Hendrix (Raleigh Raptors 3) - Page 3

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She gasped, her eyes flaring wide for all of a heartbeat, but she never slowed. Her hips moved like a dream against mine, her wings blocking out the rest of the gala. A hundred other people disappeared from view, and all I saw was her. All I felt were her curves under my hands as I slid them up the sides of her ribs, my thumbs brushing the jeweled ribbing of her corset beneath her satin and lace-cupped breasts.

“God, Hollywood, you can move.” Her lips parted as her fingers tangled in my hair, stopping when she met my mask.

She knew who I was.

“It’s easy with you as a partner,” I said honestly, my hands tracing the lines of her body until I gripped her hips over her skirt.

“Oh is it?” She asked flirtatiously. “Tell me something. What would the rest of the team think if they saw your hands right now?” She arched against me with the beat, running her hands down my shirt.

“That I’m the luckiest bastard in the city.” I grinned, dipping slightly to hold her hips to mine as we moved. At least I will be once you tell me your name.

“Just the city?” she asked, her lips skimming my jaw.

The sensation shot down my spine, hardening my dick in less time than it took to slip one hand under that lacy skirt to touch her warm, toned thigh. Her breath caught.

“In the world.”

Her laughter triggered that little whisper in my mind again. Familiar. Gorgeous. Where had I seen this woman before?

“You have no clue who I am, do you?” she asked, raking her teeth lightly on my earlobe.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, ready to haul this woman over my shoulder and find out exactly who she was underneath this butterfly costume.

“Come on, Hollywood, say my name,” she taunted, her finger sliding into my waistband just far enough to tease.

I cupped the back of her neck and drew back so I could look into those purple eyes.

“Say it,” she said, rising on her toes so our mouths were only a breath apart.

“Mine.” I ducked my head to kiss her, but I wasn’t prepared for how fast she moved away, laughing.

“Say that in the sunlight, Farmboy.” She winked, then spun, narrowly missing me with a wing. Her hair flicked across my outstretched hand.

Polyester? It was a wig. What color was her hair underneath?

Another blast of smoke curled around us, and she disappeared into the crowd, leaving me standing with a dropped jaw and a serious hard-on.

I followed after her, but she’d done the impossible and fucking vanished.

“Shit.”

2

Savannah

My skin still tingled from the places we’d touched on the dance floor. My blood was sizzling, burning with the need to feel him again. Exhilaration tore through my veins, my mind spinning.

He didn't recognize me.

I ran my fingers delicately over my blonde wig, and a crazed smile shaped my lips. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I made my way over to my best friend, London. Her petite frame leaned against a waist-high marble bar, her sapphire blue eyes lilting around the crowd, almost bored.

Her Marie Antoinette costume did everything to show off her tiny waist and ample bosom, the skirts of her dress popping out and hiding her athletic legs. There was enough makeup on her face that would make other people look like a clown, but on London? She looked like she stepped right out of 1770 France. All she needed was a platter of sweets in her hands and a sardonic smile on her lips.

"What’s got you so giddy?" London asked as I finally reached her and ordered a drink from the bartender.

I leaned against the bar next to her and tried to subdue the smile on my lips. "It's freezing, isn't it?"

London tilted her head, her usually black hair hidden beneath a beehive-shaped blonde wig that nearly toppled over with the movement.

"The costumes." I waved an arm to myself, indicating the entirety of my getup. Some might say it was overkill, but I always took any opportunity I could to become anyone other than Savannah Goodman. Daughter of the infamous Coach Goodman, coach of the Raleigh Raptors. In other words, completely and totally off limits to anyone who actually had the balls to make a move for me, or too untouchable for those who were scared shitless of what the Raptors would do to them if they tried.

My stomach turned acidic with a fresh raw hurt that still soured my soul. Two months. Two months I’d been with Trevor. I’d thought he was different.

I'd been wrong.

I’d been a fool.

"You do look completely different tonight," London said, her sapphire blue eyes scanning the length of my costume—the intricate details of my butterfly dress, the dark purple of my contacts that, while uncomfortable, gave me anonymity that I craved. Even my usually fiery red hair was stuffed and hidden under an ice blonde wig.


Tags: Samantha Whiskey Raleigh Raptors Romance
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