Delivery Girl (Minnesota Ice #1)

by Lily Kate

  He closes his eyes as my hands go to the button on his jeans. I pop it open, my hands itching to touch him. He’s wearing black boxer briefs, and I rest my hand against the impressive bulge.

  It’s his turn to sizzle a breath between his lips, his head rolling back against the pillow. “Shit.”

  “Shit bad or shit good?”

  “Shit don’t you dare stop, sweetheart,” he says. “Take off your shirt.”

  “I’m not done—”

  “I didn’t ask if you were done.” He moves into a sitting position faster than I can blink, corralling me as he links my arms behind my back. “I asked you to take your shirt off. Please, I want to see you…all of you.”

  My chest rises and falls. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. All at once he’s commanding, decisive, and then playful again. I’m realizing I have never known good sex—not yet.

  Suddenly, I’m worried that nobody will ever live up to Ryan. He’s worked more magic with his fingers than any man has done with my entire body combined. It’ll be impossible to date again after Ryan.

  Then again, I haven’t even had Ryan yet. I focus on him now, pushing thoughts of what’s next into oblivion. The way he’s looking at me feels a bit like a lion watching its prey, and if I don’t get moving soon, I bet he’ll take my shirt off with his teeth.

  I reach down, wiggling out of his grasp, and pull my shirt over my head. I’m wearing a simple, black bra—I hadn’t expected to go out after my show tonight, so I was dressed for practicality.

  Ryan, God bless his soul, doesn’t seem to care about the bra at all. It hits the floor one second later, and then his mouth is on my collarbone. Hot and tender, he leads a trail of kisses down my chest, brushing his lips over the tops of my breasts.

  I’m on fire. The touch of his lips against my skin is enough to set me off, but I refuse. This time, I’m bringing him with me. Then, his lips clamp around my nipple, and I forget about everything else. His mouth moves in ways that have me writhing, pulling him closer and pushing away all at once.

  Ryan reaches out, grasps me, holds me to his chest. His arm guides my back onto the soft comforter as he lays me down, exposing every inch of me. It’s his turn to fumble with my jeans, and he struggles. I don’t blame him—they’re from high school and thus a little too tight around the waist.

  “Shit,” he says, throwing his hands up in the air. “Damn jeans.”

  I help him, my hands guiding his as he peels the pants away from my legs until they’re nothing but a memory. All I care about is Ryan’s hands—they’re running up my legs, just the tips of his fingers making contact, sending goose bumps prickling over my skin.

  “Ryan…” I say, but that’s all I can manage as his fingers pass the insides of my thighs.

  All I have on now is a thin pair of panties. They’re lacey and pink, something fun I always wear when I perform. I wear them for luck, to remind me that I can be fun and flirty if I really want to, and they’re an even better reminder of that now.

  He rests a possessive hand there, one of his fingers straying along the outside of the fabric, testing for my reaction as he watches my face, the pressure almost too much to handle. It’s overwhelming, and I mumble nonsense.

  “You like that?” he murmurs in a husky, lust filled voice “I’m just getting started, honey …”

  Next, he dips his head and plants a kiss next to his fingers, and it makes me burn with pleasure. Lava—I am lava.

  Thankfully, he pauses there, giving me a moment to breath. “You are ready for me,” he says, almost in awe.

  “Not yet,” I grit out. “Lay down first.”

  He doesn’t listen, his hand clamping down as he leans in for a kiss. This time I’m ready for it, and I take advantage of his one-armed stance to shift him over onto the bed. It pains me shift his fingers away from working their magic, but I do it before he can stop me and lower myself against him.

  Now it’s just me, a bit of lacy material, Ryan, and his boxers. I can feel him for the first time without denim between us, and it’s more pleasure than I’ve ever known. I close my eyes, adjusting until his fingers come up to grasp my waist.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he murmurs. “I wasn’t done with you.”

  We’re somewhere between playful wrestling and passionate sex, and I like it. I love it, actually, especially when he starts rubbing again, tracing small circles around my sweet spot. My eyes are still closed, and I’m lost in the moment, moving against him, until I realize it’s enough to set me off. I raise my hips from him, pausing the momentum.

