Page 82 of A Vegas Crush Collection #2

a good fit

Zoya

Hours later.

I bite the inside of my lip as we step into Ty’s apartment, feeling suddenly very nervous.

We haven’t had really any private time together since our meeting on the ice.

So much celebrating and so many traditions to carry out after winning the most sacred prize in all of hockey, the Stanley Cup.

We’ve been out with everyone, had a million pictures taken, and seen the Vegas Strip explode in Crush colored lights.

The whole city is one giant party right now that probably won’t stop for at least a week.

But now our moment alone has come.

What if it’s not the same between us? It’s been weeks and we haven’t even spoken.

Maybe his feelings have changed? Maybe now that he doesn’t have the kids living with him, he wants to go back to his old life.

It was simpler, I suppose, in many ways.

And yet, when I think of his face when he saw me on the ice—the raw happiness—I cannot doubt his feelings. How I’ve missed this man.

He flips on a lamp, filling the darkness with warm light that makes his blond hair shine like a halo.

Tyler. My Ty. He has his glasses on, black frames that make him look studious, serious. Until I read his T-shirt, which says, If hockey was easy they’d call it soccer.

“That shirt is stupid,” I say, pointing at it.

He looks down and shrugs. “Meh.”

“I mean it. Take it off.”

He makes a face before his mouth forms an oh. “You want me to take my shirt off?”

“I do. I really do.”

“No big talk? No catch-up?”

“We can talk while you take your shirt off.”

Tyler grins. “Okay. You’re the boss. Also, you’re bossy.”

“We’ve wasted so much time, and I don’t want to waste another minute.”

When he pulls his shirt over his head, I reach out to trace the lines of his tattoos with my fingertips as he shivers.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he growls, pulling me to him, his lips finding mine in a searing, hot kiss that has the power to make my toes curl.

He lifts me up and suddenly I’m on the dining room table as he kisses my breasts through my Crush jersey. My nipples ache against my lace bra—one I bought especially for seeing him again. He pulls the bottom of my shirt up, kissing my belly as heat pools between my legs.

I touch every panel of his stomach, the curves of his defined pecs. He’s a machine, well-honed and at the top of his game. I can’t believe he’s mine.

“You are mine, right?”

His head pops up, a question in his eyes. “Did you mean to ask that out loud?”

“Yes and no,” I answer.

His laugh is light. “Yes, I’m yours, baby. For however long you want me.”

“Oh. Good.”

A lopsided grin, and then, “Oh good?”

I push my lips together to keep from smiling. Ty makes his way up to kiss me, forcing me to let go. I kiss him back, still smiling. “I am so in love with you. I was worried you might have changed how you felt about me.”

“Never." His accent makes it sound like nevah and I swoon at the sound. “I missed you every minute of every day. You ruined me for anyone else. All I see is you.”

He picks me up and takes me to the bedroom, where we spend long minutes undressing each other.

When I’m down to just my lace bra and thong, Ty has me stand so he can look at me.

His gaze is dark and powerful as he stalks in a circle around me, his finger caressing the most sensitive skin of my backside, the sides of my stomach, the inside of my forearms. I break into gooseflesh.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, hands down. But you are so much more than that to me. I know I’m a rookie when it comes to love and relationships, but I’m here for this with you, Smokeshow.”

“Me too,” I say, suddenly feeling shy.

“I love you.” His voice is husky; he’s so hard beneath his boxer briefs. Hard for me.

I reach out, licking my lips, my eyes on his as my hand finds its way beneath the cotton to find his hard cock, the silky skin of him filling my hand. He pushes my thong aside and slips his finger inside me, finding me ridiculously wet and wanting.

We kiss, just touching each other for so long that it almost feels dreamlike. It’s quiet in here, and the only sounds are our soft sighs and moans and kisses.

I feel the buildup and I want to come so badly. I want him to feel me come, but not on his fingers. “I’m ready,” I breathe. “Make love to me?”

