by Rebel Hart
William clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Sounds good. How can I help?”
“From where I’m standing you’ve done your part. But if you want to help with the pizza, feel free.”
He followed me back into the house, where we stood shoulder to shoulder at the counter while we sprinkled the remaining ingredients on our pizza: mushrooms, green peppers, onions, and pepperoni. I drizzled a bit of hot sauce on my side and William scrunched his nose up at me. Teasing, I put some on my finger and held it up.
“Don’t be a baby, Hughes. It’s just hot sauce.”
“Get that away from me. I have a sensitive stomach.”
“Don’t blame your stomach. You just have no balls.”
His eyebrows crept upward. Then, quick as lightning, he grabbed my wrist, jerked me forward, and sealed his lips around my hot sauce-covered finger.
He smiled coyly with my finger in his mouth. I could feel the warm, wet press of his tongue. The suction of his lips.
I blinked.
He released me and licked his lips. “Yep. Just as I thought. Disgusting.”
Disgusting isn’t the word I’d choose for it, I thought, still acutely aware of his saliva on my finger.
William popped the oven open and slid the pizza onto the middle rack. When he closed it I was washing my hands in the sink.
“I don’t have cooties,” he said morosely.
“A girl can never be too safe.”
William cocked his head to the side. “Do you think I’m dangerous?”
To me? Yes.
“Of course not,” I said.
His eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re sure about that?”
I hesitated.
He threw his head back and laughed. Then he rubbed at his chest absently. “I’m just screwing with you, Kim. You make it too easy sometimes. You’re just like your brother.”
“I am not,” I said defensively. The last thing I wanted was the guy I had a crush on comparing me to my older—and dumber—brother.
I caught myself in my train of thought. The guy I have a crush on?
“Jesus,” I muttered.
“What is it?” William asked.
“Nothing,” I said hurriedly.
He set the timer on the stove and took my word for it. Then we stood there in the kitchen, neither of us knowing what to do next.
“Well,” I said, “I know you’re not much of a drinker but I think I’m going to help myself to one of my dad’s beers. It’s been a hell of a couple days and I could use something to take the edge off. You want one?”
He shook his head. “I’m good. Thanks.”
As soon as the beer passed my lips I felt better. Lighter. I took a few more greedy gulps as William turned his back on me and peered through the window of the oven. He let out a deep rumble in the back of his throat that didn’t make it any easier for me to not objectify him.
Was I feeling this way because of who he was now? Was I falling into that category of people he’d told me about? The ones whose intentions he could never be sure of? The ones who liked how they looked when they were with William because he was an NHL star?
No, I told myself. It wasn’t that. I knew who William was at his core. I’d practically grown up with him in my life. I’d seen him at his best and I’d seen him at his worst, and I liked him, even in those darkest of times—even if I still thought he had a tendency to be a little egotistical.
What was more important was how I felt about myself when I was with him. When I had William’s company, the little voice inside my head was much quieter. She didn’t pick me apart. She didn’t remind me every five minutes that I had a busted knee and no prospects and no future. She hardly said a word. She was still. And I was the one calling the shots. I didn’t worry about my friends rushing toward their future of success while I stayed behind in Long Grove doing the same thing over and over hoping things would magically change on their own.
I was content to just be. And that was an incredibly refreshing change of pace for me.
While we waited for the pizza to finish cooking, I decided to run upstairs and change into warmer clothes. The night was getting cooler with every passing minute so I opted for a pair of fleece pajama pants and a pullover. I pulled on a pair of thick socks and slid my feet into my slippers, and then went back downstairs to join William in the kitchen as the timer went off and he was pulling the pizza out of the oven. Excess cheese bubbled and the kitchen immediately smelled like an Italian restaurant.
“Fuck me up,” I mumbled, rubbing my growling belly.
William laughed and found us some plates, which we loaded up with slices of steaming pizza. Once we had our food in hand, we moved out to the yard and settled onto our butts on the blanket he’d set out. William picked up his phone where it rested on the projector stand and gave me three movies to choose from: a comedy, a thriller, and a drama.
I opted for the comedy. It didn’t seem to surprise him at all.
William fanned his mouth after his first bite of pizza. “That’s hot. Holy shit. That’s really hot.”
“No kidding. It just came out of the oven, silly.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Me too. But I have this little thing called self control. You should try it sometime.”
He shot me a look. “You have no idea how much self control I have.”
I snickered. “Uh huh. Sure.”
“You laugh. But it’s true.”
Right. What sort of self control might a guy like him ever possibly have to exercise? He had access to anything and everything he could want. Dream cars. Luxury homes. Beautiful women. Travel.
The world was his oyster. What did he know about self control?
“You don’t believe me,” William said.
I hadn’t realized he was watching me even though the opening scene was playing on the sheet. I shrugged. “Honestly? No. I don’t. Not really.”
He set his plate of pizza down and leaned back, falling onto his side and then propping himself up with an elbow on the blanket and his head in his hand. “Why?”
How was I supposed to answer that question?