  His hand clasps my wrist, but it’s not enough to stop me from slithering downward and sliding his boxers off. He springs free, sort of like a jack-in-the-box, and the analogy makes me giggle in my head. I do another second’s worth of ogling, and then I lower my mouth to him, clasping my lips firm enough to draw a sharp breath.

  He had started to argue, to reach for me, but he loses all will to fight as I begin to move. “Oh, shit,” he says. “That feels incredible.”

  I hide my smile. Never did I ever think I’d meet Ryan Pierce in person, let alone be here, in his bed, making him hiss with pleasure. My life could be so much worse.

  Judging by his moans and his fingers gripping my hair and pulling tight, whatever I’m doing at the moment is working.

  “Stop,” he says, breaking the rhythm. He’s on the verge, I can see it in his eyes. “Lie down.”

  “But—”

  “Lie down,” he says again. “Please.”

  It’s difficult to argue with a demand like that, so I roll onto my back. Somehow, the undies have disappeared. He perches on top of me, one arm easing around my back so he’s holding my chest to his, our skin slick with heat, want, need. He’s produced a condom from somewhere unknown and rolls it on, and the next thing I know, he’s nudging into me, slowly, cautiously.

  “You’re a tease,” I gasp. “Freaking tease.”

  He reaches around, grasping at my back, my bottom, my hips, pulling me tighter. He’s barely inside, and already he’s filled me. His hand joins the party, rubbing in circles and bringing sensations to the table that I’ve never before experienced.

  Finally, I can’t handle it anymore, and I yank his hips toward me. We sit there for a moment, stilled, almost in shock at how good this feels. I’ve never felt so complete, so on fire, so needy for more.

  I can tell he feels the same, and only a second later he puts his hands on either side of my body and begins to rock. It’s not enough to just be; I need everything he has to give, and he needs me too—I can sense it.

  I move with him, my hips arching, my mouth pressed to his neck. He kisses me, but I can hardly think, can hardly feel, and all I know is the sense of exhilaration as if we’re on a rollercoaster that’s about to fly off the rails.

  “You feel incredible,” he murmurs. “Thank the Lord for amendments.”

  I murmur an agreement as my hands dig into his back while his fingers cinch me tight, and I feel the racing of his heart. Our mouths clash in a tangle of heat. Then, just when I’m ready to go over the edge, he pushes me back, pulls almost out, and hesitates, his eyes locking on mine.

  We pause there, my core aching for him, his hand fisted through my hair as he holds on tight. The moment is shattered as he thrusts in, long, hard, fast, and from there we’re on a bottle rocket sailing toward space.

  His name falls from my lips as he rocks us to a climax, and when we finally take off, I learn the meaning of seeing stars. Tiny little shimmering things I never knew existed in reality fill my field of vision.

  We continue sailing, feeling, gasping, until long after the stars have blinked out. I collapse against him, satiated. I’m spent, completely, and in a post-sex drunken bliss that makes it impossible to speak.

  He strokes my hair, whispers gentle words against my ear, and runs his fingers down my spine until finally, I feel somewhat human again. The first thing I do is look up, smile, and kiss him hard on the lips.
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  “Wow,” I breathe when we break. “That was…”

  I decide to let him fill in the gap.

  “Out of this world?” he murmurs, his hand sleepily pushing my hair back from my face.

  We manage to disconnect, but neither of us are in a hurry to go anywhere. I roll into his chest and his arms hold me tight to him. I’m exhausted and completely, utterly happy, and I decide I want to have sex like this all the time. It’s awesome.

  With each of my previous partners—granted, there weren’t a lot, but the number is higher than one—sex has been this sort of vanilla thing we did to fill the time if we were moderately attracted to one another. It has never been about love, passion, or even lust.

  I have no clue what just happened with Ryan, but it was not vanilla, and it was not boring. I want more.

  “Fantastic,” I add. “That was fun.”

  “Let’s do it again.” he says. “Once wasn’t enough.”

