by G. K. Brady
Jesuuus!
His dick sprang to life, wide awake, and so did he, all his best non-carnal intentions taking a hike as a low groan unfurled inside him. Suspiciously absent were the aches and pains from a few minutes before. In their place, his nerves were firing in the very best way, primed and ready to go. She had that effect on him.
Her hand continued its soft caress. “I think someone’s happy to see me.” Her voice was scratchy, full of sleep, and incredibly adorable and sexy at the same time.
He stroked the silky fabric over her shoulder blades with one hand and entwined the other in her hair as he cupped the back of her head. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. Just wanted to hold you.”
She withdrew her hand, running it up his neck into his hair. “Tired?” As good as her hand felt in his hair—hell, anywhere—he missed it down south.
“I thought I was tired,” he rasped. “You have this amazing power to re-energize me.”
She giggled against him, and his hands were under her top, relishing the sensation of her soft skin, his nose buried in the crook of her neck as he breathed her in. Then he was softly sucking, loving the taste of her. Suddenly, he couldn’t get enough. She pressed and molded herself against him with a sighing moan. So welcoming. Trailing kisses up and down her neck, he worked the buttons of her top free. Pulling back, he splayed the fabric wide, his eyes drawn to her plump breasts and taut pink tips. The breath stuttered in his chest. So fucking gorgeous. His wood-hard shaft became petrified rock.
He palmed a breast and looked into smoldering blue eyes looking back at him. “I swear you have the most beautiful tits I’ve ever seen.” Reverence laced his voice.
A laugh bubbled out of her, and he stilled. “That’s funny?” Confusion quirked one corner of his mouth.
“No, not funny.” Her eyes still locked on his, her expression sobered, and she toyed with his hair, shooting chills down his neck, his spine, straight to the fingertips that had started gliding over her flesh again. “Considering the number of tits I expect you’ve seen in your lifetime, I’ll take that as quite the compliment, Captain Reaper.”
He stared at her. Nothing moved for a beat. Oh shit. Did I say that all wrong? Before he could string together enough thoughts to ponder it further, she breathed, “Show me how beautiful you think they are.”
Something primal rose up inside him, and soon he had her on her back, jerking her sleeves off as his mouth took one breast, then the other. Tongue, teeth, lips, he used them all gently at first and then not so gently, fire blazing brighter inside him with every gasp of his name and musical moan that fell from her lips. He worshipped her, then gathered her wrists in one hand and hauled them above her head, worshipping her even more. Beneath him, she bucked and writhed, and it drove him out of his mind knowing he was driving her out of her mind. Only him. What he was doing alone. And he wanted that feeling to go on forever.
While he sucked and licked and nipped, he kept her hands pinned. His other hand snaked down her body, diving under her teeny-tiny silk shorts, his fingers entering her hot, wet softness hungrily, mimicking what he wanted to do to her with his cock. As he rocked his fingers in and out of her with determined strokes, she arched her back and moaned incoherently, pressing herself deeper into his mouth.
“So fucking hot,” he murmured. “So fucking good.”
Yeah, she was right. He’d seen more than his fair share of women, but they were a blur from another lifetime. He’d never been with anyone like her, had never experienced anything like this with anyone else, had never felt so alive and powerful and complete before. She was all he could see. Taste. Smell. Feel. What she did to him was off the charts. Out of this solar system. This universe.
“Dave!” she gasped. Her body seized, becoming a hard plank. “I can’t hold out much longer.”
That’s my line. He raised his head and looked into her heated eyes, his fingers still curling and pumping inside her. “Then don’t hold out. Let yourself fly, Ellie.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head from side to side. “No. I want to come with you inside me,” she panted. “I want to feel you filling me, stretching me beyond my limits.”
Holy fuuuuck!
“Now!” she demanded in one breathless rush.