I frowned and thought about it. Finally, I spoke. “I think you don’t have many reasons to have to exercise self control.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then tell me one.”
He studied me. “You really can’t think of anything I might be holding myself back from?”
I shook my head. “No. I can’t. You’re William Hughes. You could have anything you wanted.”
He sighed and rolled onto his back, where he slid his hands under his head. His biceps bulged under the sleeves of his Henley. “Just because you want something doesn’t mean you automatically get it, Kim,” he said. “That goes for no matter who you are.”
I rolled my eyes at him before lying down beside him. “How philosophical of you.”
He smiled.
So did I. Then I continued eating my pizza. When I was done I grabbed one of the folded blankets and fanned it out, draping it over my lap. Some of it fell across William’s legs. He didn’t say anything and neither did I as we propped ourselves up against the pillows he’d brought out and got cozy to watch the rest of the movie.
At the halfway point my eyelids were heavy. I was so toasty warm under the blankets. William’s body heat radiated off of him and I couldn’t help but try to snuggle in a little closer every couple minutes without actually touching him, even though I desperately wanted to. I wanted to rest my cheek on his shoulder. I wanted him to wrap an arm around me and pull me in. I wanted to know what it was like to share a romantic night under a blanket with a man like him.
Who was I kidding?
I wanted to know more than just what it would be like to cuddle under a blanket with him. I wanted to know what it would feel like to have his hands roaming across my naked flesh, to have his lips crushing against mine as he pinned me beneath his powerful body.
Get a grip, Kim. He d
oesn’t see you that way. If he did, he would have done something about that kiss the other day.
I gnawed on my lip and watched him out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t help myself. He was too beautiful not to admire.
22
William
She was staring at me. I could feel the heat of her gaze and I wasn’t oblivious to the way she’d managed to inch herself closer to me over the past fifteen or so minutes. Keith’s voice rang in the back of my head warning me to keep my hands off his sister, but my own internal voice spoke louder.
Kiss her.
She wanted it. I wanted it. What was the sense of pretending otherwise?
Simple.
There wasn’t any.
I rolled over to face her. Kim backpedaled and tried to put some space between us by shimmying upward on her pillow. I followed, propping myself with an elbow wedged into the center of my own pillow, and reached out to put a hand on her hip.
Her eyes fell on my hand, but she didn’t move.
Kim wasn’t one of the girls I’d hooked up with over the course of my hockey career, the blond-haired blue-eyed bombshells who threw themselves at me on a regular basis and pleaded for me to take them home. Kim was different. She was special. And I knew I had to handle this right; otherwise I was going to fuck things up for good, and I couldn’t risk that, because her family was also my family and if I didn’t have them in my life I wouldn’t have much of a life at all.
Her breath hitched in her throat as I crept higher up the pillows and brought my face up to hers. I could smell her perfume, floral and soft and warm. She hesitated when I moved in closer, so close that our knees were touching and her lips were only inches from mine.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the other day.”
She broke eye contact and looked down. “I know. It was terrible. I keep replaying it in my head too, but—”
“No.” I pressed two fingers under her chin and lifted her face so I could look her in the eyes. “I keep thinking about how you kissed me.”
Her cheeks flared pink. She swallowed. “Oh.”
“Can I kiss you again?”
Cheeks still pink, she smiled. “Are you asking for consent, Hughes?”
“I am,” I said.
She pinched her bottom lip between her teeth. “Damn. That’s sexy.”
“Is that a yes?”
“You really won’t kiss me unless I say yes?”
I groaned. I’d given her too much power. Leave it to Kim to hold it over my head the second she realized she had the upper hand. Even so, I found it endearing. “I won’t kiss you unless you say yes.”
“Hmm,” she mused. Somehow her eyes sparkled in the dark backyard. “And if I say no?”
“Then me and my crushed ego will have to sulk back into the house and hope that you change your mind.”
Kim giggled. Then she pressed one hand to my chest and let it wander up to the collar of my Henley, which she gently nudged aside so she could trail her fingers over the bare skin of my chest. “Do you really think I could say no, Hughes?”
It wasn’t an out-and-out ‘yes,’ but I had a feeling she was going to string me along even longer, so I threw caution to the wind, cupped her cheek with my hand, and met her halfway. Our lips crashed together. A soft moan escaped her and I drew her bottom lip between mine, suckling gently before pressing my tongue between her teeth and exploring her with desperate curiosity.
Kim’s hand slipped under my shirt. Her cold fingers traced my chest and then moved up to my neck and jaw. I caught her wrist and rolled on top of her.
Kim smiled breathlessly up at me. “I don’t recall saying yes, Hughes.”
“Woman,” I growled, “if you continue to tease me like this I’m going to—”
“What?” she challenged, lips curled in a coy little smile. “You’re going to what?”
I chuckled.
Kim pressed against my chest with her free hand, still playfully trying to provoke me. Her eyebrow arched in a taunt. “I’m waiting.”
