Page 85 of Put a Rink on It

I can’t even chastise myself for being so amenable to him. The promise of multiple orgasms is enough.

“You sound so sure of yourself,” I tease.

“I’ll own that. My tongue is talented. I’d like for you to disagree.” His challenge issued, he sits back on his thighs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Something I can’t do.”

“Thought so,” he mumbles, drawing a laugh from me.

Nero maneuvers himself so his head’s between my legs, grabbing my ass to shimmy me still closer, rendering his pillow stack pointless, but I’m not stupid enough to bring it up. I’d rather he get on with the orgasm.

Without hesitation, his tongue darts inside my seam, the intrusion desirable. One touch is all it takes for a moan to fall from my lips. The more he licks, nips, and laps at my lips, the more intense a need for release hits.

My fingers fist the blankets under us, and my hips writhe and buck as his mouth demolishes me. He sucks my clit into his mouth. He licks from the clit down the length of the seam. He pushes one finger inside me. All the while I chase the high of euphoria.

Of satiety.

Of release.

My eyes close as tension twists in my abdomen, and I get closer to the spiral. I don’t know how he makes each time better than the one before, how the same actions on his part can feel so different given my state of mind.

My state of arousal.

True to his word, it doesn’t take long for me to scream, his name echoing off the bare walls. It seems like he doesn’t let up, and the feeling of flying intensifies the longer he draws it out. He’s nibbling like I’m his favorite snack, and he can’t get enough or eat fast enough.

“Ne-ro,” I pant.

“Good, right?”

“So. Good. I need more.”

My eyes open, and Nero stares at me, a smile on his lips. He eliminates the distance between our mouths, fusing them for a swift kiss. Only with him will I allow it. With him, it doesn’t faze me where his mouth was moments ago. Not much does when it comes to intimacy with Nero, which has been the case since the beginning. He was the first one I wanted to go down on me. He rewards my boldness, supports me when I want to try something new, and encourages a side of me usually dormant.

I’ve always felt most like myself and most alive with him. No wonder I can’t say no to him. I don’t have to hide any parts of me.

“Ready for more?”

“With you? Always.”

CHAPTER 27

nero

Unlike our visit with the Keeleys, this one with the Champions is utter rubbish.

Kaitlyn’s the only one who’s shown any true emotion about the news of our engagement, and with weeks to process it and get over the initial shock, it’s been positive. She and Marina have been up in her childhood bedroom for hours, laughing like old friends, giggling like tweens with a schoolyard crush, and discussing fictional people as if they know them, as if they’re real. I’ve spent the time making small talk with my parents, who, it seems, I have even less in common with now.

My mother spends her days—and their money—shopping at the boutique stores downtown. Dad’s all about the history, spewing details about things he’s learning about the area as if I’m interested. Which I’m not. I can’t say I’m pretending to listen well. They’re country clubbers, though when Dad invited me to go golfing with him this afternoon, I agreed immediately.

Living in Minnesota didn’t lend itself to too much golf, but I want to give the sport a try. A lot of hockey players play, especially in retirement. Not that I want to think I’m that close to retirement, it’s closer than I’ll admit. A dozen years of skating hard for hours on end, being tossed into the boards, a boatload of injuries, combined with the emotional toll hockey takes, add up on a body. Some guys don’t make it to thirty—I’m fortunate in that way.

Marina and Kaitlyn shuffle into the kitchen, and Marina steals my breath. Officially living with her hasn’t been without minor challenges—she doesn’t like how I do laundry, load the dishwasher, or have the TV tuned to ESPN in the background—but it’s also been the best week of my life having her invade my personal space and making it ours.

“We’re going shopping and getting our nails done,” Kaitlyn announces.

“And then to the bar. For Kaitlyn,” Marina adds, winking at me.

Kaitlyn gestures chaotically behind her. “What she said. She’s gonna be my wingwoman.”