by Lynda Aicher
His erection pointed directly to her sex. Neatly trimmed but not shaved—another thing he loved. It was impossible not to run a finger through her folds. Wet heat met his fingertip and he drew it up to trace around her piercing. Close, but not touching it. Her rumbled sigh was timed with the thrust of her hips. Damn, she was so sexy.
He sucked in a breath and was hit with the musky scent of her previous climaxes. Her clit was a swollen hard nub when he finally ran his finger over it, rubbed until she gasped. Eyelids half lowered, lips parted to release haggard breaths, that was how he wanted her.
Desperate for him and the release he could give her.
He paused long enough to roll on the condom then inched forward to tease her with the head of his cock. He nudged her clit, rolled it under his tip then stroked his length through her heat. Their moans filled the room in unison. His head fell forward, eyes closing at the rush of exotic sensation that raced up his dick. Tempered only a little by the latex, the teasing was sweet torture for him too.
She scrambled to grab his hips, nails digging in to grip him. “God, please.” Her soft plea was his undoing.
He yanked his eyes open to watch as he slowly sank into her. His groan was pure ecstasy. Her warmth engulfed him, pulled him in until he was surrounded by her tight channel.
It was unbelievably amazing. Twenty-two months of abstinence only enhanced the sensation. How had he forgotten how great this felt?
He dropped forward to sink deeper, eyes holding hers. Dark with her desire, the chocolate depths trapped him. “You feel incredible,” he whispered, not wanting to break the moment with loud words.
“You do too,” she agreed.
He slid out then back in on a measured pace that let him experience every heated clench over his length. Her mouth dropped open with her silent gasp, one that matched his own. Pleasure surrounded him, fired through him to scorch him from the inside.
She tugged him down into a demanding kiss that she controlled. He couldn’t hold still against the need to drive into her. Claim her like she was doing to him. He tried to keep his pace slow, let the need build, but it was impossible.
He ached for release, and each drive became harder, determined to reach that peak. She dropped her head back, panting for breath as she gripped his shoulder and nape then wrapped her feet around his hips, pulling him closer. Deeper.
Oh. My. God. It was better than he’d dreamed.
Her sweet sounds of pleasure filled his ears, along with the rhythmic slap of skin on skin. For once he wasn’t thinking of his knee or hockey or his unknown future. None of it mattered compared to the gorgeous woman beneath him.
He chased his orgasm, pounding harder when it tightened in his balls, fired up his spine. God, please. He needed it so badly.
“Scott.” Rachel’s breathy cry almost did it. Her legs tightened around his sides, heels digging into his ass. “I’m gonna...”
Yeah. He could give her that.
Altering his pace just a touch, he shifted to reach between them, found her clit and rubbed it. She jerked, arched and shattered in a clenching spasm of muscles. Her hoarse exclamation was his cue to let go.
To come.
Now. Fucking right now. It was right there. So close. It burned through his groin, that aching tension that signaled the pending explosion.
Only he didn’t.
Fucking hell.
He pumped into her, eyes clenched with the fevered pleas that raced through his mind. Please, please, please. Skin clammy with his effort, he strained against the denial and tried to force his climax out. Grunted and fought along with his silent frantic begging until reality slowly sunk in.
It wasn’t going to happen. Again.
Shit. Fucking, damn it all to hell.
He gave three hard thrusts, grunting with his effort, then ground into her, groaning out his fake release. One that was pure frustration, only she didn’t know that.
It wasn’t her fault. Not even a bit.
He’d thought for sure it’d happen this time. With her. He’d been so damn hopeful...
He let his muscles go limp after that. Panting into her neck to hide his shame. What kind of man couldn’t fucking come?
His erection was a heavy weight where it was still buried inside her. A blazing declaration of his inadequacy. With a kiss to her shoulder, he pulled out before she could say anything. A glance showed her eyes closed, chest still heaving, a blissed-out smile curling her lips.
He rolled off the bed, careful to block his issue in case she opened her eyes and shuffled to the attached bath. He dropped his head to the tile wall the second he cleared her sight. What in the fuck was wrong with him?
Two years this had been going on, and the only answer the doctors had was to come off the meds. The ones that kept him skating. Right.
With another curse, he rolled the condom off his dick and crammed it into a tissue. He’d figured out how to cover the evidence of his issue long ago. It’d only taken one pitying look from a hookup to teach him the art of the fake.
And only a few more times after that to learn that forgoing it completely was better than pretending. But being buried deep within Rachel had been so damn nice...
His hands were shaking when tossed the tissue into the trash. It went with the clammy chill that covered his skin. Shit. Pain spiraled out from his knee with his adrenaline crash. He regretted the lighter dose of meds he’d opted for earlier. It hadn’t helped with his ejaculation issue and now it would take even more pills to balance the pain out.
He fumbled with a drawer, hand slipping on the edge before he got it open. Thankfully, the bag was already open. He’d probably rip the damn plastic in half it he had to unseal it.
