Page 99 of Under Pressure

By the time I reach my door, my shoulder’s aching worse than it was on the plane ride and in the dugout yesterday. Dropping the bag at my feet, I use the code and watch the green light flash. The door swings open before I can reach for the handle.

Quinn’s warmth hits me first, then her scent, now tainted with hints of my body wash. I stumble back in the hall beforesteeling my arms around her waist and lifting her clean off her feet. The pain in my shoulder fades to a numbness as I walk inside and kick the door shut behind us, abandoning my bag.

Her hair is so soft against my face, and I inhale deeply, letting her fill my lungs in a way she hasn’t in nine days. It’s like stepping into a warm cabin after a night trapped in the snow. She melts me, and I fight against the urge to fall to my knees and bury my face in her stomach.

“You’re home,” she whispers, looping her arms behind my neck.

I grin and lower her to her feet. Dropping my hands to her ass, I give it a squeeze and arch a brow at what I feel. “I am, and you’re here.”

“Where else would I be?”

“It wouldn’t have been surprising if you were still at work.”

She swallows, and I feel the movement of it against my cheek. Her skin erupts with goosebumps when I rub my scruffy face against her.

“I tracked your flight.”

“Stalker.”

With a rough noise, she cups my cheeks and pulls me from where I’ve buried my face in her hair. Her gaze is so soft when it traces my face that it startles me. “You’re all bushy.”

“Do you like it?”

Her thumbs stroke the thick hair covering my jaw and around my mouth. I shiver, waiting for a reaction.

“If I said no, would you go shave?”

“Yes, but not right now.”

“Why not?”

I take her wrists in my hands, bringing them down to rest against my chest. She uncurls her fingers and presses them flat and wide. With space between us now, I ease my greedy gaze down her body.

It’s not the Havoc jersey she’s wearing that short-circuits my brain, but rather the lack of pants beneath it. And when I hastilyspin her around, I nearly come in my pants seeing Rourke written across the back mere inches from the bare underside of her ass cheeks.

“I haven’t so much as kissed you in nine days, Quinny. Don’t torture me,” I plead, ushering her close again and butting my nose against hers.

She wets her lips, breath hot against mine. “That’s really the first thing you want to do? Your bag is still in the hallway.”

“I don’t care. Everything of value is right here.”

“Aren’t you wondering where Bodi is?” is her whispered response.

My mouth brushes hers, giving me a fleeting taste. I drag my hand up her spine and wrap her thick red hair around my knuckles, using the hold to tug her head back. Her pupils grow, swallowing the blue-grey I’ve missed so much, before her lashes flutter, hiding her eyes from me.

“No,” I rasp.

“He’s with your parents.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” I promise, or threaten, maybe both.

She nods quickly, her breath hitching before vanishing entirely as I take her mouth in a rough kiss. My pulse races, and I spin us until her back crashes against the door. Surprise parts her lips, and I slide my tongue between them, finding hers waiting. They play while I grip her leg and hitch it around my waist.

With a throaty groan, I give her round ass a slap and swallow her surprised cry.