by Elise Faber
“Anna.”
She yanked at the door.
“Anna.”
Another shake of her head, another tug.
“Sweetheart, you’re beautiful.” She didn’t look at him, but he kept talking anyway. “It’s the truth, but regardless of that or what I’ve been feeling these last months, I was out of line. I shouldn’t have kissed you, shouldn’t have assumed you wanted—” He broke off before shoring his spine, knowing at the very least, he owed her an apology. “It was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
She froze, gaze tipping up to the sky, and he got the feeling she was talking more to herself than him. “We are not doing this. You are not doing this. I am not doing this.”
Blue touched her cheek, drawing her eyes to his. “This isn’t a line, and I’m not trying to play you, Anna. It’s simply . . . indisputable fact.”
Her lids slammed closed. “I am not doing this.”
“Not doing what?” he asked.
A shuddering breath before her bright blue gaze met his. Pink stained her cheeks. Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips.
He’d been so focused on getting her to see reason, for her to understand that she was gorgeous, that he was sorry and wasn’t playing some game with her, that Blue had almost forgotten how combustible that kiss had been.
But one glimpse of that pink tongue had heat raging back in.
“This,” she said and launched herself into his arms.
Three
Anna
She had to give him credit, Blue recovered quickly.
One second, she was standing on the ground, the next, she was in his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips, her mouth slamming onto his. And in another, he turned, used a foot to shut the car door, and slid his tongue between her lips.
Anna found her back pressed against the cool metal of her sedan, her front flush against the wonderful hardness that was Blue, and her breath stolen in a kiss that threatened to light her skin on fire.
She shouldn’t be doing this.
She couldn’t be doing this.
But the fucking man had been sweet and earnest and—
He did something with his tongue that made every coherent thought poof right out of her head.
She kissed him harder, slipping her arms around his shoulders, weaving one hand into the short locks on the back of his neck. She loved the bristles there, loved the way they felt against her fingertips. His mouth moved from her lips to her jaw to her earlobe, down her throat, nipping at her collarbone.
“We should stop,” he rasped against her skin, the damp heat of his words making her shiver.
They should.
This was a recipe for disaster.
And yet . . . Blue knew nothing about her or her past. He didn’t know why his words had touched her so deeply.
He’d just been nice and genuine and . . . he’d kissed her like he hadn’t been able to get enough.
A man who wanted her for her.
Her fucking kryptonite. Pathetic, but there it was.
“We should,” she agreed, but instead of backing away, instead of getting into her car and driving off, Anna grabbed Blue’s head and tugged his mouth back down to hers.
One frozen moment before he groaned, hands sliding to her waist, lifting her up again so she straddled his hips, and then she was pressed right against the glorious hardness of his cock. And glorious? Fuck, but normally she’d be laughing at herself for using such a word. Penises were penises. They served their purpose, could occasionally bring her to orgasm.
Very occasionally.
But Blue’s penis?
It deserved the term glorious, all big and hard and rubbing against the exact spot she needed.
“House,” she said, breaking away from his lips to gasp in much-needed oxygen.
“We shouldn’t—”
His words cut off when she arched against him, breasts pressing against his chest, hips tilting to get even closer.
“It’s really fucking stupid,” she said. “But, Blue, don’t tell me that it wouldn’t be good.”
Heated eyes met hers. “Of course, it’s going to be good.”
Anna didn’t miss the use of present tense in his statement. It made her shiver with anticipation then she stretched up to kiss him again.
“But—” he began when they broke apart for air again.
“Blue,” she said, placing a finger over his lips. “I need an orgasm that’s not courtesy of Bucky, my vibrator. I also need one that’s not courtesy of a boyfriend.” His tongue flicked out, caressed the tip of her finger, making her shiver again. “Don’t overthink this,” she whispered.
He peeled her hand away and bent, halting with his mouth mere centimeters from her jaw. His hot breath raised goose bumps on her skin. “But you hate me.”
She didn’t. She really didn’t.
Anna was just really good at pretending she did because he was so fucking dangerous to her mental well-being. Because despite the string of women in and out of his bedroom, despite being more gorgeous than any man had a right to be, and definitely despite the fact that he seemed to revel in pressing every single button she possessed, Blue was one of the good ones.
He visited kids in the hospital, raised money to provide free sports equipment for underprivileged youth. And not one of the numerous women parading through his bedroom had ever said a bad word to the media.
The guys on the team loved him as did the wives and girlfriends and staff members.
Hell, everyone loved him.
The media had him slated to be the next captain.
The fans thought he could do no wrong.
It was terrible.
Well, for her self-control anyway. Especially when he did things like hospital visits and raising money for charity. During the last game she’d gone to, he’d paid for an entire team of ten-year-old female hockey players and their parents to attend, had bought them slushies and hot dogs—well, roast turkey sandwiches and beers for the adults—and had even given everyone Gold jerseys emblazoned with their last names.
Hence the hating.