  I curl in against his body. “Good thing we can do it as many times as we want.”

  “Very good thing.”

  His hand runs along my naked back, his touch gentle, the opposite of our furious motions of moments before. It’s the first time I’ve ever had the urge to cuddle, but since we’re friends with benefits, the situation is a little confusing. Is cuddling expected? Required? Frowned upon?

  “So,” I say curiously. “What happens now?”

  “Now?” He glances up at me, mischief in his eyes. “My, oh my, Andi, you’re insatiable.”

  I feel my cheeks flame. “I just meant like…what do we do? Do we cuddle? Should I go home? This friends with benefits thing doesn’t come with a handbook, you know.”

  He turns to the ceiling, his bark of laughter startling me. Shaking his head, he faces me. “You are truly one of a kind.”

  “Fine, can I take a shower then?” I smile, pleased that our hookup hasn’t changed the easy atmosphere between us. If anything, things seem even easier now. We don’t have to pretend we aren’t looking forward to a repeat session.

  He runs a hand leisurely along my leg, stares at my boobs, and then grins. “Towels are in the bathroom,” he says. “But first, come here.”

  “Where?”

  His answer is a kiss, a breathtaking kiss that has me thinking we are going for round two. But, just as his hands skim over my stomach and down to my hips, he stops, giving my butt a firm pat. “Shower’s that way.” I give him a look of frustration, and he merely raises his eyebrows. “Is there a problem?”

  “You know what you’re doing to me,” I say, stomping off to the bathroom. “And I expect you deliver on your promise, buddy!”

  I step into the bathroom and find a smile reflected back at me in the mirror—a smile and real, true sex hair. I’m actually proud of this wild ’do—I look like quite the maniac.

  I snap a quick picture of my new hairstyle and text it to Lisa. I have to share this moment with someone, and she’ll appreciate it.

  My phone beeps with a text two seconds later. It’s Lisa, and she’s sent me five eggplant emojis. I don’t quite understand it, but I understand it enough to send her a turd image back.

  And then the thumbs up.

  Finally, I climb into the shower, lather up with the expensive soaps lined up along the ledge, and wash my hair with delicious-smelling shampoo. By the time I climb out, I’m feeling like a new woman. This time when I look in the mirror, I see a makeup-less face that is smiling, happy, and refreshed. Sex works wonders for my skin.

  Unless…maybe this is more than sex? Already, I find myself dreading Lawrence and Lilia’s wedding. As excited as I am to be invited, I don’t want the date to arrive, because once that date passes, Ryan and I will no longer have a reason to see each other. I don’t want to think about that.

  Instead, I leave the steam-filled bathroom and head to the bedroom where, at least for now, my fantasy has become reality.

  CHAPTER 29

  Ryan

  I’m ready to fall asleep. She’s been in that shower for so long I actually debate knocking on the door to make sure she is still alive, but when I put my ear to the door, I hear her humming.

  Fucking adorable.

  She’s humming in the shower, and it sounds happy, so I return to bed and now I’m lying here, waiting for her to return and sprawl out on the sheets next to me.

  She exhausted me. I’ve been with plenty of women before—hockey players are rarely at a loss for options—but none of my options have been anything like Andi, nowhere near as satisfying, as intelligent, as goddamn sexy. Whatever she did with her mouth, those hips—I’m hooked. That’s not to mention the fact that I enjoy talking with her, too, before and after.

  Suddenly I can understand why Lawrence left behind his dickhead ways when he met Lilia. If she makes him feel anywhere near as good as Andi makes me feel, well, shit—I’d give up my dickhead ways too.

  Even though that’s not an option for so many reasons. We both want to enjoy this for as long as possible, but at the end of the day, our relationship is going to grind to a halt in one way or another, no pun intended.

  If I get signed here, Jocelyn will have my balls in a vice-like grip, especially my first year with the Lightning. I won’t be able to get away with anything. If I don’t get signed, well, there goes any hope for continuing our little agreement. Two thousand miles sure puts a kink in the friends with benefits amendment, and not the good kind.

