Текст книги "Major Misconduct"

Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter 11

The team was supposed to leave San Jose right after the game on Saturday night, arriving back in Chicago on their charter flight around three o’clock Sunday morning, but the flight got delayed because of weather in Chicago. They were all exhausted, and sitting in the airport for hours didn’t help their mood after the loss.

“We’ve got a ten a.m. practice tomorrow,” Hughie said to Marc. “Dude, you gotta get us out of that.”

So Marc as the captain had a word with the coaching staff. The flight ended up only leaving an hour late, but still, they’d agreed by the time everyone got home they’d get minimal sleep, and they made it an optional skate in the afternoon. Marc shared the news with the others, who were all appreciative. “Thanks, man,” he heard more than once, and more than one guy yawned as he said it.

Marc managed to sleep on the flight. He’d gotten pretty good at shutting things out and crashing, but still he wanted more sleep in his own bed.

Team staff had their vehicles waiting for them on the tarmac, and he jumped into Duncan’s new SUV with him for the drive to their condo. Team staff would look after their gear and get it to the arena for them. Neither of them talked much as Duncan navigated dark freeways and streets through light traffic.

Once inside the condo, Marc couldn’t help but glance at the couch in the living room. No Lovey. Duncan noticed too.

“Huh,” he said. “Where is she?”

The door to the room she’d been using was closed. Marc started toward it to see if she was in there, but Duncan elbowed him out of the way. “I’ll look.” Quietly he eased the door open and stuck his head inside. Then he withdrew and shut the door. “Son of a bitch. She’s got all her furniture in there.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yep. Sound asleep in her bed.”

Imagining Lovey in bed was not where his mind should go. “Great,” Marc mumbled. “See you later.”

He headed straight to his room. He’d already ditched the tie but couldn’t wait to get the suit and shirt off and climb into bed. His big, empty bed.

Well, it was good that Lovey wasn’t sleeping on the couch anymore. No more accidental encounters with her in skimpy little clothes. They did, however, still have to share a bathroom. Which he needed to use then.

Once again he shook his head at the feminine scent of the room. Now not only was her girlie crap spread out everywhere, new towels had appeared—soft, thick yellow towels, one of them with flowers embroidered along one edge.

Sleep. He just wanted to sleep for about a year. His body hurt from numerous hard hits into the boards. He’d taken a puck off his skate and his foot still throbbed, although they’d checked him out and nothing was broken. He’d finished the game on sheer will alone. They’d set the tone for the game from the opening face-off, with a lot of hard hits and grinding, physical play. This worked for them. They’d had the Sharks on their heels most of the game, but it had been a one-goal game until near the end of the third, when a fluky play had the puck going into their own net off Olaf’s skate. Another loss, but this time it irked even more because they really felt they’d played well enough to win.

Fuck.

He slept in, later than usual anyway, and found himself strangely eager to get dressed and leave his bedroom. He didn’t have to think too hard about why that was. He was eager to see Lovey.

Fuck, being away from her had been weird. She’d been staying with them for just over a week but had made her presence so known in the condo, her brightness and laughter and girl crap in the bathroom and in the fridge, he found himself wanting to get back to that. It was a bizarre, edgy feeling.

He stopped short at the sight of her in the dining room stretched out on a yoga mat. She wore snug black pants that ended just below her knees and an equally tight lime green tank top. She was on her hands and knees, walking her hands out in front of her, ass in the air, little bare toes curled into her soles. Then she dropped her head to the mat and remained like that.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her sweet little ass, rounded cheeks pushed up toward him. Blood flowed to his groin in a hot rush. The pose made him want to move up behind her and—Crisse.

He cleared his throat and moved into the kitchen. She turned her head, arms still stretched out in front of her. “Oh hey,” she said with a smile. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.”

She slowly, gracefully, pulled herself up and sat, ass to her heels now. “I missed you.”

His head snapped around to gape at her. “Uh…” Why did she say things like that? Fuck!

“Seriously.” She lifted her arms above her head in a stretch. “It was so quiet here I could’ve gone crazy. I need people to talk to.”

“Oh.”

Why did he turn into such a speechless idiot around her?

“But I kept busy.” She stood now but bent over to roll up her mat, again giving him a hard-on-inducing view of her ass. She propped the mat in the corner, behind the weight bench, then approached him.

“That’s good.” He started to find food, pulling a dozen eggs out of the fridge. Wow, there was a lot of food in it. Usually there was mostly beer.