He popped two in his mouth, swallowed and repeated with one more. He gripped the edge of the counter, arms still shaking. The long, slow breaths he sucked in helped—some. His erection was finally starting to go down. The cold air assisted, as did the influx of pain that fired up his inner thigh. At least the pain was good for something.
A splash of cold water on his face held back the sudden wave of nausea that spun in his stomach. Fuck. He had to get his shit together. Rachel didn’t deserve his drama.
His entire body seemed to ache when he shuffled to the toilet. Taking a piss was one sure way of getting rid of the last of his hard-on. Another splash of cold water on his heated cheeks when he washed his hands improved his focus.
He took another moment to remove his knee brace then paused at the doorway to ensure his jitters were under control. His dick was sufficiently flaccid, and the meds should kick in before long.
A peek into the room showed Rachel tucked under the covers, head canted his way with her eyes closed. Could he be so lucky that she’d fallen asleep?
Her lips were red and slightly puffy, and he longed to kiss them more. Despite his lack of execution, he still wanted to curl up behind her and hold her all night. It’d been even longer since he’d woken next to anyone.
His footsteps were silent on the carpet. His knee gave him away though. The snap and pop when he took the last step to reach the nightstand cracked through the silence. Her eyes flew open right before he flicked the light off.
“There you are,” she murmured. “Everything okay?”
Thank God she couldn’t see the sarcastic shake of his head. “I’m fine. You?” He felt his way around the bed, the shadows lightening as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Do you need me to take you back to Rock’s place?” It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he had to ask.
“Is it okay that I stay?”
He caught the hesitation in her voice as he slid under the covers and he hated that he’d put it there. His own insecurities were causing hers. Another failure on his part.
His sigh was deep and draining when he lay back. “Yes.” He looped an arm around her and hauled her to his side. “I want you to be right here.” The truth of that sunk into his chest and relaxed through his muscles.
She curled into his
side, head resting on that soft spot between his shoulder and pecs. The warmth of her soothed into him as she wrapped her leg between his. He could really get used to this. Longed to get used to it.
The fruity scent of her shampoo was a comforting beacon of home and family. He’d given up on having that for so long it was almost impossible to envision it. But with Rachel he could. Easily.
Too easily.
A light euphoria wound up his spine in a telling signal he knew so well. He closed his eyes and let the drugs float through him in a languid flow of diminished pain and rising confidence. There was no reason why he couldn’t have her and the life he’d replaced with hockey.
Would retiring from the sport give him that? Or would he lose her like he’d lost his fiancée if he didn’t have that fame attached to him? Rachel didn’t come across as being that shallow, but the old doubts and lessons were hard to shake. And that was exactly why he was alone and miserable now.
“Sorry I drifted off earlier.” Her breath floated over his chest to caress his nipple in a mildly erotic way. “But you wore me out.” The stretch of her jaw and resulting sounds of her yawn backed up her declaration.
An element of pride expanded his chest. It was dampened though by the knowledge of his ulterior motive for pleasuring her to exhaustion. Did it really matter when he’d ensured her satisfaction?
“I’d say I was sorry,” he murmured, “but it’d be a lie.”
He hugged her tight, pressed a kiss to her head and inhaled the comfort she unknowingly provided by just being there. How did he explain to her—to himself—how nice it was to simply have her wrapped around him, knowing she’d still be there when he woke?
Her puff of laughter was soft and short. “I think I owe you.”
“Never.” His instance was sparked by a shot of panic. She’d laugh and leave if she ever discovered his issue. “I love making you come.”
Her knee was nuzzled up to his sac, thigh heating his limp cock. He squeezed his eyes tight and breathed through the stirring of desire that fired in his groin.
“But—”
“It’s fine,” he cut her off, tilting her chin up so he could press a kiss to her lips. “I swear.” He held her gaze in the darkness, not really seeing but hoping she understood his sincerity.
“We’ll see about that,” she said before laying her head back down. “But thank you.” Her light kiss to his chest soothed some of his rising worry.
“Do you need to be up early?” He wrapped both arms around her, letting the other topic go.
“No.”
“Good.” Maybe she’d stay long enough to distract him from the pending noon announcement. The one that was certain to send his life into chaos.
Chapter Eleven
“Here are the peppers and carrots,” Rachel said, setting the knife down. She handed the cutting board with the diced vegetables over to Scott, who added them to the salad he was assembling. “What else do you need?” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and glanced around his spacious kitchen.
He flipped two chicken breasts on his stovetop grill, flashing a grin. “You can get some drinks for us.”
The fragrant scent of the cooking meat enticed her stomach to rumble. It was almost a scolding for her horrible assumption that he wouldn’t know how to cook. Just because he was a wealthy, single, male athlete in his thirties didn’t mean he couldn’t cook for himself. She really needed to stop lumping him into categories, especially since he continued to surprise her.
He moved through the kitchen with the graceful comfort he seemed to pass through life with. His T-shirt hugged his shoulders but hung loose around the waist of his cargo shorts, and her eyes were drawn to the strength displayed in his arms as he mixed the salad together.