He pulled his fingers from her body and stretched over her, settling between her bent knees, re-cinching his hold on her wrists as his lips and tongue worked their way across her chest, over her collarbones, up her throat to her earlobe in slow, savoring slides. “Someone’s being bossy,” he mumbled against her heated skin. Truth was he needed to pause and catch his breath, regain control, slow himself down before he was doing what she demanded and blowing his load on the first thrust. If anyone could make him do that, it was this girl. His free hand trailed down her silky side, returning to knead her breast and toy with her tight nipple.
“And someone’s being a tease,” she huffed beneath him.
“Bossy and impatient.” He grinned. “You’re my dirty little good girl.”
She puffed and squirmed halfheartedly, trying to pull her hands from his grasp. His lips landed on her neck. “You want to be fucked gentle or hard, Bossy?”
Cocking her head to the side, she ran a blatantly lust-filled gaze over him. At the same time, her foot skated up and down his bare leg, “As hard and as dirty as you can give it to me.”
He stopped breathing for several beats. “Fuck, you are a sexy thing.”
“For someone who says ‘fuck’ so much in my bed, you’re doing very little of it.” One corner of her mouth twitched. “All dirty talk and no action.”
“You like it when I talk dirty to you?”
“Mmm, but I prefer when you do dirty things to me.”
That did it. What was left of their clothes was in a heap on the floor, and he was straddling her hips, carrying his weight on his knees, sweeping his eyes over the beautiful full curves laid out below him. He might want to believe he could control her body, but she definitely had full control of his body, mind, and soul.
Shifting his weight, he planted his forearms on either side of her and wedged his thigh between her knees. “Open for me.” He hadn’t needed to say it because she was not only opening for him, but she was angling her hips to take him in. Soon he was inside her, surrounded by her warm, wet walls. He nearly lost it. He pulled out and plunged back in, burying himself to the hilt.
Even in his sex-hazed brain, he knew he should stay out and sheath himself, but she was so sweet and tight and warm, and he wanted to feel himself encased by her, wanted to feel himself fill her with nothing between them. That annoying little voice whispered there were consequences for careless behavior, ones that arrived nine months later. Another voice answered it didn’t care, that if she got pregnant, he could make her his. The first voice reminded him his Denver days were numbered.
She dug her nails into his back. “Oh so good,” she moaned, and it silenced the voices in his head. “More. Like. That.” Her head was tilted, eyes closed, mouth parted, back bowed as if she were offering herself to him on an altar.
He heard himself say, “Most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” but he was too far gone. Fingers digging into her waist to hold her in place, he slammed into her, lost in the sound of her hitching gasps as he drove in and out, his hips flexing and pistoning in a rhythm fine-tuned to her humming body.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and tightened, meeting him thrust for thrust, pulling him farther inside as he rode her. A shudder vibrated her entire body, and she wailed his name. And then heat was streaking down his spine, pooling, expanding, releasing, and he barely had time to pull out before spurting in hot, pulsing jets.
When he drifted back to the conscious world, he felt as though he were made up of floating pieces of confetti that had been fired from a cannon. Panting into the crook of her neck, he was sprawled partway across her, one arm encircling her. Her ragged breathing matched his, and her pretty eyes bli
nked, seeming to appraise him.
Alarm spiked in him. “Did I hurt you?” Another concern loomed, equally alarming.
She swept his hair off his sweaty forehead. “No, I’m fine. Better than fine. But I’m sleeping on your side tonight because that’s quite the wet spot.” A soft giggle bubbled in her throat, and she threw him for a moment because … well, he had his own side. And he liked that.
“I’m sorry. I should have stopped and used a rubber.” Jesus, when was the last time he’d been so reckless? Even when past girlfriends had been on the pill, he’d left nothing to chance and had always used a condom. “I know it’s a little late, but I’m clean.”
“I know. I trust you. And it’s okay. I’m off-cycle.”
He believed her. Had no reason to doubt. “Was that hard enough?” He tucked a few wisps behind her ear.
