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I close my eyes and say the most important thing I will all night. “I wanted to pick you up to make sure you got home safely.” It’s dark and not safe for her to be out walking, even if it is with friends. It shocks me how much I already care for her. “And I never saw you as the one needing to be saved. It’s me that needs saving… from myself, mostly.” I let that information settle between us, open my eyes, and look deep into hers. “I think you’re the one who can do that.”
I love hockey with every fiber of my being, but lately, I’ve been feeling like I need more. All I do is watch game tape replays, condition training, practice, and play hockey and while I love what I do, I’ve always craved more. Maybe Lily is my more.
Her curved lips turn into a full-blown smile. “For a man who doesn’t say very much, you sure know how to leave an impression.”
“You left an impression on me.” I point at my face.
“The impression of your face was left on the door,” she jests, chuckling at her own joke, and I smirk at how she seems to like finding humor in the smallest of things.
Tilting my head to the side, out of curiosity, I ask, “You’re a virgin?”
She buries her face in her hands and muffles, “I can’t believe I told you that.”
I reach up to remove her hands, hiding what she thinks is a shameful confession, and make sure she hears every word I say next. “I think it’s beautiful that you’re saving yourself. Your body is yours. You get to decide what you do with it. Please don’t ever feel embarrassed by your decision.”
She bites her bottom lip before she says, “Thank you.”
In all honesty, I want to be the one and the only man she ever lets touch her body. The idea stokes the fire growing within me.
“You kissed me,” she says, as if not believing it. “I’ve never been kissed like that before.”
I don’t tell her that, despite my sore and bleeding nose, I’ve wanted to kiss her from the moment I laid eyes on her.
I nod. “I should have asked your permission, but I figured it would be the only way to get you to stop talking.”
She cringes at herself and then repeats what I said earlier as if making sure she heard me right. “You wanted to take me home?”
“I did.” I give her thighs a squeeze.
“You didn’t want to meet me to return my scarf?” Her expression grows serious.
I move in for another kiss, unable to resist tasting her again. “I wanted to see you, Lily.” My lips brush hers. Chests touching my heart hammers against hers. “I’m holding your scarf against its will.”
Her lips confidently cover mine, our tongues dancing together, and her velvet soft mouth becomes demanding. She then breaks our kiss and asks, “Do I need to raise a ransom to get it back?” Her tone holds a note of mockery, and she doesn’t give me a chance to answer before she smothers me with her lips again and mumbles against them, gasping, “You’re a really good kisser.”
Sucking her tongue into my mouth, I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her firmly against my body as I lose myself in her touch, taste, and addictive fragrance.
Dropping kisses down her neck, she moans in pleasure when I lick, then suck her sweet spot behind her ear.
“You’re so hard,” she whispers breathlessly.
I thrust my hips upwards, pushing her center against my cock. My mouth finding her earlobe, I gently bite it, then whisper, “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”
Open mouthed, panting, she moans again, grinding herself down on me. “I meant your body, Ash,” she scolds me. “But that too.” She giggles sweetly and I want to make that the sound of my ringtone.
I lose count of our kisses as we both lose control, our bodies burning for one another.
Kissing has always been okay, I guess, but it’s never been fueled by the levels of passion and heat I feel between us. Frantically grabbing the back of my neck, she whimpers loudly as she rubs herself against my cock. I stop her from doing it again, otherwise, I’ll come in my boxers. “We can’t do this here.” I’ve said this before. “You are very distracting.” And fucking delicious. No way am I treating her like sex is all I want with her. Because the truth is, I want to see where this thing between us goes.
There is also the worry that the press is never far behind me either. They are always on the prowl, waiting to pounce and find me in compromising positions. It’s been four years and they are yet to do so, but that just seems to make them more desperate.
I keep my nose clean. I’m the least controversial member of the team, donating to charities, visiting group homes and the children’s hospice. I continue to carry the torch of my father’s immaculate legacy.
My father was a stickler for loyalty and, just like him, I refuse to be photographed with puck bunnies for fear of being associated with them or accused of dating them.
I keep my private life, just that, private.
But the press is hungrier than a pack of starving lions.