She slid that sweet ass onto a stool at the island. “How was the trip? I watched every game.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” She gave him a look with a little notch between her eyebrows. “You okay after last night? That shot you took in the foot looked painful.”

“I’m okay. It hurt like a motherfucker, but I walked it off.”

“And finished the game.” She shook her head. “You guys are so tough.”

“It’s our job. Uh…want some eggs?”

“Yeah. I would. Let me help. I like mine scrambled.”

“I can do scrambled.”

He opened the fridge again and frowned. “Why are there fifteen fucking bags of spinach in here?”

“I use it to make smoothies,” she said serenely. “And there’s not fifteen.”

“Oh.”

Together they cracked eggs and toasted bread. Lovey got out the big non-stick fry pan. As they worked she chatted about what she’d been up to while the team was away. And Marc found himself listening with curious interest.

“You actually leased an apartment?” he said, frowning.

“Yeah. January first. That’s still a ways away. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“I have the impression you don’t want me here.”

Her honesty made him cringe. “It’s not that I don’t want you here…I just…”

“Don’t want me,” she finished.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “That’s not it either,” he said quietly. “You’re Duncan’s sister.”

“I’m tired of hearing that. Being his sister doesn’t make me a nun, for cheese sake.”

He choked on a laugh. Christ. “What do you want on your toast?”

“I don’t want toast, thanks.”

“Why not?”

She gave him a lopsided smile. “I avoid carbs.”

He blinked. “Why?”

“They make me put on weight.”

He couldn’t stop himself from giving her an up and down look. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Not if I avoid carbs,” she agreed. “Don’t worry, I don’t always. I just try to stick to lean protein and fruits and vegetables as much as I can. Then once in a while I can have pizza or a hamburger and it’s fine.”

“That sounds…reasonable,” he admitted.

“I can’t eat a gazillion calories, like you and Duncan. Are there any hockey players who put on too much weight?”

“Yeah, sure. Dale Ronson comes to training camp every year overweight and has to take some off.”

“Huh. He’s a huge guy, though.”

“True, but carrying around too much weight isn’t good.”

They sat to eat breakfast. “Any luck finding a job?” he asked as he forked up eggs.

“Um. No. Not yet. But I’m feeling good about a few things.” She looked down at her plate.

Why did he have this gut feeling she wasn’t really looking? But why wouldn’t she? She clearly didn’t intend to freeload off her brother for the rest of her life, since she’d rented an apartment. What was going on with her?

It wasn’t his business, despite the curiosity burning a hole inside him.

She changed the subject. “You guys gonna practice today?”

He let her have that. “No. They made it an optional skate this afternoon. Our flight was a little delayed last night and we didn’t get home until four-thirty.”

“Oh my God. Yeah, that would have make things tough for a morning practice. So if it’s optional, you don’t have to go.”

“I’ll go.” He grimaced. “I might not skate. Gonna get a few things checked out. Might be a good idea to rest today.” He circled his left shoulder gingerly. Then he met her concerned eyes.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

She bit her lip and the worry on her face made him strangely pleased. But also sorry. It also made him want to kiss her.

She was so open and out there about everything, it made him both admiring and uncomfortable. He tried to keep his emotions under wraps. Yeah, he was passionate about his game but it was important to stay in control at all times. So her freely admitting she’d missed him (and Duncan), openly showing her concern for him, honest about the fact that she was attracted to him and apparently wanted to do him, made him a little nuts.

“Why did your girlfriend break up with you?” she asked.

Wow, that was a head-spinning change of subject. “Christ. Why are you bringing her up?”

“I’m just curious. I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend until I talked to my mom the other day. She says to say hi, by the way. She was worried about you when you broke up with…”

“Marissa. She broke up with me.”

“Yeah. Mom said that. So what happened?”

“I’m not ‘romantic’ enough.” He slid off the stool. “You done eating?”

She tipped her head to one side. “Really? She broke up with you because of that?”

“So she said. Gimme your plate?”

Lovey snorted. “That’s bullshit.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Girls want romance. Right?”

“Weeell…I don’t know if you can generalize like that. How can you say all girls want one thing? It can’t be true. And what does that even mean? Not ‘romantic’ enough…did she want roses every week? Foot rubs every night?”

Marc laughed. “She wanted fireworks.”

Lovey bit her bottom lip. “Well, that I get. But you know, sex gets less about the fireworks when you’ve been together awhile.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Not sexual fireworks. Literally, fireworks. And horse-drawn carriage rides. That kind of shit.”

