Page 34 of He Has Game (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
She smiles and damn if there isn’t a touch of sass in it, shooting a spark through my too hot system, creating the next level of readiness.
“You know I love when you kiss me. No excuse needed.” She turns her chin up, inviting me, and I bring my mouth to hers, cupping her face, testing her plump lips, touching and tasting, savoring and holding onto her as our tongues mingle. Concentrating on the sensations, nibbling at her lip, pressing hard and plunging all the way as my whole body heats up, I’m conscious of my heart beating wildly. Then I’m not conscious and let my instincts take over because that’s where I am, all feeling and sensation.
Moving my hand from her face, down her throat to the soft sweater, I cup her heavy breasts. Her moan moves me in all kinds of ways, familiar and unfamiliar, all excruciatingly tantalizing, testing my limits when I thought I was testing hers. She pushes closer, murmuring my name into my mouth, twining her soft warm hand in my hair, sending shivers of forbidden pleasure through me.
Slipping my hand down, I find the bottom of her sweater and slip my hand under it, touching the silky soft skin of her belly, skimming up her ribs to find the lacy bra. Unthinking and undeterred, I find the clasp and flick it open. When my hand settles on her plump, freed breast, her nipples beading up under my palm, I groan with pleasure like I’ve found the world’s last wonder.
But it’s her groan that sends my balls into a painfully needy state, and when she touches my pants, puts her hand over the rise of my cock, I flinch with that unbearable pain-pleasure sensation, so close to the breaking point. She doesn’t press or grab. It’s excruciating, filling me with intense need, approaching the point of no return. I’m about to tell her she’s in that danger zone, but when my cock jumps she takes her hand away, saving me. I let her mouth go and we stare at each other.
The desire I see in her green eyes clear as day almost makes me pull her back into my arms to take her and damn the consequences. She clearly wants more than either of us can afford. In spite of the diamond cutter in my pants, I manage to separate myself from her.
Standing, I say, “I better go.”
The forlorn look on her face, the swollen red of her well-kissed lips, her messy hair, make me close my eyes.
“I’ll arrange for us to go ring shopping first thing in the morning.” I grab my jacket and leave while she’s sitting stunned on her couch, looking hurt, and watch as the emotions cycle through to puzzled then resigned. I know why she looks that way, not accusing me, though I feel the accusation. She doesn’t move, doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even nod her head in acknowledgment.
Because I’m such a fucking bastard I don’t deserve it.Keep your hands off her, Finn. And your mouth and every other body part away from her.
Hitting the cold air, once I’m on the street, helps clear my head of the picture of hurt on her face, but the guilt stays. I owe her more than a steamy kiss and feeling up her breasts like we’re a couple of teenagers. Or I owe her an explanation of why I can’t go further because I know she expects me to. Walking home, when I get to the end of the street, I remember I forgot all about the ravioli.
Fuck. Serves me right. I smile, glad of the small penance.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I call Ham, who doesn’t complain even though it’s close to midnight.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your late night call?”
I hear noise in the background and realize he’s still out. Not with the team, but he has his own cronies to drink with, or maybe a woman. I get straight to the point.
“I need you to arrange a visit to Shreve Crump & Low. Private showing tomorrow morning at eight so I can make it for the morning skate.” There’s a beat of silence on the line aside from the sound of music and people laughing in the distance. I wait him out. It’s not like I’m a demanding client. In fact this is the first time I’ve asked him for anything in spite of his constant inquiries and insistence that if I need anything I should let him know.
“Any reason for the hurry? We might have a contract, but it’s fucking midnight.”
“Because the day after tomorrow we’re leaving for a three-day road trip.” No way to explain about the pressure from the Boylston Foundation. “I know it’s a big ask, but it’s important. Besides, it’s the first favor I’ve asked.”
“True. You’ve been an easy client. Up until now.” He takes a deep breath and says, “Consider it done.”
“I owe you.”
“Just win the Stanley Cup. We got some bonus money riding on it. Not to mention bragging rights.” He ends the call and I let out a relieved breath in a cloud of cold air as I reach my building.
* * *
At seven thirtythe next morning Vivvie and I are in a cab on our way to Copley Square on the other side of town to pick out the diamond. Vivvie was ready and waiting out front of her building when I got there. Maybe she doesn’t want me coming up to her apartment anymore.
“Sorry for the early call, but it’s rush-hour traffic, so it’ll be a twenty-minute ride,” I say. She says nothing and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s always quiet in the morning or if she’s pissed at me. I open the door for her and she gets in. I slide in after her.
“I brought you coffee.” I hand her one of the cups in the holder. Whether she’s pissed at me or not, I know I have to make up for last night. She gives me a ghost smile and takes the coffee. I’m not sure how she feels about me anymore, but I’m sure how I feel about myself.
I’m a fucking douche. I shouldn’t have sat on that couch with her. I shouldn’t be toying with her heart. We need to clear the air but I’m far out of my area of expertise here and I’m not sure what to say.
“About last night—” she says, taking the initiative.
“That should be my line,” I say. “I’m sorry. I was way out of bounds. You’re hands-off and I don’t know why I couldn’t keep my hands off you. No excuse for it. But it won’t happen again.”
She takes it well until the last part, then her face falls and I know I’m in deeper shit than I’ve ever been in. Because I can’t stand seeing her sad and disappointed. And because I know that, with the least provocation from her, it absolutely fucking will happen again.
“That’s too bad. I have to be honest, Finn. I was disappointed when you left.”
