Page 3 of A Million Times, Yes

I didn’t know her name, where she lived, or, surprisingly, how loud she could moan, given how many women I’d slept with in this city.

But I knew her body—which was only ever covered in a pair of spandex shorts and a sports bra—from the amount of time I’d spent staring at it.

After the first week, she progressed to a “Good morning,” combined with her smile, and today, in just a few more blocks, I would be gettingthat greeting again. At least, I assumed I would. She hadn’t missed a day yet—not even on the weekends.

I rounded the corner, and as I came to the cross street, I glanced down the sidewalk.

Fuck, there she was: the best part of my day.

Skintight shorts that cut off mid-thigh and a sports bra that showed off the hardness of her nipples, in a color I hadn’t seen on her before.

All white.

And if I’d thought the other colors looked good on her, they didn’t compare to this.

This was exceptional.

This was making my fucking dick hard.

I quickly adjusted my hard-on, and as we got closer to the crosswalk, I got that smile out of her and a “Good morning,” and she moved a few lengths ahead, passing through the empty intersection.

I hung back as usual to take in the view.

The white material hugged her heart-shaped ass, outlining her cheeks in a way that showed me every dip, every arch, every tuck.

I couldn’t run with this goddamn beast throbbing in my shorts, but I wasn’t giving up this sight for anything. Without her eyes on me, I could slide my crown under the waist of my boxer briefs to keep it in place; I just had to deal with the wanting.

And there was far too much of that.

Every time my feet hit the pavement, the desire to have her sit on my face and squeeze her ass increased. But my fantasies didn’t end there. They went on for miles as I dreamed about all the ways I would fuck her, how I would make that body come, how I would get her to scream my name so loud, her voice would turn hoarse.

If my older brother, Gavin, were here, or one of my friends, they’d ask why, after two weeks, I hadn’t yet made a move or at least gotten her name.

A valid question, for sure.

The only answer I could come up with was that this had been one hell of a chase so far, and I loved every second of it.

Except the part I was seeing right now.

There was a biker up ahead on the cross street, and instead of riding in the bike lane, he was on the sidewalk. At this hour, he probably hadn’t anticipated too many people would be out. But he was about fifteen yards from the end of the block, and with how fast he was pedaling and how quickly she was running, they were going to T-bone.

I knew she didn’t see him; she wasn’t slowing.

And I knew he was assuming she would, because he hadn’t dropped his speed.

Motherfucker.

I lengthened my stride, pushing against the asphalt to close the distance between us, and when I reached her side, seeing her earbud, I was positive that no matter what I said, she wouldn’t hear me. I didn’t waste time talking or attempting to; I just wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her, making sure to stay on my feet and not let our momentum topple us over.

Hockey had changed my life in many ways, but this morning, I was fortunate for all my years of training and the ability to pick up someone as weightless as her while maintaining this rate of motion.

She gasped. “What the hell?” She pushed against my chest, and since I was holding her from the side, I turned her toward me in my arms. Once our eyes locked and she realized who was holding her, how close our faces were, she uttered, “What are you doing?” She took out both earbuds.

“Saving you.” I gripped her with only one arm and pointed toward the biker, who had already passed. “From him.”

Her lips separated as she stared at his back. “My God. I didn’t even see him.”

“I know.”