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And right now, I want to carry her out of here, take her back to my place, and force her to tell me everything. I want to tell her all about me and my family and see if she’s as proud of me for my career as I am of hers. I want to tell her about every win this season and show her every highlight reel that’s been made for me. And then . . . then I want to bring her to my bedroom and do every single dirty, unhinged thing I’ve ever imagined.
I want to completely lose myself in the feeling of being with her in such a vulnerable way. I want to hear every sound she makes when she feels pleasure and how they change and grow when she’s about to come.
I want to ravish her.
Fuck. I want it all. Every. Last. Thing.
“Here you go! That’ll be fifty-four dollars and ten cents,” the woman at the counter says.
I tear my eyes from the table and smile at her, noting the stack of Styrofoam containers she’s putting inside a brown paper bag. After paying, I carry it over to the table.
Whatever they were talking about comes to an abrupt stop when I reach them and grin at Braxton.
“Ready?” I tuck the bag in my elbow and hold it against my chest as I offer her my hand and help her up.
“Ready,” she breathes out.
I’m surprised to see Annalise standing beside us, purse in hand. She notices my confusion and asks, “Did you think I was going to sit here and eat after all of this?”
I roll my lips to hide my smile. “Of course not.”
Placing my palm to Braxton’s lower back, I follow Annalise outside, not a single one of us looking back at the table before we’re on the sidewalk. I’m sure the lack of attention burns Roy deeper than any goodbye.
“It was great to see you again, Maddox. The three of us will have to have dinner together or something soon,” Annalise says, reaching over to give my wrist a squeeze once we stop just a few steps away from the restaurant.
“The Warriors play our first second-round home game on Tuesday. You should come with Braxton,” I offer.
In all honesty, I’m asking for both Braxton and myself. Fans are crazy on a normal day, but when you throw in the buzz of the playoffs and the recent news of our relationship, I’m worried about having her out in the stands all alone.
“I would love that!” she squeals.
Braxton’s smile tells me I made the right call.
“Great. I’ll send Curly the tickets, and she can send you all the information.”
“Can’t wait. Text me when you get home, ‘kay? We need to coordinate our outfits or whatever girls do when they’re dating someone famous,” Annalise tells her sister.
I stifle a laugh.
Braxton rolls her eyes and pulls her in for a quick hug. “There won’t be any outfit planning. I have to wear Dox’s jersey.”
“Every single day,” I add.
Anna looks between Braxton and me with heavy suspicion. “This sounds like a story I want to hear. I thought you just wore Maddox’s jersey today to piss off Dad.”
“Killed two birds with one stone, I guess. I’ll tell you all about the bet tomorrow. I have to get back to the office before Marco gets overrun,” Braxton says.
My scowl is immediate. “How well do you know this Marco guy?”
Anna giggles and pats Braxton on the back. “Good luck with that. I’m going. Love you lots.” Then her eyes are on me, slightly more narrowed now. “Take care of her.”
“Always,” I promise immediately. She nods.
“Bye, Anna. Love you,” Braxton says, waving when her sister starts to head off in the opposite direction as us.
When she slips through the crowds of people and we lose sight of her, Braxton steps in front of me and wraps her arms around me, resting her cheek to my chest.
Surprised but not stupid, I return the embrace, keeping her pressed to me, not giving a shit that she can probably hear how fast my heart beats for her. I contemplate dropping the bag of food so that I can put both of my arms around her, but I’m starving, and I need to eat before practice, even if breakfast food isn’t what my trainer would approve for pre-practice body fuel.