Tyler slowly moves us toward the bed, where he removes the last two items of my clothing from my body, staring at my nakedness, taking his fill of looking. It only makes me hotter for him the way his eyes darken like a hungry wolf about to pounce.

His shorts are last before we are both fully naked, only the evening lights of Vegas illuminating us through the window. We fall onto the bed in a jumble of limbs, Tyler positioning himself on top of me, his lips never leaving mine.

When he pushes inside me, it’s a tight fit.

It hurts a little, at first, but then I breathe as he fills me all the way.

I’m full of him, and it feels so right and perfect.

He kisses me deeply as he starts to move, gradually, taking slow strokes, filling me up and retreating, whispering words telling me how much he loves me, how beautiful I am.

I let myself go and float along on the ride of Tyler making love to me.

It’s a ride I hope never comes to an end.

It’s so good but I am ready for more. When I whisper to him my request, he hears me. Then he pulls my legs up to his shoulders and suddenly, he is so deep. So deep, it nearly takes my breath away. He goes into another mode of constrained wildness. I love it.

I wrap my arms around his back as he pushes in and out and in and out, in long, hard thrusts, in a delicious rhythm that hits against every sensitive part of me until I feel the start of the tingling, out-of-body orgasm that will crash through my body with a powerful wave.

I cry out, lost in a haze of pleasure and his kisses, climaxing again and again like it will never stop. On a wave that will carry me forever. I feel like I’m floating somewhere in the outer reaches of space but safe and protected and loved.

Only when it subsides does he let himself go, thrusting so incredibly deep when he fills me up with his release, groaning out my name on every hard thrust and jet of his cock spilling deep, deep inside me.

I feel tears trailing from my eyes. And then I feel his lips kissing them away with more whispered words about how falling in love with me was the best thing to ever happen to him in his whole life.

We lie together for a long time, catching our breath, my head on his chest, his hand caressing over my body wherever he can reach.

“This feels like home,” I whisper. “Being here with you. It felt like home the minute I walked in.”

“It’s not the place, it’s the person,” he says, kissing my head.

“You feel like home to me. I want you here with me all the time. I need you, Zo. Since that first day at the tattoo shop. And I know you have a lot of life to live. You have school and goals and I don’t want to get in your way at all. I need to make that clear.”

He’s so serious, it makes me giggle. “I hear you and I appreciate you supporting my goals. I want to finish school, too, but I want to do it with my best friend at my side.”

“I’m still your best friend?”

“My best friend. My love. I don’t care about the label. I only care about you.”

“Well, I kind of care about the label. I mean, can I officially say you’re my girlfriend without some Kolochev tryin’ to take my head off?”

“You can. All Kolochevs are supportive. Even Irina, who is now sleeping with some guy who works at a coffee bar and has a man-bun.”

“That sounds like a better fit.”

“We are a good fit.”

“We are. I can’t believe I ever found you.”

“You were looking?” Then I laugh and shake my head. “No, you were not looking.”

“I wasn’t, you’re right. But now that I have you, I’m never lettin’ you go, Smokeshow. That’s my truth and it always will be.” He presses me back down into the bed and starts to kiss me again in all the right places, his big body enveloping mine as if any space between us is too much.

“Round two?” I ask, just as Ty’s stomach rumbles. “Or maybe we should order you some food?”

The question is answered as he rolls onto me fully hard and ready to show me again precisely what he needs right now.

It’s not food.

His tongue worshipping, and his fingers strumming, all over me and into my most sensitive places, I lose my capacity for speech.

However, in this moment together with him I am consumed by my own important truth.

I love this beautiful hockey boy with all my heart.

How glad I am that I walked outside that tattoo parlor door months ago simply to offer a listening ear.

Because, it doesn’t matter how our worlds intersected, how I thought I’d feel smothered if I loved a hockey boy. Turns out, we are the best fit because I understand him. The pressure. The ferocity. The strength. The devotion. After all, I’ve grown up with that for all my life.

I now know that all those qualities—which he throws passionately into hockey—will be how he passionately loves me with his whole brave and valiant heart.

Forever.