Page 72 of Playing Dirty
I fall sideways into the pillow, my lungs still burning. He turns his head toward me, a lazy, satisfied grin playing at his lips.
"So," he rasps, the Irish lilt thick and heavy while he catches his breath. "Still doing math, Ace?"
"What's math?" I manage, the words a whisper as I blink up at the shadows.
His laugh rumbles through the mattress, a deep, warm sound that vibrates through my entire frame. He's still chuckling when he hauls me across his chest and crushes his mouth to mine. I taste myself on his tongue and realize I don't feel polite or buttoned-up about a single fucking thing anymore.
"Alright." I slide off him onto my back against the pillows, feeling drunk on him and a reckless sort of courage I barely recognize, and tug at his shoulder. "Now get over here."
He comes willingly, rolling over me until the full, crushing weight of him is pinning me to the sheets. He kisses me deeper, his hands hot and sure where they press against my skin, and I lock my legs around his waist with a frantic urgency, needing tobe closer, needing to feel every inch of him until even that isn't enough.
His hands cup my face with a tenderness that makes my throat tight, then slide back to grip the nape of my neck, sending a shiver through my entire system. I'm completely gone for him, lost in a hunger so consuming I can barely remember my own name.
The kiss deepens and I melt into him further, the line where I end and he begins blurring until I think our souls might actually be merging. And if the look in those blue eyes is any indication, he feels it too. Then his mouth is back on mine and everything else simply falls away.
He shifts his weight and I pull him closer, gasping as he guides himself toward me. He's hard and ready, and I'm already so wet and desperate for him that when he finally slides in, my whole body sighs. I let out a shaky moan and he kisses me deeper, catching the sound with his mouth. As he feels me shiver and clench around him, he starts thrusting with a hard, possessive rhythm, keeping me pinned under the size of him, hitting deep.
I wrap my arms around his neck, meeting every unyielding stroke, arching up until we're tangled together in a frantic, starving dance. It feels as right as anything I've ever known, like we've always belonged exactly like this, like it was inevitable from the very start.
18
Cillian
We lie there in the quiet shadows, tangled and gasping, completely spent from the fire we just built. I roll onto my side, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, still catching my own breath. Margot stares up at the ceiling for a long second, then props herself up on one elbow, resting her palm flat against my sternum and studying my face with those dark, glassy eyes.
"Well," she breathes, a small, sleepy smile tugging at her mouth. "No matter what else happens, I think we can safely conclude we're good atthatpart."
I chuckle and shake my head. "Your ability to flip-flop from total panic to that level of smugness is a sight to behold, Ace. Though I suppose being a legend in bed has its perks, according to those articles—ow!”
She pinches my side hard, her eyes narrowing in a playful threat. "You really need someone to help keep that ego in check.”
I laugh, pulling her flush against me and burying my face inthe curve of her neck. "As long asyou'rethe one doing that, I'd die a very happy man."
She laughs, a soft breath against my collarbone, then pulls back just far enough to look at me, her face going quieter. "So. Are we actually doing this? No more strictly business?"
"That's the plan." I brush a stray strand off her forehead, and my hand stays against her cheek afterward, because it seems I've lost the ability to keep my hands off her. "My whole life's a bit of a burning wreck at the minute, if I'm honest with you. The suspension, the press, the whole circus. But you're the one thing I've no doubt about. Not a flicker of one."
She smiles, slow and warm. "Good."
“Aye?” I ask, grinning. "Are you okay dating an athlete? Or should I be handing in my resignation to the Renegades?"
"No way. I’m actually starting to find it sexy." She leans down and kisses me, slow and unhurried, then sinks back into the pillow beside me. "Do we keep it quiet for a bit? Us, I mean."
"Us dating?" I pause to consider. "Is that what you want?"
She nods slowly. "I think so. Not because I want to hide you. But maybe it'll give the fans time to put the pitchforks down until you're back playing, and time for me to ease in before all your millions of followers find out. I think roughly half the women on earth might actually murder me."
"Then we wait." I hook a knuckle under her chin and tip her face up to mine. "Whenever you're ready. However you want it, Ace."
She smiles, looking relieved. "Really?"
"Aye, we'll figure it out. If I'm playing well, easier to control the story. If I'm playing badly, well, I'll just have to fight harder to protect you from it." I chuckle, though there's a darkness under it as the reality looms back in. I'm itching to get back on the ice, and dreading it in equal measure.
She studies me. "You know, you make fun of my breathing techniques?—"
"Hey, I did not make fun. I observed, respectfully." I press a hand to my chest. "I'll not have this slander on my good name."
She giggles. "Okay, okay. But maybe it would actually help you before a game. And you know I'm probably going to take up boxing when we're back, since you were right, hitting things is weirdly great. So it's only fair you try one of mine. I bet the deep breathing would help."