I descended upon her for more greedy kisses. As my tongue slid against hers I captured her other wrist with my free hand and drew both of her arms up over her head, where I pinched her wrists together in one of mine. She struggled, but she had thin wrists and ankles, and I had big hands. She wasn’t getting away from me. Her breathless giggles morphed into sensual sighs when I trailed my lips away from hers and down her neck and then lower, peppering kisses across her collarbones and the neckline of her sweater.
With my free hand I began inching her sweater upward. Her hips rolled and she tested my grip on her wrists, finding it unyielding.
“Let me go,” she whimpered.
“No.”
“So consent goes out the window just like that?”
I grinned against her flesh as I worked her sweater up over her breasts. Underneath she was wearing a skin tight black tank top that was cut low, exposing her cleavage. I pinched the supple skin between my teeth and reveled in the soft coos she made.
“You don’t want me to stop,” I said.
“Cocky bastard.”
“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll stop.”
Kim held her tongue.
“Good girl,” I growled.
She lifted her hips to mine.
Maybe not so good, I mused as I used my teeth to pull her tank top down, revealing a black athletic bra with a gray strap around her ribs. It was cut low with criss-cross straps over her cleavage, and I knew I was going to need both hands to get it off her, and holy hell, did I want to get it off her.
Immediately.
“Now what?” she purred.
I met her playful eye. “Don’t move,” I instructed.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
She was a liar and we both knew it. But I released her wrists anyway. Much to my surprise, she kept her hands above her head, and she watched as I cupped her breasts in both hands and pushed them together, marvelling at the way her cleavage swelled. She was taut and firm and supple; the perfect handful.
I slid my fingers under the gray band and pulled down. Her breasts spilled out over the top. They were perky as hell and her nipples were hard, daring me to suck them. I obeyed. Kim moaned. I flicked my tongue over her nipples, taking my time with each one, all the while working one hand down her side to her hip, where I slid it beneath her leggings to cup her ass. That was firm, too. Of course it was. She wasn’t a girl I’d met at a club. Kim was an athlete. She was strong.
My cock was harder than ever in my jeans.
She broke my order of keeping her hands over her head and pulled her sweatshirt off. I let it fly. She left her bra pulled down under her breasts and then began shimmying her leggings down her hips and thighs. They got caught up around her knees and I caught her wrists again and brought them back over her head. This time she didn’t have any clever things to say. Her lips parted in a breathless sigh as she reached up to kiss me. I teased her, letting her lips graze mine only briefly before reaching down and rubbing her over her panties.
Her eyes rolled back.
She was so fucking sexy.
She let her legs fall open in an invitation for more.
I obliged by sliding my hand under her black panties. Kim rolled her hips as if reaching for my fingers. I grazed her clit. She sighed. Then I moved down and stroked her wetness, rubbing her juices all over her to make her smooth pussy a playground for my fingers.
When I finally eased a finger inside her, she sank heavily into the pillow. She stopped straining against my grip on her wrists and gave in. It was a smart move, really. She wouldn’t have been able to keep that shit up forever. Not with what I planned on doing with this perfect body of hers.
Kim was all lean muscle. Her stomach was carved, her shoulders and arms defined, the veins in her hands standing to attention as her blood rushed through her body. Her thighs, the most powerful thing on her, quivered as I pressed anothe
r finger inside her.
She was so fucking tight.
I told her so by whispering in her ear.
She shuddered. So did I.
“Harder,” she pleaded.
I gave her what she wanted.
Now she strained; she pulled desperately at her wrists and I tightened my grip. If it hurt her, she didn’t seem to care, because her hips rose and her back arched and her lips parted in the most delicious cry of pleasure I’d ever heard. I silenced her with my mouth over hers to spare the neighbors having to hear us. Kim sighed into the kiss and nipped at my lips as I worked my fingers in and out of her. She was even wetter after her climax and I didn’t know how much longer I would be able to keep it together.
“Do you have a condom?” she cooed.
I shook my head. “Not on me.”
“Let’s go inside. My bedroom.” Her words were clipped and short.
My fingers were still inside her. I didn’t want to leave this spot. But I also didn’t want to only fool around. I wanted inside her. Now.
So I helped her pull her leggings back up and her sweater down, and then I got to my feet, holding up my hand to her. She took it and led me across the lawn, abandoning our evening picnic and movie to the crickets and mosquitos. By the time we passed through the patio doors, Kim was giggling. She led me up the stairs and then ducked into her room, where she spun to face me as she pulled her sweater over her head. Then she stripped out of her leggings and bra and stood before me in nothing but her panties.
“Your turn,” she said breathlessly.
My shirt came off first. Then my jeans. Then my boxers.
Kim eyed my dick as I stroked myself, and then her gaze flicked up to lock on to mine. “Damn, Hughes,” she breathed. “You might have to take it easy on me with that thing.”
“No promises.”
She went to her nightstand and opened the drawer, from which she pulled out a condom. She twirled it between her fingers and put her back to me, then went to her knees on the bed, arching her back and sticking her ass in the air for me. She looked back over her shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”
I hadn’t expected this. Kim was bold in the bedroom. Really bold.