It was safer that way.
“Yes,” she said, tilting her head in invitation, while she lied her ass off. “I hate you. But hate sex is also good sex.”
One side of his mouth curved into an arrogant smirk. “Blue sex is good sex.”
“So many words,” she countered. “So few orgasms.”
The other half of his mouth curled up. “Last chance, sweetheart,” he said.
“For what?” A careless shrug. “Me left wet and aching while you deal with performance anxiety?”
He growled, fingers tightening on her hips, teeth nipping at her jaw. “Had to push didn’t you, sweetheart?”
“So. Much. Talk—”
She broke off with a squeal as Blue hefted her over his shoulder. Totally caveman, and she should probably turn in her feminist card for this, but she didn’t completely hate it.
Especially when it afforded her such a fabulous view of his hockey player ass.
And hockey players had the best asses.
“I gave you a chance,” he said. “Now, you’re mine.”
Anna’s heart skipped a beat, and it wasn’t just from the promise in his voice. No, it was because his words were possessive, filled with need.
God, she wanted that.
But she couldn’t have it, so she shoved the emotion deep, reached her hands down to cup Blue’s cheeks.
And not the ones on his face.
“Prove it, Anderson.”
Four
Blue
His heart was pounding, his dick was granite, and his brain was screaming that this was a fucking horrible idea.
But Anna.
Beautiful Anna with all her sharp edges, the biting words, the flashing blue eyes . . . the great fucking ass.
Under his palm.
Her breasts, which were brushing his shoulder with every step he took.
Funny how quickly the voice in his hea
d quieted.
He fished out his keys, unlocked the front door and pushed it open, then set Anna on her feet just outside the threshold. “Last chance.”
She propped one hand onto her hip. “You said that already.”
His dick twitched, and Blue stopped what minimal thinking he was doing. Instead, he swept Anna back up into his arms, stepped inside, and kicked the door closed with his heel. A nudge of his elbow slid the lock home.
And his mouth got busy, slanting across hers, tongue slipping between her lips, teasing and nipping and fucking enjoying the hell out of the way she tasted.
He’d planned to move down the hall, to get her into his bed, but she had different plans.
Her hands slipped down, past his waistband, straight for his—
Blue’s knees went weak.
He went with it, sinking down on the rug in his hallway, tugging Anna down with him. He tore at the hem of Anna’s shirt, yanked it up and over her head. Her breath caught as he nipped at her waist, her ribs, the delicate silken flesh spilling out of either side of her black, lacy bra.
“Blue,” she panted, and fuck did he like his name on her lips. Seeing her all breathless, flush spreading down from her cheeks to her throat to her chest.
He wanted to lick every inch of it.
And he would.
But at the moment, he needed to focus on getting them both to orgasm as quickly as possible, to scratch the necessary itch, to get his control back, to make the most of this night together.
Because that was all they’d have.
One night.
One night to cram it all in, one night he could pretend was just a mistake, a mutual exchange of orgasms, one night that couldn’t lead to more.
Because as beautiful and sexy and wonderful as Anna was, they weren’t meant to be.
She shifted beneath him, one hand weaving into the hair on his nape.
“You okay, Big Guy?”
Blue blinked. Fuck. He needed to get his shit together. Because if this night was all they were going to have together, he was going to make it count . . . and also, he was going to ignore that if. This was it. A single night before he forgot about fire and heat and focused on sweet and warm.
Even if sweet and warm was suddenly as appealing as being traded to the Ducks.
Focus.
He never had a hard time concentrating in bed—or floor, rather. He treated fucking like it was his second job, an off-ice skill to hone and perfect.
But with Anna . . .
Well, it was different.
Her fingers tugged lightly, concern creeping into the edges of her expression and chasing away desire. “We don’t have to—”
He let his hips drop more firmly on top of Anna’s, cutting off her words.
“I—” She gasped when he tore the tiny strip of black lace holding the front of her bra together, but he didn’t falter, just bent his head and sucked one nipple into his mouth. “Blue.” Her long moan made his dick ache.
He switched sides, soaking in her groans, hands stroking over every silken inch of her bare skin, before finding his way back to her mouth and kissing her until they were both gasping for air. Then he kissed her some more, fingers drifting down her side to undo the button of her jeans. This was hampered by the fact that Anna was doing the same to him, struggling with the fastening while at the same time fighting with the hem of his shirt.
Blue reared back and yanked it off then undid the button of his jeans and slid down the zipper.
Anna was panting—not that his breathing was all that steady either.
But the sight of her breasts bouncing in time to those rapid breaths had him freezing in place for a moment just to appreciate the view.
“Fuck,” he growled. “I have got to get my mouth back on those.”
Her hips jerked, and he grinned. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, reaching up to pinch one rosy nipple.
“Mmm.” Hazy blue eyes met his, fire still in their depths. “You know I do.” Kiss-reddened lips curved, and his cock somehow got even harder. Blue’s heart rate was higher than when he got stuck on the ice for a long-ass shift, and yet . . . he was finally starting to feel like himself again.