  I’m running a hand over my forehead, debating when I should bring this up to Andi, when she waltzes into the room and I forget all logical thought—or illogical thought, for that matter. All thoughts fly out the window at the sight of her wearing my fluffy-ass towel.

  I’m sure she’s naked under there. She left her clothes by the bed and stumbled to the bathroom in nothing but a pair of socks. Now the socks are gone, and so is her makeup, and damn if she isn’t even more beautiful with a plain face.

  “Do you by chance have a t-shirt?” she asks, a hint of shyness creeping into her smile. “Unless I should leave now? I don’t really know the etiquette here. I’ve never been a friend with benefits before.”

  I’m speechless. Leave now? When I find my words, I gargle something that doesn’t make any sense.

  “What?” she asks. “Was that English?”

  I might’ve thought I was completely spent—it’s been a long day between training early this morning, enough sexual tension to break a lesser man, and finally the most insane release—yet somehow, I’m ready for her again.

  I stand, the sheets falling off of me as her eyes land on a gigantic sign that I’m ready to go again.

  She holds a hand up to her mouth and stifles a burst of laughter. “I guess that means I’m not getting kicked out yet?”

  Luckily the condoms are already out and ready. I slip one on, watching her eyes for any sign that she’s not looking for a repeat.

  On the contrary—she lets her towel fall to the floor.

  I was right. She’s naked under there.

  “You are stunning,” I find myself saying. Normally, I’m not one for compliments and touchy-feely shit—girls get too attached when I start saying that stuff—but this isn’t a conscious choice; I’m just blurting out whatever’s on my mind. “I need you again.”

  Her yes is more of a needy groan, and I know before I even touch her that she’s ready. When my fingers find the warmth between her legs, she inhales a sharp breath. This time, there’s no foreplay, no dicking around—it’s urgent.

  I lift her up and wind her legs around my back. We move forward, her back crashing against the wall harder than I’d intended. “Sorry, sweetheart,” I say, watching her eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

  Her eyes shine with need and she shakes her head as she pulls me harder against her. I catch the back of her head as she throws it back, just before she hits the wall, her hair soft and damp against my fingers.

  “I thought about you in the shower,” she whispers. “Daydreamed, really.”

  Hot dam
n. I lower her hips, closing my eyes, savoring that first moment as we join in a mesh of limbs. This time, it’s about need, raw, dangerous need, and I don’t hold back. I want her to be mine, mine alone, and that thought is terrifying, so I thrust harder, faster, her moans growing louder and wilder with each passing second.

  I can’t last much longer—she feels too good. Her teeth bite down against my shoulder as we hurtle toward the finish line, and when we reach it, I explode. Together, we sag against the wall, my hands holding her up, small puffs of her breath against my neck are sending jolts throughout my nerve system.

  When I finally let her down, she’s grinning.

  “God, you are insatiable,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Was that good for you, sweetheart?”

  She nips my lip. “What do you think?”

  I laugh, holding her against me, loving the way her naked body feels against mine. I’ve never been a cuddler—again, it leads to attachment too quickly—but Andi is different. Perfect.

  “I’m going to shower,” I say, maybe a bit too abruptly, needing some space. “Make yourself at home, climb in bed, raid the fridge, whatever.”

  “Is everything okay?” Her eyebrows crinkle in concern.

  She heard the shortness in my voice. Shit. I give her a long, lazy kiss to show her just how right everything is. “Some of us need a break, that’s all. We’re not all as energetic as you,” I say, heading to the shower. I stop in the doorway to the bedroom. “And Andi?”

  She’s climbed into bed and looks up in surprise. “Yes?”

  “I’ll be thinking of you.”

  She turns red, but doesn’t let the embarrassment get to her. “Let me remind you that I’m not the one who needs a break, Mr. Pierce.”

  I turn away, at a loss for words.

  For the second, or third, or fourth time today, Andi Peretti has made me speechless.

  CHAPTER 30

  Andi

  I’m woken by a kiss on my cheek.

  “Sweetheart,” a voice murmurs against my ear. “I have to get going. You can keep sleeping if you’d like.”