Harper’s thighs shake, and her hips move against my mouth. “Right there.”
I don’t let up. I drink her in until I’m dizzy with it, until the champagne is gone and there’s only the pure, slick taste of her desire. I feel her start to tense, her muscles coiling, her cries becoming higher, more desperate.
But I want to be inside her when she comes.
Harper wraps her legs around me as I carry her the few steps to the couch and lay her down on the cushions. Following her down, I cover her body with mine, leaving enough space to pull down my briefs.
Harper’s face is flushed, her lips swollen, and her body laid bare for me. “Look at me,” I command, my voice rough.
Her eyes, glazed with desire, find mine.
I push into her in one smooth, deep thrust. She cries out, arching her back, then digs her nails into my shoulders.
She is so wet, so ready, so unbelievably tight around me.