“Oh.” Lovey gave a small smile. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to insult your sexual prowess.”

“She never complained about the sex,” Marc admitted dryly.

“But seriously…horse-drawn carriage rides? That’s kind of superficial. I mean, being romantic isn’t about flowers and gestures like that. It’s about…being thoughtful. Small gestures, yeah, but they have to be personal. It’s just being there for each other. Spending time together.” She gave him a sideways look.

“Huh.” He shrugged off the vaguely uncomfortable feeling her words aroused. Because deep down inside, he had a feeling he hadn’t been there for Marissa. He’d been there…but not wholly.

Shit. Lovey didn’t even know him or Marissa, and had somehow put her finger on what the problem really was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t romantic enough. It was that he hadn’t cared enough to be romantic.

No wonder Marissa had dumped him.

“Gotta get ready to go,” he mumbled, and booked it down the hall to his room.

Marc went to the rink, but Duncan didn’t. When Marc got there, the trainers all agreed he should have a rest day, so he hung out for a while as some of the guys did the light skate. Marc noted that Ronson hadn’t come. He didn’t have to, but it still bugged Marc. Something big was up with him.

When he got home, the incredible smell of roast beef filled the condo.

“Holy shit, that smells good,” he said as he entered the kitchen.

Lovey stood there peeling potatoes, wearing an apron with a picture of a puck on the front and the words “Puck you!” She beamed at him, and once again, the shiny warmth in that smile made all his problems fade into the background—worries about why the team kept losing, could they turn things around, was he doing something wrong, and what was up with Ronson. “Hi! It’s the roast beef I promised you.”

His stomach rumbled in anticipation. “Are those going to be mashed potatoes?” he asked hopefully. “With gravy?”

“Of course!”

“It smells garlicky.”

“Yes. This is my garlic and red wine roast beef and gravy recipe. It’s pretty popular.”

“Are you a chef?”

She blinked at him, then gave him a glowing smile. “No, but I like to cook. Did I tell you I signed up for a cooking lesson next week?”

“No. No, you didn’t.”

“Remember I said I need people to talk to? I have to get out more and meet new friends. And I like cooking and learning more about it, so I found this cooking school and signed up. Next week I’m making fresh spring rolls.”

She was unbelievable. Talk about embracing life. “That sounds good.”

“There’s another course coming up that I’d like to do. It’s how to match beer with food.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Like wines, but beer. Doesn’t that sound cool?”

“It actually does.”

“Maybe you can come with me. It’d be fun.”

Marc glanced at Duncan, sprawled out on the couch watching something. “Maybe.”

“It wouldn’t be like a date,” she said, catching his look. “Just us doing something together.”

Riiiiight. “Need any help?”

“How are you at peeling potatoes?”

“Not good, but I can give it a shot.”

“Okay, have at it.” She handed him the paring knife and stepped aside. “I need to do the carrots and beans.”

Once again, they were in the kitchen cooking together. And it was kinda nice.

The meal was fucking fantastic. He and Duncan consumed nearly the whole roast—it wasn’t that big—and all the mashed potatoes, smothered with unbelievably delicious gravy. The vegetables were fresh and crisp and she even had dessert—an apple pie, for fuck’s sake, that she’d made herself, but not just ordinary apple pie, an apple pie with caramel sauce poured over the crust, baked to a golden crisp.

“Your sister’s moving out at the beginning of January,” Marc stated at the end of the meal. “I think that might be a mistake.”

“I am having second thoughts now,” Duncan admitted, patting his flat abs.

Lovey grinned. “You can come to my place for dinner. Although…” Her smile went crooked. “My tiny kitchen isn’t going to be up for big fancy meals. But still.” She squared her shoulders. “It’ll be fine.”

“Where is this place?” Duncan asked. “I wish you’d waited until I was here to see it before you signed a lease. And let me see the lease, by the way. Wanna make sure you didn’t sign something you shouldn’t have.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“I know, I know, but…well, I guess it’s too late now.”

“It’s a nice place. Very small, but it’s the most I can afford. Nice neighborhood and not too far away.”

She filled them in on more details of what she’d done while they were away, including her night out with Jillian and her friends and the fact that the girls wanted to meet some of the team. “So sometime we’ll all have to go out together. Hey, do you guys know a gym I could join?”

“We pretty much work out at the arena,” Marc said. “But I’m sure there’s somewhere nearby.”

“I don’t want some girly place. I want to watch ripped guys lift weights.”

