by Kendall Ryan
I sigh into his kiss, opening my lips to his seeking tongue. A whimper escapes my throat when he brushes the outline of my ear with his fingers, and a current of electricity runs from the top of my head down to my toes.
Acting on instinct, I pull him on top of me, relishing the way his broad body covers mine. He’s careful not to crush me, but I don’t want careful. I lift my hips off the mattress to grind into his, his belt buckle brushing deliciously against my most tender spot. Grant releases a groan, dropping his lips to my neck. I allow my eyes to flutter closed, drunk on his hot breath against my sensitive skin.
“Please,” I whisper, when Grant’s lips pause against my skin in a moment’s doubt.
Please don’t stop now.
10
* * *
Hot and Heavy
Grant
This is not what I expected when I arrived home tonight.
First, finding Ana in my bed . . . then lying with her, holding her, comforting her. It should feel foreign, strange—wrong. But it doesn’t. It feels amazing. She fits against me perfectly, molding her slender body to mine, nestling herself in against my chest, like I alone have the power to ease her discomfort.
My intentions were innocent—at first.
When I saw her reaction to the storm, I only wanted to provide comfort. Although it’s out of the ordinary for me to play that role for someone, somehow it miraculously worked. Ana relaxed against me, her breathing evening out. But then she turned her face to mine and offered up those lips, and all my self-control unraveled.
Because kissing her . . .
God, it’s the perfect kiss. Wet and hot and searing.
It’s been so long since I’ve held a woman in my arms, had a woman in my bed . . . So, yeah, my body reacts, immediately hardening, even though I will it not to.
And then when Ana pulls me on top of her, all my reservations vanish like a bolt of lightning in the night sky.
I hover over her, my body caging hers beneath mine with my forearms balanced on the bed near her head. She’s so small, so fragile, and it takes some effort to keep the bulk of my weight from crushing her.
She makes a low noise of contentment, and my heart shudders. Knowing that she trusts me to care for her, that it’s my chest she’s buried herself into, that it’s me she wants comfort from? My chest gets so tight I can hardly breathe, and I press a soft kiss to her temple.
Settling myself over top of her, I tilt her chin to mine and deepen our kiss. Ana’s hips lift, seeking friction against mine. A gasp escapes her perfect mouth as my lips travel to her throat. She smells so good, and tastes even better.
Her hands ball into fists against my shirt, her pulse thrumming fast. She nuzzles right into the hollow of my throat, her smooth cheek brushing over my stubbled one.
She shifts, moving against me, and I swallow a groan when her fingers graze the growing bulge behind my zipper.
“Ana . . .” I rumble out the warning, barely breathing. She has to know she’s turning me on. Has to know this is too far. I have a gorgeous woman in my bed—something that hasn’t happened in a very long time. My self-control is far less reliable than I’d like right now.
I need to tell her to stop, need to put some distance between us. Of course, I do none of those things.
“Grant,” she murmurs, her lips touching my skin.
Fractures of heat flash through me and my cock stands at full salute. I groan as her pelvis rubs enticingly against mine.
“Tell me,” I say, leaning closer to brush my lips across her neck.
“I need you,” she whispers, trembling in my arms, but for an entirely different reason than before. Delicate hands push against my clothes, trying to work them open.
Her eyelids flutter closed as my brain screams at me to end this. But I won’t. I can’t. I’m too far gone to care that this is wrong. I’m powered now on blinding need and the thrill of discovering every inch of this beautiful girl.
Our mouths meet in a kiss that’s so hot and urgent, I groan out of relief. Ana’s tongue seeks entrance, and I devour her mouth with deep, drugging kisses that make me feel drunk.
“Tell me if you want to stop. We don’t have to do anything that . . .”
The words die in my throat and a deep rumble takes its place because Ana is undeterred, her hand pushing inside my dress pants. I forget how to breathe when it slips under the elastic of my boxer briefs. I’m hard as a fucking rock, and there’s not a thing I can do about that.
“Wait, sweetheart, wait . . .” Fuck.
Her touch is electric, and I shiver at the contact. It’s been a really long time since someone other than me has touched my dick.
“Do you not want to?” she asks on a strained exhale.
She’s lovely. And beautiful. Of course I want to.
“Are you kidding? Do whatever you want to me.”
“Oh God . . .” She moans as her fingers curl around my shaft.
My chest shudders at the contact of her delicate palm stroking me, and again at the sound of the whispered curse tumbling from her perfect mouth.
“Grant, you’re so big,” she murmurs, her breath coming out in quick puffs against my throat. “Please. I need this. I need you.”
Throwing common sense out the fucking window, I move, changing our positions so I’m lying beside her. I need to see her eyes. Need to know what she’s thinking. Need to be sure this is okay.
“You sure this is what you want?” My words are little more than a harsh pant.
Her mouth is nuzzling the stubble on my jaw in the most distracting way ever. “So much.”
Jesus. How can I be expected to think with anything but the head below my belt?
I want her. From the first moment I laid eyes on Ana a year ago at a Hawks game, I’ve wanted her. As wrong as that was, especially because she was in the WAGs box at the time. She was taken. By one of my own damn teammates. And still, I wanted her.