“It was perfect. You’re perfect.” She placed her hand on his chest, her blue eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t unravel but that touched the center of his heart and rippled outward, steadily swelling until it lapped at his rough outer edges and blanketed them in sublime warmth. Because she trusted him, and she thought he was perfect.
Only in your eyes, he wanted to say. Instead, he said, “No, you’re the perfect one.” He got up and padded to the bathroom, wet a washcloth in hot water, and returned to clean off her thighs, her abdomen, and what he could of the sheet. When he’d disposed of the rag, he climbed under the covers, rolling to his side, and pulled her against him, away from the wet spot on her side of the bed. Smiling to himself, he cradled her in his arms, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. She nestled against him, her body seeming to melt in that telltale way she had of drifting off. He was one lucky son of a bitch. As he descended the rest of the way from his euphoric cloud, reality placed its unwelcome, cold grip on him. Coach Lebrun’s words spun in his head. How much longer before he couldn’t fall into a contented sleep with her? How much longer would this last?
His body glazed in a cold sweat.
Chapter 30
Overthinking Can Lead to Dumbassery
Ellie was long gone by the time Dave roused. She’d taken Casper and left him a note letting him know she’d stocked his favorite morning smoothie fixings, how to run her blender, and to not forget about the Millers’ cocktail party tonight. The one he’d reluctantly agreed to escort her to. But he couldn’t help the smile kicking up a corner of his mouth—being thought of, taken care of, was a nice feeling. And because Yoda was an anti-good-feels kinda guy, he once again reminded Dave not to get too comfortable.
Dave was on his way to the arena when he placed a call to Herb and filled him on his meeting with Coach LeBrun.
“Well, I wasn’t going to call you until I had something more definite,” Herb replied, “but the GM from Arizona contacted me yesterday. Seems one of their top defensemen turned up his nose at their proposed contract extension and made noises about testing free agency. And if that doesn’t pan out, Ottawa is back, champing at the bit to sign you. Nashville and Boston are perking up too. I don’t know if they’re hearing about the other teams’ interest, but you’re suddenly a popular guy, buttercup. You’ll have no trouble landing in a new home soon.”
Dave hung up and scrubbed his hand over his beard. He should have been all kinds of elated, but instead he was deflated. Numb. His mind leapt to living in Ottawa. Boston. Nashville. At least Arizona was closer to Denver, but doing the long-distance thing? Skillfully avoiding the fact that the first leap his mind had taken was to Ellie and not his career, he drummed up other reasons the relationship couldn’t work. He’d be busy with his new town and his new team. She’d be busy with her business. The fleeting thought of asking her to come along danced through his head before it died a quick death, like a hapless bug in a zapper. They’d only started this thing, whatever it was. Shit, it was so new he couldn’t even name it. How could you know what you needed to know about someone after a few short months? He and Nicky had been dating ten months when they moved in together, and look how that had turned out. A disaster on so many levels he couldn’t even count them all. On a long exhale, he decided to follow Herb’s advice and park the dizzying questions in a back corner until after Christmas. No teams would be making any serious moves until the holidays were over anyway.
Which reminded him. Christmas. After he parked his car at the arena, he thumbed a quick text to Sonoma, leading off with, Help!!! It’s Christmas. As he was composing a follow-up text, her immediate reply chimed: Cutting it close, aren’t you? To which he answered, Which is why I need you. He could practically hear her smirk on the other end as she agreed to go shopping with him. Thank God! Hopefully, she could come up with a gift for Ellie because he had no clue. He’d given it exactly zero thought, which made him a jerk. And, it occurred to him, he’d never bothered to ask Ellie what she was doing for Christmas. Which made him a bigger jerk. Or was it self-preservation? Was doing Christmas together, giving her a gift, sending out the wrong signals if what he really should be doing was pulling back?
Yeah, this relationship was nowhere near the “Want to move to Freeze-My-Balls-Off Ottawa with me?” stage, nor could he see when or how it would be appropriate to even consider asking. Enjoy it while you can.