Marc choked and Duncan laughed.

“I’m kidding,” she said. “I also need to find a yoga studio.”

“Looked like you were doing okay here,” Marc pointed out.

“Yeah, I can do it on my own. But I need to meet people, remember?”

“Nobody’d ever mistake you for an introvert,” Duncan muttered.

This was true.

“We’ll do the dishes,” Marc said, after they finished off the bottle of Merlot. “You cooked, you don’t have to clean up.”

She gave him a long look, a flutter of her eyelashes that made his heart trip, then said demurely, “Thank you.”

What was that look for?

“Speak for yourself, man,” Duncan said. “I’m going out.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“Got a date,” Duncan muttered.

“Oh, Duncan! A date! With a girl?” Lovey blinked at him.

“Shut the fuck up.”

She grinned.

“You have time to help,” Marc said. “Get off your ass.”

“Fine.”

“Thanks, guys. I appreciate you cleaning up. I think I’ll go have a bubble bath,” Lovey announced. Marc closed his eyes and repressed a groan at images of her naked body submerged in frothy bubbles…Jesus. He started banging dirty pots into the sink.

Chapter 12

Lovey piled her hair up on her head with a clip and slid into the hot water. It closed around her in a warm, comforting embrace, steam scented with her favorite bath salts rising around her. Ah. Bliss.

With her tablet safely in a Ziploc bag, she read for a while, letting the hot water coax tension out of her muscles. Well, she tried to read. Her thoughts kept drifting away to Marc and the conversation they’d shared today.

Marissa. That was her name. Bitch. She wanted a fucking horse-drawn carriage ride? Not that that wasn’t nice. An over-the-top romantic gesture was lovely once in a while, but seriously? Breaking up with a guy because of that?

Clearly there was more to it than that. She’d caught the thoughtful look on Marc’s face. Had he been beating himself up about not being romantic enough?

True, he was pretty practical and serious. But that didn’t mean he had no romance in him.

Oh, how the hell would she know that? Why was she defending him in her mind? She shook her head and tried to focus on the romance novel she was trying to read.

A romantic gesture could just as easily be offering to clean up and do the dishes after she’d cooked a big meal. She sighed, distracted yet again.

Except there were no romantic feelings between them, so his gesture had just been thoughtful. Not romantic.

Gah.

She gave up on the book and washed with a sugar scrub to exfoliate, used a pumice stone on her feet, and shaved her legs. Finally she climbed out of the tub, dried off, and massaged body lotion into her skin in the same scent as the bath salts, her usual Cupcake line of body products, now one of her advertisers on her blog. She took a moment to massage moisturizer onto her face, then wrapped a towel around herself and headed back to her bedroom to change for bed.

She had barely opened the top drawer of her dresser to pull out her pajamas when she heard Marc yell. “Tabarnak de câlisse!”

Whoa, that didn’t sound good. She dropped the towel while she dug through her drawer, then straightened and stared at the door. Was he okay? She grabbed the towel and tried to get it over her naked body before she yanked the door open. Marc stood there, mouth agape.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay! Are you okay? What the fuck happened in there? It looks like a goddamn crime scene!”

She blinked and padded after him to the bathroom, only now noticing the trail of bloody marks on the floor. The bath mat had more blood, with some on the tile floor as well.

“Oh, fuck me running,” Marc groaned. He covered his eyes with one hand. “Are you having…oh Jesus.”

“No! I must have cut myself shaving!” she cried. She looked down at her legs. The towel slipped over her breasts as she twisted one knee forward, then the other, to look for the cut. There it was on the back of her right ankle, trailing bright red blood down to her heel. “See? It’s just a little nick.”

“Christ,” he said, relief in his tone. “But still…Jesus, Lovey. That’s a lot of blood!”

“It’s not that much. I’ll clean it up. Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s not the mess I’m worried about.”

“I’m fine. I didn’t even feel it. I’ll just put a Band-Aid on it.” She rushed to open the medicine cabinet. She’d seen bandages in there. Yes. In her reflection in the mirror, she saw the towel gaping low over her breasts, one nipple showing. “Gah!” She dropped the box of bandages and grabbed the towel. The bandages all spilled out into the sink. She glanced at Marc. His face was flushed, his eyes glittering. She sighed. Yep, he’d seen it all.

“Let me do it.” He reached for the bandages. “You hold the towel. Sit on the toilet.” He picked up one paper-wrapped bandage, opened it, and peeled off the two pieces of plastic.

