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Tobaskin it.
To let it curl up in my heart, expand in my middle, to wrap me up in its warmth.
To love him, all by myself, just for a little bit.
He brushed his knuckles over my cheek. “What were you gonna say, baby?”
I loved him.
That felt…great.
Perfect.
And because of that, I needed to find a perfect way to tell him.
So, I held in the urge to blurt out my feelings to him, smoothed my hand over the bristles of his beard, and teased, “You had to block yourselfallthe way to midnight?”
His mouth curved, green eyes dancing. “Not going to just eleven-thirty, Rosie baby.”
“No”—I brushed my mouth over his—“I guess you wouldn’t.”
That brush turned into more.
Into something that distracted me from planners and stickers and fancy declarations.
Into something that distracted us both from anything except getting naked…at least until Fox came to the trailer and pounded on my office door and Joel had to scramble to get dressed and rush over to the rink.
Iwas in less of a hurry—mostly because I was practically boneless with pleasure.
Luckily, Joel hadn’t been.
He hadn’t…well…he gotten to that point yet.
But he’d had his pregame warmup.
He just…also had plenty of pent-up energy to work off on the ice.
Bonus?
Heh.
I’d make it up to my poor, abused hockey player boyfriend later.
Forty-One
Joel
Billie Rose sighed, rolled over in my arms, the hem of the Rush jersey riding high on her thighs, giving me a glimpse of the lush curves of her ass, and yeah, this was exactly where I wanted to be.
Her body pressed to mine.
My hands on her naked skin.
Luckily, she seemed to feel the same.
Howdid I know this? Because she was in my bed without any underwear on, that jersey with my last name and number clinging to the curves of her body.
I’d seen it that morning.
