Page 64 of A Vegas Crush Collection #3

We get a five-minute warning and the trainers back off.

I take it easy on her, landing a few kicks and punches that barely graze her.

She gets extra feisty, though, and picks up her speed and footwork.

I can see her expression turn competitive, and, honestly, I have to work at it to keep my cock from going hard.

Seeing her go fierce like that is a serious turn-on.

And because I’m thinking about milk and cookies or the colors of the Peruvian flag to avoid major embarrassment, she lands a square, hard punch straight to my jaw.

I back up with an “oof” sound, my eyes going wide as she dances around, super proud of herself for landing a bona fide haymaker to my dumb face.

The bell sounds and we touch gloves before crawling out of the ring.

“I’m so sorry I hit you that hard,” Reagan says, pulling off her gloves and touching the spot where she landed her punch.

“No, you’re not.” I’m laughing. “You were dancing around like Muhammed Ali. You were totally pumped and proud of yourself.”

“Okay.” She’s grinning up at me. “I was. But I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” I say, waving it off. “I feel good about your ability to clock someone. It’s a good thing.”

We wander back toward the locker rooms and stop in front of the door to the all-gender changing room. I lean in and kiss her. “I have to admit, I was turned on out there.”

Her grin gets wilder, wickeder, as she pushes me through the door to the single occupancy room.

She locks the door and pulls off her workout shorts, baring her pussy to me.

I pounce, of course, shoving her against the door, fingers probing inside.

She moans and nearly crawls up my body as we kiss—hard—her hand freeing my cock from my shorts as she shoves the waistband down and aside.

I’m inside her in a heartbeat, holding her up, hands on her ass as I pound into her. She begs for it, harder, faster, and I oblige, filling her to the breaking point until she comes with a loud cry that I smother with another searing kiss, swallowing her cries of pleasure.

My orgasm follows and I pull out, spilling my release on the inside of my bunched-up shorts, my forehead against hers as I ride the wave, her hand pumping me dry the way she’s perfected. I fucking love having her delicate hand wrapped around my cock while I get off.

She wiggles down to stand on her own. “Wow,” she says, giggling at me. “Welcome baaack, Mr. Hockey!”

“That was—wait, what did you just call me?”

“Yep,” she says, pulling on the other leg of her shorts while I grab a paper towel to clean up my mess so I can walk out of here and into the shower.

“Mr. Hockey is your superhero name. I told you I needed to think of one for you and that’s it.

And yeah, whatever you’re thinking about what that just was—it was the best part of my day so far. ”

“I’m so glad, and I’d like to try improving on the ‘so far’ if you’ll let Mr. Hockey take you to dinner.

” The nerd in me is stoked she thought about and came up with a superhero name for me.

How fucking cool is that? It’s a good one, too.

I dig it. This girl. I think…I think she might be the most special person I’ve ever met.

“Can’t,” she says with a pout. “I have a shift tonight.”

“Bummer.” I mean it. “I missed you while I was gone.”

She smiles and it nearly brings me to my knees. “I missed you too.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just stay home and feel sorry for myself. Mr. Hockey all alone waiting for some superhero job to do.”

“You’ll be fine. And hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“I got a call from a real wedding planning company. I applied for a job there and I have an interview on Thursday.”

“Hey, that’s cause for celebration!”

“Don’t jinx it,” she says. “But I’m excited.”

“Well, I’ll make a dinner reservation for the night after. We’ll either drink to our sorrows or celebrate our successes. Sound good?”

She pushes up on her tiptoes to kiss me. “Okay. Sounds good. Now give me a thirty-second lead so people don’t see us sneaking out of here together. I don’t want anyone razzing us for being naughty.”

I’m grinning like an idiot as she peeks out the door and makes a run for it. I definitely don’t wait thirty seconds, but I do give her the lead, and then stroll out and down to the men’s locker room for a quick shower.

Outside the gym, I’m waiting for her so I can walk her home. She looks surprised to see me. “I wasn’t expecting you to wait for me.”

“Eh, I assume we’re going to the same place.” We walk while I mull over what I really want to say. “You know, I went to the gym to blow off steam. But seeing you? It had the same kind of effect.”

“Well, orgasms will put anyone on cloud nine. Great orgasms, especially.” I feel my cheeks heat, and she giggles at the sight of me blushing. “I like seeing you happy, though. Smiling. You do it so rarely. You’re so serious all the time.”

“I could say the same about you, Reagan.”

“You could, but I wasn’t always like this. I was silly and lighthearted. Hard to believe, huh? Since I’m such a drama magnet now?”

“No, I can see it, still. You’re in self-protection mode. It’s hard to shine when you’re just worried about survival. But I can see it. It’s the thing that makes it hard for me to stop thinking about you.”

Reagan blushes a deep shade of pink at my comment. She covers by joking, “Is it hot out here?”

“You’re hot,” I say, winking.

“No, you’re hot,” she says. “Especially when you do that one thing…”

“With my tongue?”

She laughs, but it slips from her face after a moment. “I’m sorry I brought all this drama into your life, though. Seriously.”

“We’ve already talked about this, Reagan.”

“I know. I just…I guess I wish we’d met before all of this. I wish you could have known me when I was more carefree.”

“I like you just the way you are, though. I mean, I’ve never been carefree, so it’s not something I look for on a résumé.”

She snorts. “Yeah, you probably came out of the womb brooding.”

I pull a face but don’t deny it. “I do understand you, Reagan. I like where your heart is at. I like that you protect the people you love. And I’m glad we can make each other smile, despite life’s bullshit.”

Holding hands, we walk the remaining block, content in each other’s company.

She smacks me on the butt as I step off the elevator at my floor. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, okay?” she sings at me with a tilt of her head.

I turn and watch as the elevator doors start to close and shove my hand in to keep it open. “For sure, but if you need me to bring you home tonight, just throw me a text and I’ll come. I should be awake.”

She clutches her hand to her heart and looks up at me, all gorgeous and smiley.

“‘Texting Mr. Hockey at Midnight’ sounds like a movie. Okay, I will.” She blows me a kiss as the elevator doors are closing, the sassy smile on her face giving me all kinds of ideas for later, when I have her in my bed.

Where I can make her come until she can’t keep her eyes open.

Then I can watch her sleeping and know she’s safe beside me and nobody is going to hurt her.

Why do I suddenly feeling like this “friendship” needs to be something defined as a lot more than just friends with benefits?

You know why, Mr. Hockey.

You’re falling in love with this girl, and you need to tell her.