She sat. She grabbed some toilet paper, balled it up, and handed it to him to run under water. He crouched before her and lifted her ankle. His hands looked so big and strong on her leg, which thankfully was smooth—albeit bloody. Oh yeah, that was attractive. What a loser she was.

He set her foot on the denim of his bent knee. As his gaze shifted upward, she became excruciatingly aware that with one foot propped on his knee, her thighs were now parted and the towel wasn’t covering much of them. She sucked briefly on her bottom lip as heat washed down through her, thinking about what he could see there. Probably not much…but he’d looked.

Now the air around them buzzed with tension and her insides went hot and soft.

He turned his attention back to her ankle. Gently, he swabbed the drying blood off her skin, then applied the bandage with tight pressure.

“There. That should stop it.” He still held her foot, the fingers of one hand applying pressure to the bandage, the fingers of his other hand rubbing over her instep, then the back of her calf. Up and down, in slow, mesmerizing strokes. Tingles spread all up her leg and converged in her pussy. Her heart fluttered. She swallowed, watching him touch her. He looked up at her and their eyes met.

She wasn’t going to beg him, but she didn’t hide from him that she wanted him. “Where’s Duncan?”

“He went out.” His voice was low and rough.

She nodded. Their eyes still held, both knowing what that meant. Heat built between them as they eyed each other. His hand still stroked her calf, cupping it in his palm. She’d been rejected once before so she hesitated to make the first move, but then she couldn’t help it, she was so drawn to him, overcome by hot lust, and she slid off the toilet and onto his lap. Only he might have pulled her off the toilet and onto his lap as he sat on the floor, because his arms wrapped around her right away and then they were kissing, their mouths homing in on each other with desperate precision. So she wasn’t really sure who made the first move, but that didn’t matter because his mouth was on hers, hard and hot and greedy.

She made a moany sound in her throat, slid her fingers into his short, thick hair, and kissed him back, hungry for the taste of him, her body desperate to feel his up against her. The towel forgotten, she let him squeeze her against his chest. His erection pressed against her hip.

She liked that. He was hard because of her. She more than liked that, she freakin’ loved that.

He groaned too and his tongue slid between her lips and into her mouth. Holy God, she was melting. Heat pulsed between her legs, a tight pull of desire building there. Her breasts ached and she pressed them harder against his chest.

His hands moved over her, exploring, sweeping up her back, then back down to a hip, her waist. She was vaguely aware the towel was bunched around her waist and she was essentially naked on his lap, and oh God, it felt good.

He sucked briefly on her tongue, giving her a little burst of heat down low inside, then licked her bottom lip and kissed her cheek and jaw. His stubble rasped against her skin and a thrill ran through her in hot squiggles. He nuzzled the side of her neck below her ear, opened his mouth on the skin there and sucked so gently, and the thrill escalated to a full-bodied shudder.

He was such a good kisser. God. His mouth was perfect, firm yet gentle, hot and just wet enough, his tongue strong and sexy.

Her head fell back, her fingers still playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, the skin there soft and smooth. With her eyes closed and her mouth open, she let him explore her with his hands and lips and tongue. He bit gently on her shoulder, then dragged his tongue along her collarbone. She leaned back in his embrace now, exposing her bare breasts, dying for him to touch her there.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “We’re gonna go there, aren’t we.” It wasn’t a question.

“Mmm.”

“The bathroom floor is not where I want to do this.”

“It’s a big bathroom. The rug is soft. Although the blood all over is a bit of a turnoff.”

His chuckle turned into a groan. “Câlisse, Lovey. Tu me rends fou.”

She didn’t know what that meant but it didn’t sound all bad. He sounded turned on. Hungry. And holy hell, he was speaking French and that…was…hot.

“Merci,” she whispered.

He choked on another laugh and his hands went to her waist. “Christ,” he muttered. “I can’t get up.”

“Ha-ha. I think you’re already up.”

He laughed again.

“C’mon, hockey boy, you fall down on the ice all the time.” She scrambled off him and set her hands on the toilet to push herself to stand. Then she reached a hand down to him, but he was already up, using the side of the bathtub to lever his big body off the floor.

“I do not fall all the time,” he objected. His gaze had gone past her and she realized he was looking at her in the mirror—the back of her. His hand curved over her ass and gave a gentle squeeze, pulling her closer, and he groaned again. “You have the sweetest little ass.”

Her skin tingled everywhere and her stomach swooped. “Thank you. I like yours too, what I’ve seen of it. How about you undress so I can see more of it?”