Does that make me a douche? Maybe, but I never acted on it. Never showed even a flicker of interest toward her. Not when I first shook her hand, not when I made small talk with her at a charity event several months later, not when I drove her home for the first time after Jason had a meltdown at our friends’ going-away party, and not even when I gave her a ride home from the start-of-the-season banquet. My one faux pas? Giving her my phone number. But even that was innocent. I had the strange suspicion that there might come a day when Ana needed a hand.
But now?
Now that she’s pushing her lower body against mine in a slow grind—it’s game over. I’m done. I can’t resist her any longer. Nothing and no one is standing in our way now. We’re just two adults with a whole lot of chemistry and pent-up sexual desire.
I bring my mouth to hers again and capture her lips in a slow, sweet kiss. Ana’s tongue reaches out to confidently stroke against mine. When I run one hand along the side of her rib cage and stop at her breast, she moans. I pinch her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she jolts, her pelvis bumping into mine urgently as we lie side by side.
“Please,” she whispers against my lips.
Working my fingers into the side of her sleep shorts, I find her wet for me already. Although I only meant to tempt, to tease, when she lets out a long, breathy groan, I sink two fingers into her warm heat. Her voice goes molten, her moan melting like warm honey as her pliable body accommodates me.
“Yeah. There,” she whispers, shuddering against me.
I can’t get enough of touching her. The sounds she’s making. The way she feels in my arms.
Lifting her off the bed for a second, I pull her shorts and panties down her hips until she can shimmy out of them. Ana unbuttons my pants and I begin working on my shirt. Soon we’re both naked, and fuck, I’m going to embarrass myself. She’s so sexy and gorgeous, and also so small. I’ll need to be careful.
But Ana’s not careful. Not with the way she pulls at my shoulders until I’m on top of her again, not with the way she kisses me or gri
nds herself against my hard cock. I can feel how wet she is, and my entire body shudders.
Eagerly, she grasps me in her right hand and guides me to her center. At my hesitation, she whimpers. “Please.” And then she’s gripping my ass muscles as I thrust forward.
Overcome by a kick of desire so fierce, I have no choice but to respond.
I may be the one on top, but Ana is the one calling the shots. With her murmured praise, she directs me. With her body’s response to my hard, deep thrusts and her cries of pleasure, she lets me know when I find the right spot. The electrified gasp she makes when my fingers find her clit urges me on.
With each slow, even stroke, Ana loses her self-control. She moans and tilts her hips to erase any remaining distance between us, and I can’t get enough. She feels so good. Wet and hot and wonderful.
Her breath comes faster against the hollow of my throat until she comes apart, quaking beneath me and clinging to my shoulders with a final soft cry of pleasure.
A couple more pumps and I follow her over the edge, emptying myself inside her.
Afterward, I hold her and wait for regret to come. But it doesn’t. There’s only a deep sense of satisfaction and an unfamiliar softness inside my chest.
That was fucking intense. And perfect. And so hot.
The feelings of regret come later. Or more specifically, in the morning when I wake and find the bed next to me empty.
11
* * *
Time to Focus on Me
Ana
Standing in front of the guest bathroom mirror and wearing nothing but a towel, I take in my flushed cheeks and tangled hair.
Last night was unexpected, and yeah, a little crazy, I can see that now. It was hot and passion-filled, and at the same time, tender. More tender than I expected sex to be with such a huge, brooding man.
But Grant’s body moved with the confidence of an experienced lover, wringing every last ounce of pleasure from me before finally letting himself go—with a delicious low-sounding grunt and a deep rumbling groan. The feel of his stubble against my skin, the way his teeth grazed my neck right before he climaxed . . . His big body positioned over mine, his impressive length stretching me with a welcome sting. The memory of it makes my inner muscles clench in tribute to how amazing the sex was.
All I wanted in that moment was for him to erase every ugly memory that had clouded my brain over the past week. And I was so greedy, taking first the comfort that he offered, and then pleasure. So much pleasure, it was blinding—all consuming. The best sex of my life, which I try not to focus on because I’m not sure it’s ever going to happen again.
Sex with Jason was good. But there was nothing merely good with sleeping with Grant.
First, he’s huge—everywhere. I shiver even now at the memory of reaching beneath the elastic of his boxers for the first time. And second, he was so confident, so sure. The way he moved. The way he kissed me. With complete control and laser focus.
Dear God. I suck in a huge breath, ignoring the way my lower half tingles without my permission.
Okay, stop it, Ana. Nothing good can come from this. It was a one-time thing.
Grant’s been so kind to me, a good friend. I’m not going to use him as some meaningless rebound fling. And heaven knows I’m certainly not ready for something more serious than that, anyway.
I need to take the next few months as me time, time to clear my head and focus on myself, and that doesn’t include jumping into the bed of my ex’s teammate—no matter how deliciously sexy he is. But being near Grant makes my stomach knot with something hot and urgent. I’m confused about a lot of things, but my attraction to him isn’t one of them.
Which is why I’ll need to be extra vigilant about making sure we stay in the friend zone from here on out.
