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“Yes?”
“I’m too old to get off on your thighs on a sofa. Take me to bed.”
Before the last word is out of her mouth, I’m standing, holding her against me, walking over to what I think is the door to her bedroom.
It’s not. It’s the laundry room.Shit.
“The next one,” she whispers in my ear, trying not to laugh. “And you can put me down if I’m too heavy.”
“You’re not too heavy.”
“Yes I am.”
“You’re not. And even if you were I’m not putting you down. I’m too old to fall into that trap.”
“What trap?” she asks innocently, trying not to smile. I let out a victory grunt as I find the right room and stride over to the bed, throwing her onto the mattress.
“The weight trap.”
“There’s a weight trap?” Her eyes widen with interest. And I feel like I’m walking right into said trap without even thinking.
I clear my throat. “There’s a media trap that makes women think that they have to weigh a certain amount or look a certain way to be desirable. Which is fucking nuts.” I curl my hands around her thighs, pulling her toward me. I’m still standing at the end of the bed, but as soon as her knees hit my waist I drop to my own, pulling her shorts off on my way down.
She sits up, leaning back on her elbows. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think?”
“I… Oh…” Her breath catches as I bury my face between her legs. The last time I breathed her in layers separated us.
This time it’s pure, unhindered Mackenzie. And it’s amazing.
“Are you smelling me?”
“Shut up.” I slide my tongue against her and it seems to do the trick. She stops asking questions and lets out a long, soft moan.
She tastes even better than she smells. I devour her, licking her to the edge, teasing her with the bend of my fingers, coaxing out her pleasure. She’s so tight against me, her breath stuttering, her body undulating, and then she lets out a loud cry as she soars.
It’s glorious.
Her eyes meet mine as I slowly bring her back down from her high, kissing her thigh, her hip, wanting to kiss every part of her. I can still taste her on my tongue.
“Come here.” Her voice is raspy. I do as I’m told, climbing up over her, kissing her lips this time.
She slides her fingers through my hair, kissing me back like she can’t ever get enough. Her body arches off the bed to get closer. Then she pulls my shorts down and that’s when I remember.
“I don’t have anything.”Goddamn it.
She blinks. “But you’re a hockey player.”
I lift a brow. “I didn’t come here thinking something was going to happen. Please tell me you have some?” I pray to the God of contraception that she does. But she shakes her head and I think I might cry.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “This was enough.”
“I have an IUD,” she whispers. “And I’m clean.”
I say nothing, because I’ve never gone bareback. And there’s nothing I want more right now. But this is her choice. I can’t influence her. She’s taking more risks than I am.
“It’s okay, we don’t have to,” she whispers, taking my silence for rejection in a way only she can. “I’ll just touch you.”
