Page 73 of Slapshot Bride

Something in his voice changes just enough to make the smile on my face falter.

Somewhere during all the laughing and arguing, the distance between us has disappeared, and suddenly I’m painfully aware that I’m standing in front of him wearing nothing but a towel, my wet hair dripping down my back while his fingers are still loosely wrapped around mine.

His gaze holds mine as he releases my hand, only to bring his palm to my cheek.

His thumb sweeps gently over my skin, and the laughter that was bubbling in my chest seconds ago dissolves into something warmer.

My pulse kicks up.

When he lowers his head and presses his lips to mine, it dawns on me.

How close we’re standing. His body is an inch away from mine, and his palms on my cheeks are warm. So warm, I feel it down to my bones.

But that’s not all.

Easton Blake walked in on me in his bathroom. Singing and using his bathroom. With his towel now wrapped around me. And he’s not saying anything about it.

Do I… should I apologize? Is he even okay with this?

Oh God. I should have known better.

“Easton…” I rush to apologize, but his minty breath fans my lips just before he kisses me.

“Don’t,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Whatever you’re about to apologize for, don’t.” He kisses me again, and his arms hold my hips.

The towel shifts and I gasp into the kiss; my hands fly to the knot at my chest to hold it in place, but he doesn’t move. He kisses his way to my neck.

“You smell like my shampoo.”

“It was the only one in the shower.”

“I like it… I like it a lot,” He presses his nose to my neck and inhales deeply. “But I miss how soft and heavenly you smell when you use yours. I need to get multiple bottles of yours and keep them here.”

He flicks his tongue against the shell of my ear, and my body shudders. My arms move from the towel without thinking, and I clutch the sides of his soft gray cotton shirt. “Love having you here. Love coming home to you in my shower, in my towel, and God… Riley…”

“E-Easton…”

“Yeah…”

He kisses me carefully, his hand moving to the side of my neck. My hands fist on his shirt, pulling him into me, and the sound he makes wracks my entire being.

His hand slides down. Down my shoulder. Down to the loose knot on the towel, and he waits. My hand covers his, and I move them until it loosens.

The towel hits the floor between us, and he doesn't look down right away. He keeps his eyes on mine for one slow second.

Then he looks.

He growls, and trails his hand lower, between my breasts, down to my waist. His free hand sweeps across my ass and he lifts me. He picks me up under the thighs, and I wrap my legs around his hips on instinct.

He gently sets me down on the bed, and his mouth returns to mine briefly. His lips trail down my throat, to the valley of my breasts. He takes one hard nipple into his mouth and sucks gently, with his eyes fixed on mine.

I throw my head back in pleasure, but find myself looking down again, transfixed by this man, and the raw desire etched on his face.

He flicks his tongue against the hard nub and pulls back to undress.

He unbuttons his shirt, and I watch.

I have seen him shirtless, and asleep on this bed. I’ve seen him in all of his naked glory, in the dimly lit living room, standing over me, eyes burning with arousal.