With that decision made, I feel more at ease, more clearheaded than I have in days. I run my brush through my hair, the first step to trying to put myself back together.
It’s easier said than done.
12
* * *
Out of Practice
Grant
After spending the night with Ana in my bed, I awake in the morning to rumpled sheets and her scent on the pillow. She’s gone.
I keep myself busy most of the day, first with a team skate, and then by dropping off a couple of bags filled with groceries at the local homeless shelter like I do every week. I consider going back to the store for even more groceries, but I can’t stay out of my apartment forever.
I might be avoiding going home. Okay, I am. But I shouldn’t have slept with Ana last night, and that’s become glaringly obvious in the light of day.
But when I saw her huddled in my bed last night, her face tense in sleep, it twisted something inside me. I’ve seen guys unconscious on the ice after a brutal hit, seen players with broken bones and concussions and all types of serious injuries. But I’ve never seen someone look so helpless and desperate in their sleep.
The urge to crawl into bed beside her and hold her, even before she invited me to, was a sharp pulse of need. It goes without saying that I have no idea what I’m doing, because I’m not the guy you go to for emotional support or cuddling comfort. But for Ana, all I want in the world is the chance to see her smile again.
Deciding I can’t stay away any longer, I turn my car toward home and dial Coach on the drive there.
“Hey, Grant,” he says, answering on the first ring. It’s almost like he was expecting me to call. Then again, maybe he was. We said we’d touch base today.
“Hey, Coach.” I clear my throat, deciding to cut right to the chase rather than waste time on pleasantries. “Any word on Kress?”
“Actually, yeah, there’s been a change.”
When he hesitates for a moment, I’m suddenly terrified that he’s going to tell me they’ve lifted the suspension and reinstated the abusive prick. If that happens, my days of being captain of this team will come to a swift and unfortunate ending. Because I’ll be the one getting suspended, since I’m pretty sure physical violence against a teammate is frowned upon. And I’ve just been waiting for an excuse to beat Kress’s ass from here to next Sunday.
Finally, Coach continues, and the next words out of his mouth are the last ones I expect. “He’s been sent down.” Which means he’s being moved to our affiliate team in Wisconsin, two thousand miles away. Holy shit.
The news hits me like a fist to the sternum. Elation and relief settle over me, along with a sense of calm I haven’t felt since this entire mess started. Maybe this will all turn out okay. Maybe Ana will get the fresh start she deserves.
“Copy that. Thanks for the update.”
“Sure thing. Anything else?”
“Do you think she should, ah, press charges?” I say after a pause.
Rather than telling me to mind my own business like I half expect him to, Coach launches into a lengthy explanation about a conversation he had with the team lawyer. Apparently, even if Ana were willing to press charges, cases like this rarely go anywhere. Which is, of course, utter bullshit.
“It’s up to her, of course,” he says. “Just giving you my two cents.”
With a defeated sigh, I grunt my acknowledgment. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Anytime. Talk to you soon, Grant.”
We end the call just as I reach my building. After parking in the garage, I make my way upstairs.
“Hello?” I call out into the empty condo. Hobbes runs over to greet me, but Ana’s nowhere to be found. She must still be at work.
I obsessed over seeing her today, purposely staying out of my own home all day, and she’s not even here. Figures.
After taking Hobbes out, I check the time. It’s almost six. I’m not sure what shift Ana might have been working today, or when to expect her, but decide to go ahead and order us dinner. She could have plans with her friend . . . hell, she could have gone back to her ex for all I know. It’s a thought that stings more than I want it to.
After ordering a co
uple of pizzas and a spinach salad, I toss my phone on the couch and wait. It’s not long before Ana arrives, placing her purse onto the counter as she enters.
“Hey,” she says in a cheery voice, meeting my eyes.
“Hey,” I say back, my voice a little hoarse.
She opens her mouth to say something more, but the sound of the intercom buzzing distracts her.
“I ordered pizza,” I say, pressing the button to grant the delivery person access to the building.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” she says. “I’ll just take Hobbes out, and then—”
I hold up one hand. “Already taken care of.”
Ana’s mouth twitches with a smile. “You’re too nice to me. Have I told you that already?”
Shaking my head, I chuckle at her. What was I so worried about earlier? Things don’t feel any different between us. Unless you count the buzzing attraction I’m trying hard to ignore.
“It was nothing.”
“Then I guess I’ll go change and wash up for dinner.”
I nod. “Sounds like a plan.”
Wearing her usual work outfit of yoga pants and a shirt with the spa’s logo, she heads off to change.
I’m not sure if I should address the elephant in the room and apologize for last night, but so far, Ana doesn’t seem upset or bothered by the thing we did last night, so I stay quiet.
By the time she returns dressed in a different pair of yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt, I’ve got the pizza boxes open and two plates on the counter. She puts out a bowl of dog food for Hobbes, which he attacks with gusto.
“Help yourself,” I say, nodding toward the spread on the counter.
“Thanks.” She grins before taking a slice of each kind of pizza and a large portion of the salad.
We settle in side by side on my couch and dig into our food.