“Bedroom,” he growled. “Mine. Now.”

Whoa. Her pussy squeezed hard. She hadn’t seen this alpha caveman side of him and it worked for her. Really worked for her.

He didn’t let go of her, just turned her and held her hips as he nudged her out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into his bedroom.

He’d left the lamp beside the bed on, but the room was still dim and shadowy. She was not going to confess that she’d come in here when he’d been gone on the road trip, sat on his bed, and studied the room. She hadn’t snooped in anything personal—she’d just been intensely curious about him. And she’d missed him. His bedroom smelled like him, like the zesty men’s body wash and shampoo in the shower, which she’d also sniffed more than once, combined with his intrinsic male scent. He showered a lot, which she appreciated because she’d ridden in a minivan with stinky hockey equipment many times and knew only too well how horrifically bad that odor could be. But his scent was good, clean athletic male sweat and she loved it.

In the room, she turned into his arms and their mouths locked together again, hands all over each other, grabbing and rubbing. She went up on her toes and strained against him and then he lifted her, his hands on her bare ass, and with a squeak she wrapped her legs around his waist and held his shoulders. He walked to the bed.

In a smooth, graceful motion that impressed her with his strength, he set a knee on the mattress, then had her on the bed with him on top still between her legs. His weight was a sweet pressure on her body and she adored it. One of his big hands tried to slide into her hair and encountered the big plastic clip, but he had it pried open and tugged out of her hair in seconds. He tossed it aside and his fingers cupped her head, holding her in place for more kisses. More hot, drugging, melting kisses.

She needed skin, and her hands tugged at his T-shirt until she found it—hot, sleek skin. She pressed her palms against the muscles of his back as his tongue explored her mouth. Heat rushed through her body

“I just want to point out,” she gasped when his mouth had shifted to her throat, “I still can’t see your ass.”

He smiled against her skin. “I can’t see yours either.”

“But you did.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get to that. Fuck, Lovey. I wanna go slow, but damn, I’m in pain.”

“I know. Me too. Never mind slow. We can do slow next time. Just do it.”

“I’ve always believed in that motto.” He rolled off her, reached behind his head, and yanked his T-shirt off. There were the chest and abs she’d fantasized about since the day she’d arrived here and he’d walked out in his boxers. Her hands reached out of their own volition to touch, skimming over a taut pec and trailing down over ridged abs. He unzipped his jeans and lifted his hips to shove them and his boxers down over his thighs. When he kicked them off, powerful muscles bunched and flexed. Again she couldn’t resist touching, stroking her palm over a hairy thigh as he shoved off socks too.

Her eyes moved all over, taking him in, pausing at his heavy erection. He was a big man, so it shouldn’t have surprised her, but she did blink a couple of times at the thick girth and impressive length. He rolled away from her, finally giving her a view of his ass, just long enough for him to reach into the drawer beside his bed and grab something. On his back again, knees bent, he opened the small package and applied a condom. Good. That was good. She appreciated that very much. Especially since she got to watch his big hands holding his cock. Oh my fuck, that was sexy.

He reached for her and picked her up with such ease it made her heart flutter, holding her against him with one arm while his other hand yanked the bed covers down, then lowering her to the exposed sheets. He used one of his bare feet to push the covers aside even more so he could join her there.

He kissed her again, laying half on her, one big knee between her legs, his hand on her jaw. She circled her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Empty and aching, she needed more, needed him inside her. He’d said he was in pain and she was ready for him to just fuck her, but apparently he was still able to last a little longer, as he took his time feasting on her mouth, then shifting lower to her breasts.

Oh yes, oh God. He cupped her breasts and they swelled into his palms.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, studying them with a heated gaze that made her even hotter. He brushed his thumbs over her tight nipples, a sweet torment, then lowered his head to close his lips around one. He gave a gentle tug and sucked her deeper into his mouth. Her hips lifted with need as sparks shimmered from her nipple to her pussy.

“Oooooh.” She let out a soft sigh. “So good.”

He sucked both nipples until she was about to explode, her body quivering on the edge, her clit pulsing and begging to be touched. “Please,” she implored. “Please. Need you.”

“Mmm.” He kissed a nipple one last time. As he’d played there, he’d moved between her legs, his body heavy against hers. Her pelvis rocked into him in a helpless demand for what she needed. “Yeah. Need you too.” He pushed up onto his knees, spread wide, pushing her thighs apart, and reached for his cock.