That thought immediately led to the power hidden beneath his shorts. The man had legs and buns like she’d never seen or felt before. The desire to rub her hand over the firm bubbled roundness had her spinning around to hunt down their drinks. She was way past her horny twenties. Or at least she had been before Scott.
His fridge was a stainless steel mammoth stuffed with fresh produce, energy drinks, meats and condiments of every kind. She’d always been conscious of what she ate, but not to his level. She was beginning to understand that the requirements of a pro athlete went far beyond his abilities on the ice.
“What do you want?” She asked, head buried in the cool depths of the fridge.
“Milk.”
It does a body good. The slogan flashed through her mind to put a smile on her face. It certainly did his good. He knew exactly what to do with that fabulous body too. Hers still hummed from last night.
She grabbed the jug then looked to him for direction on where the glasses were. He pointed to a cupboard, in sync with her once again. She brushed a hand over his lower back when she passed, the need to touch him impossible to resist.
He leaned back to catch her lips in a quick kiss. It’d been like that since she’d stumbled downstairs at six-thirty that morning to find him finishing his morning workout. Tender touches, soft kisses, flowing conversation through a light breakfast and a stroll along the trail that wove around his property had her reluctant to leave. He hadn’t made any indication that he wanted her gone either. If anything, they were both prolonging their time, rather than cutting it short.
Her phone rang right when she’d finished pouring their drinks. The unmistakable sound of Rock’s ringtone had her moving to answer. Guilt at still being at Scott’s warred with irritation at her big brother’s interruption. She’d texted earlier to let him know she was fine.
And she was supposed to be here visiting him, not hooking up with a guy. It didn’t matter that Scott didn’t feel like a casual anything, it was still bad manners to be bailing on her brother. Hopefully, he’d understand.
“I need to get this,” she told Scott as she dug her phone out of her purse. “Sorry.”
“Go ahead.” He motioned toward the patio. “I’ll bring lunch out when it’s ready.”
She swiped her finger over the screen to answer the call. “Hi, Rock.”
He rumbled a short greeting before going into a sharp list of questions regarding her health, safety and sanity.
Her laughter bubbled out, causing Scott to raise a brow at her. “I’m fine. I swear. No. Scott hasn’t abducted me.” Both of Scott’s brows shot up at that, and she chuckled some more.
Dang. When was the last time she’d been this happy?
She winked at Scott and headed for the French doors that led to the back patio, smile splitting her face.
“When are you coming home?” Rock asked. His grumbling tone only had her grinning more.
She paused to glance back at the man who’d essentially swept her off her feet. He cupped his hand and lifted it to his mouth then swiped up a glass of milk to swallow whatever he just took.
“Sometime this afternoon,” she answered Rock as she reached the doors, not trying to be evasive. She honestly didn’t know when Scott would bring her back to Rock’s. There was something about not asking for details that let her time with him seem longer. “And when did you become Dad?”
The warm air hit her when she stepped outside, but it was tempered by the shade from the many trees. Spreading the length of the house, the multi-tiered stone-and-paver patio was another statement in blending with the environment. From the gold-and-tan stone colors to the sweeping curves and sloping edges, the opulence was underscored by the simplicity that allowed the wooded view to remain the focus.
There was a long pause on Rock’s end before he muttered, “That was low, Rach.”
“Sorry.” She cringed, instantly regretting her choice of words. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Rock was nothing like their strict, judgmental father. Even more so since he’d found Carter. “I just meant I’m old enough to look out for myself. You don’t have to check up on me.”
She inhaled the earthy scent of trees, grass and nature, loving the memories that came with it. Ones spent
camping with her family in the rare breaks her dad had and their location allowed. Her father had been a strict drill sergeant both on and off the job and he’d ensured all his kids could survive in the wild.
“But I do,” Rock insisted. “You’re my little sister. It’s part of my job definition.”
She sunk into a patio chair and tipped her face to a wedge of sunlight that cut through the leaves. The pinch in her chest was sharp with guilt. Rock might have a partner, but he was still her closest ally. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“I’m not worried exactly. More concerned.”
“About what?”
“You getting hurt.”
She wanted to say she wouldn’t, but she couldn’t promise that. In truth, she was afraid it was already too late. “That’s not your concern.”
His sigh was deep and heavy. “Are we back to that?”
The distant chirping of two birds bickering in the trees brought a wan smile to her lips. It was so close to her current conversation. “Did you have something planned for this afternoon?” she asked to change the subject. “You didn’t say anything last night.”
“I didn’t know you’d still be gone at noon today.”
The urge to bang her head on the glass table was barely contained. Three weeks of living with her brother was bordering on too long. “Is there a point to this call?” There was a smile in her voice though, even if she was irritated with Rock’s intrusion.
“Are you there to support him?”
She frowned. “Support who? Scott? Why would he need support?” She turned to study him through the window, but the glare of the outside light on the glass prevented her from seeing through to the kitchen.
“So he didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Never mind.”
“Oh, no you don’t, Rockford Fielding.” She sat up straight, spine stiff with the same determination she pitched into her voice. “You do not get to drop something like that and then not tell me.”
