Read Bad Boy's Cinderella: A Sports Romance for Free Online

in my ears and curling my toes. But I felt I had to put up some kind of cursory protest, so I said, “I’m not your property,” through a tight throat, even as I curled my hand around the back of his neck, fingers brushing through his hair.
    “No,” he said. “You’re my date. And that makes me the only man allowed to touch you tonight.”
    I swallowed. “I didn’t say you could touch me,” I managed, and he gave me a slow, filthy smirk as he palmed the curve at the top of my ass.
    “You’re not stopping me either.”
    “You’re very forward.”
    “You find me exciting.”
    I quirked an eyebrow. “Arrogant.”
    “Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, and on my nod, he leaned into me and ghosted his nose along my jaw, making my eyes flutter shut. Then he reached my ear, traced his lips against my earlobe in the barest of teasing touches, and whispered, “I’m fucking crazy about you.”
    Heat spiraled up through my stomach and chest, forcing me to bite back something like a gasp. I had no words for a response, no idea how to act. If I should press closer, something almost obscene—if I should pull away, give us both some space to calm down, regain propriety.
    He had other things in mind apparently, because he pulled back, looked me in the eye, his own eyes glimmering just for me. “Do you want to see the VIP rooms in the back?” he asked, and in that moment there wasn’t one single part of me that wanted to say no.
    The universe thought differently, however.
    “Reade! Oh my God.” The squeal came from somewhere to the left, cutting through the soft music and the tension holding me in a spell. Reade blinked, something like irritation flitting over his face as his jaw twitched, and then he stepped away from me, pasted on a grin, held up his arms. “The birthday girl,” he drawled, his tone oddly pleasant and…well, brotherly. Entirely different to the tone he’d breathed into my ear only a few moments before.
    It seemed the birthday girl wasn’t in the mood for a birthday hug. She had a face like thunder as she stomped over to us, and there was no denying this was Reade’s sister—she looked almost identical to him, with the same dark eyes and hair, the perfectly angled face, the almost invisible smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. But she didn’t possess his same charm, not with her face twisted into anger, the reason for which came all too clear when Reade said, “Hey, Georgia, let me to introduce my date—” But Georgia cut him off with a snarl.
    “I don’t care what her name is,” she said. “You need to make her go and change her dress.”
    I jerked my head back. “What?” Change this dress? This dress? God himself wouldn’t get me out of this dress, not after how long I’d wanted it. Birthday girl or not, Georgia Lennox did not get to dictate what I wore, for God’s sake.
    “We can’t wear the same thing!” Georgia hissed, and yeah—I could see it now, after taking a moment to look at what the she had draped over her slim, youthful frame.
    We were both wearing slinky red dresses, although I didn’t think they were that similar, not up close. Georgia’s didn’t even have the beading in the hem. Although I guessed at a distance they could be mistaken for the same, if you squinted.
    “And this is my party,” Georgia added, thrusting her hands on her hips. She looked in her early twenties, but in that moment she could’ve passed for a petulant teen, stamping her foot for Mommy and Daddy.
    Reade’s eyes narrowed, something harsh forming, and I didn’t want this night spoiled—or to get caught in the middle of a sibling argument. I stepped forward and hitched on a smile. “Hey Georgia, can I just say how lovely you—”
    She raised a hand, and the look on her face was full of so much condescension that for a brief moment, I imagined wiping it off her with a well-placed slap.
    “I know you’re feeling pretty special right now,” Georgia said bitingly.