And that was the exact thought caroming around in his head when he texted Ellie later. How about I take you to dinner tonight?
Ellie: Before or after the cocktail party?
Oh shit. Somehow his memory banks kept ejecting the party looming large.
Dave: After? If we’re still hungry?
Ellie: I’m sure you will be.
“Maybe not,” he muttered to himself. His stomach felt like a wrench-happy monkey had overtightened all the lug nuts on his wheels. Yet he was eager—a little too eager, a little too desperate—to see her, to please her by going. Again and already. Shit, he had it bad. Probably a good thing he wouldn’t be around much longer, for his sake and hers.
Ellie checked herself in the mirror one last time, smoothing her ivory silk blouse over a pair of fitted black slacks she’d found in the back of her closet. Silver dangles, a silver pendant with a pretty leaf detail, and her red cowboy boots completed the look. She’d meant to do some shopping, but competing with a zillion Christmas shoppers was daunting enough that she easily talked herself out of it. Oh well. Men didn’t really notice clothes, did they? Not unless they were Agent Clemente, whose job was to notice every detail. He wasn’t Agent Clemente, though, he’d admonished her. He was Rick now that he’d visited her office no less than three times with a non-threatening smile and coffee as a “peace offering.” She couldn’t decide if he was playing a new game instead of showing up unexpectedly at jobsites, or if he was simply a lonely nice guy showing interest. There had been no mentions of busting her ass or where her money came from. Did he still suspect her of taking part in some smuggling ring, or did he like her? She couldn’t read the man, so she played it safe by warily playing along. Between the publicity drummed up by the Habitat project and Paige’s clients, the potential for spring business was the most promising it had ever been. Ellie didn’t need another ICE debacle derailing it.
The throaty purr of a muscle car at her curb had her smiling to herself and glancing out the window. The GTO was so buffed it caught the reflection of the streetlights and reminded her of a slab of softly twinkling silver. In true form, Dave was out of his door and halfway up the walkway before she’d locked the front door. He bent down and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek before stepping back and leading the way to the car. No reassuring fingers against the small of her back or big hand wrapped around her upper arm. He’s uptight about the party. A little wave of guilt washed over her, but damn it, if they were becoming a couple, then they’d go to these functions for and with each other, right? Then again, the “if” was a big one. He’d been sending the “we’re a couple” vibe for a while, yet he hadn’t invited her to the team Christmas get-together earlier in the month. Sarah said he’d come alone and hadn’t s
tayed long, but still, good old self-doubt rose up and posed the question, What if you’re reading the signals all wrong?
God, she hoped she hadn’t because she was pretty damn sure she was falling in love with the guy.
He slid behind the steering wheel and started the car. Elvis’s “I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You” blared over the speakers. How appropriate was the first thought to rocket through her brain, followed by a hopeful, Did he put this on for me? A moment later, that thought was annihilated when he jabbed the radio’s buttons as if they were about to explode. He landed on a Mexican station and left it there before finally settling on one playing old-time Christmas tunes.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Wasn’t feeling Elvis tonight.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Apparently, you’re feeling Christmas?”
“Well, ’tis the season and all.” He wiped his palm on his dress pants.
Twisting a piece of hair around her finger, she side-eyed him. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yep.” He side-eyed her back. “Why?”
“I don’t know. You seem a little … twitchy.”
He flicked a finger toward the windshield. “It’s all this damn holiday traffic.”
“Well, don’t get distracted and plow into someone.”
The look on his face told her he didn’t find her comment amusing in the least, and she murmured a quick apology. He answered with a grunt. She sank into her seat and stared out the window, feeling as chilled as the icicles hanging off the frozen gutters they passed. I never should have pushed him into coming. The revelation was far too late.
Ellie’s spirits lifted as they approached the Millers’ house because Landscaping with Altitude had strung the exterior lights, and she felt a surge of pride. The guys had really outdone themselves, and the house was a spectacular showcase for the Millers and for Ellie’s company. She’d have to make sure they got pictures.