He was in control.
And this was going to be really fucking good.
“Lift your hips, baby,” he ordered, dragging his mouth down her throat, her cleavage, nipping just above one hip.
She complied, and he tugged her jeans down and off, taking the strappy sandals she wore off along with them.
More black lace.
Fuck him senseless.
Yes, he thought, reaching for the scrap of fabric and pulling it down. That’s the plan.
He slid his fingers back up the insides of her thighs, sweeping closer to her pussy, loving that she spread her legs wider, that he could see all that pink glistening with moisture.
He bent, needing to taste, but Anna stopped him with a hand on his chest.
“Later,” she said. “I need you inside me, Blue.”
Desire twisted his gut, roughed the words coming out of his throat. “Yeah, you do,” he said. “But we’ll both just have to wait.” He dove between her thighs, fingers spreading her wide and mouth latching onto her clit.
“Oh fuck,” she groaned.
He took a moment to find what she liked—firm pressure with his tongue, a finger inside that stroked her G-spot—and then set to work, harder and faster, bringing her up to the edge.
Normally, he might have stalled, keeping her there, teasing her with the tendrils of an orgasm, but Blue was too far gone, his control razor-thin at best.
So, he guided her right over the edge and didn’t stop.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck—” she chanted, head writhing from side to side, body stiffening and then softening and then stiffening again as he kept working his tongue and finger.
Only when she began clenching around him did he reach into his back pocket for his wallet to pull out a condom.
A heartbeat to push his jeans down past his hips, another to roll it on.
And then . . . fucking nirvana.
She was tight and hot around him, her mouth parted in a little O he was desperate to kiss off her lips.
So he did.
And then he moved.
Fuck, but she met him stroke for stroke, his orgasm barreling down on him, pleasure sliding down his spine, spiraling through his limbs. He pounded into her, not stopping as she lifted her legs up to wrap around his hips, just shifting his angle slightly so that her eyes widened and her back arched.
“Blue,” she moaned. “Fuck. Yes. Don’t—oh God—stop.”
He couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t have been able to stop even if the world were ending.
“Come on, baby,” he said, tilting his hips so he pressed more firmly against her clit. “Come for me.”
Come before he embarrassed himself because—
Fuck.
His orgasm exploded through him, but—thank fuck—because Anna toppled over the edge alongside him.
“I can’t feel my legs,” she murmured what could have been hours or minutes later. She opened her eyes, lips curving up into a smirk when he leaned back to stop crushing her. “I blame that solid Gold cock.”
And that right there.
That was what made her so fucking dangerous.
Because after the best orgasm of his life, he found himself laughing.
Laughing while sprawled on his hallway rug, ass out, dick still inside her.
Inside a woman he’d spent the last two seasons trying to convince himself was absolutely wrong for him.
Laughing with a woman he was afraid might shatter all of those carefully held expectations.
And then what would he do?
Ignoring the voice that said he might finally start living, Blue shrugged off the past, the emotions, pushed away everything except the beautiful woman beneath him. He smiled down at Anna and shifted so he could lift her into his arms.
“I got you,” h
e assured her, when she gasped in surprised, then nipped at her earlobe. “By my count, you’ve got at least three more orgasms to go tonight.”
Her mouth dropped open, and he slanted his lips across hers, kissing her deeply as he carried her down the hall to his bedroom.
This he could do. Kissing. Orgasms. Fucking.
Feeling too much for a person he couldn’t have?
That was off the table.
And so Blue had circled back to one night.
Time to make the most of it.
Five
Anna
She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring up at the man standing outside her front door.
And not the man she wanted to be standing there.
Dammit.
She was not supposed to be thinking about Blue. Or the empty space next to her on the mattress when she’d woken up in his bed. Or the fact that a coffee and bagel had been waiting for her on the kitchen counter, along with her car keys.
A clear signal that their moment was up. And paired with Blue’s absence, a nice, but firm GTFO.
Also, a good reminder for her to not lose herself, no matter how incredible her multiple—yes, Blue Fucking Anderson had serious bedroom skills—orgasms had been.
And his mouth. And his cock—
Which was So. Not. The. Point.
“Is something wrong with Brayden?” she asked Max, shaking herself and pushing the images of the previous night deep, deep down.
Max shook his head.
She sighed, relaxing back against the doorframe. Because no matter that she’d resigned from her position as Brayden’s nanny, the little boy had sewn himself deeply into her heart. He was hers, forever, even though she couldn’t be his any longer. Brayden and Max had Angie, and they were busy forming their own family now.
“We talked about this already,” she said. “You don’t need me anymore.”
Max frowned. “You’re not fucking Mary Poppins. You don’t have to disappear just because you think your job is done.” He tugged the end of her ponytail. “You’re part of the family, Anna.”
Her heart squeezed.
Because she wanted that. So freaking much.
