Page 77 of He Has It All (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“My unicorn,” I say. If there ever was one, he’s it.
“If that’s what you want to call it,” he smirks.
My laugh is nervous as he moves to me, slow and deliberate with that athlete’s grace. We’ve been together before but it was never like this. I’m exposed completely here, my heart at stake. When I reach out to take him, my hand trembles.
He pushes me backward, down onto the bed, and moves over me. Enveloping me in his heat, he presses himself against my belly. My trembling nerves transform to quivering excitement.
“You’re stunning” The words rumble from him like a sleek expensive car whispering in my ear and revving to go. I look into his passion-glazed eyes. The fluttering in my gut turns to a wave of tremors, tumbling through me like an ocean storm.
“You are.” I hadn’t realized I have it in me to speak while I feel so emotionally buffeted, but I need to say even more. If I dare again.
“You know I’m in love with you,” I murmur in his ear as he nibbles at my vulnerable neck like the hottest sexy vampire who ever lived—or didn’t live.
I’m not sure he hears me as he slides his hands from my hip bones up my sides with an exquisite touch, not too light and not too rough. I feel the pads of his palms and the tips of his fingers feather over each goose bump he raises. Past the sensitive hollow below my ribs and then over each rib to the swell of my breasts. He moans at my throat—or was it my moan roaring in my ears? He lifts the mounds of my breasts from the sides and presses them together, lowering his face into the cleavage he creates and breathing, nipping, and murmuring something. I can’t hear what he says, but I sense the words of pleasure, feel them cover me like an electrifying skin of desire.
A molten fire of craving courses through me as he cherishes my body with every kiss and touch, turning every part of me, every cell into an extreme erogenous zone. My temperature rises and my skin gets slick under his fingers as they brand me with their touch, more shocking with each pass. He moves over me, coming face-to-face, and breathes into my mouth. The headiness of him weighing on me and heating me impels me to pull him close with my hands on his tight smooth ass and his throbbing need at the swell of my belly. I want more. The pain of longing fills me where I need him most.
The edge of release hovers near, he’s driving me so crazy with his touch. I seize him, pulling us together skin to skin along the length of our bodies. All thoughts of anything but having this man inside me, of being his and belonging to him, leave my mind.
A rolling tide of desire surges through me and takes over. There’s a well of something deep inside me that’s awakened to a pounding need. And now the fervor explodes and I wrap my legs around him as he slides inside me. Where I’ve been trembling, I now vibrate with the craving to have him, to be joined with him, to belong to him and to have him belong to me. My arms slip around his torso. I hang on, holding my now slick body close to his as he pulses inside me back and forth. Tasting the saltiness of him as beads of sweat drip over me, I lick the perspiration from his rough upper lip. He nips my mouth, pounding harder.
Slipping his hand between us, he touches me, finding my nub, swollen and more sensitive than it’s ever been. I cry out. Unstoppable clenching shakes me, makes me shriek and call out his name, hurling me to a kaleidoscopic burst of blinding pleasure to the point of passing-out pain. The pulsing of my passion cascades down through me even as he thrusts hard until I feel his cock against my inner limit. He surges to a throbbing swell until he releases and his spasms of pleasure shudder through me.
The dizzying effect of every cell in me heightens to an electrified pitch, but it doesn’t drown out the moans of pleasure, his raspy voice repeating my name and every endearment he’s never called me before except in my daydreams. I feel the tears on my cheeks and hold him tight, overwhelmed, grasping the back of his neck and his shoulders and running my hands through his damp hair like a blind woman marking my mate. He’s mine. I’m his. That’s the emotion that overwhelms me now at as we lie together, our hearts still hammering against each other and his comforting weight still pressing me.
After a long while of feeling him caressing my face, stroking my hair, and luxuriating in the heat of his body nestled against me, our heartbeats slow from the thundering staccato of heavy metal back down to the pace of a lazy waltz. Contentment settles in until the phone shrills in the distance. I struggle to rouse myself from his grip.
“What is it?” he asks, sounding sleepy, reaching for me as I rise.
“It’s the phone. It’s downstairs. It’s Mike from the bar. I asked him to call. I need to pick up my mom.” I slide away, smelling the sweat and sex waft up from the sheets and my exposed skin. The scent instantly fills me with a pleasure that makes me throb for him all over again.Damn. I’m so caught, so hopelessly past owning myself ever again. And I don’t care as I gaze down at him, his eyes opening, his face and body coming back to life.
“What time is it? I’ll come with you.” He gets out of bed, naked and glistening in the streetlights glaring through the open window. I look at the clock on the nightstand.
“It’s one thirty.”
“Fuck. No wonder I’m so tired.” He yawns as he slips on his pants. I finish dressing and put on my boots.
“This—tonight, our lovemaking—was magical,” I say.
“Yeah. We’re good together.” The gravelly sound of his voice pings that pleasure point in me that he owns. I stare, appreciating his new goofy smile.
He takes my chin in his hand, sweeping a sultry gaze across my face, and kisses me for all he’s worth. In a greedy, hungry, possessive claiming of my mouth, he rolls my lips around his and plunges his tongue until I gasp.
He lets my mouth go and stares into my eyes. My giddy smile is there as I stare back at him.
“Let’s go before I get carried away and we keep your poor Mom waiting.”
Ryan insists on driving in his car and I call Mike back on the way. His message was short, only said mom was more than ready for a ride home. In spite of my recent orgasms, in spite of being held and cherished by Ryan like never before, I’m frowning. Inside and out.
Don’t borrow trouble, Chelsea. I can hear my mother saying the words. They were the words that helped her get through my childhood after she lost her husband, the dad I hardly knew. The words she said to cope when Jason decided to join the Marines and was deployed to the Mideast. But I haven’t heard her say those words, or much else hopeful, in a lot of years. Four years. Since Jason died. Since the Olympics.
Four years since that night Ryan left my bed, rejecting me as a woman.
He reaches over now, puts a hand on my thigh, leaves it there. We’re almost there because Mike’s Bar is only a few blocks away, but he slows the car. The street is blocked and sirens are blaring.
“What the fuck?” he says. “Looks like there’s an accident.”
Everything in me goes cold. Everything that was warm and good a few minutes ago is now frozen with dread. His hand tightens on my leg. Blue lights flash through the windshield and I can see a crowd gathering, even at this hour. I feel like I’m strangling, my chest is unbearably tight.
