Page 26 of Any Second Now (Fort Collins Blizzard Hockey #2)

“What do you want to do today?” Atticus’s green eyes are locked on me.

“I dunno.” I shrug. “Cross-stitch?”

“Can you teach me?”

“I’m sorry, what?” I snort, because I heard him, but, what?

“Teach me to do cross-stitch.”

“You want to learn to do cross-stitch.”

“Yes.”

“You, Atticus Knox, professional hockey player, want me to teach you to do cross-stitch.”

“Correct.” He lowers his mug to the counter. “I’m getting the impression you don’t think I can do it.”

I laugh. “I don’t think it’s an ability thing.” I glance down at his hands. “Although you might struggle to thread the needle.”

“Let’s do it.”

“Alright. Let me get dressed.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re seated at the table with supplies spread out in front of us.

“I’ve been wanting to do a how-to for my social media,” I say. “But haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Perfect. Let’s make a video together. You can promote it by saying you taught a hockey player to cross-stitch. ”

“That is actually hilarious.” I cock my head. “Would your PR person approve?”

“You mean my sister?” Atticus smirks because yeah, Lucy is the Blizzard’s head of PR. “Yeah, she’d be okay with it.”

I chuckle as I set up my phone.

“Ready?”

“Yep.”

I click record.

“Alright.” I turn to Atticus to start the video’s introduction. “I’m Raleigh Hayes, and today we’re going to teach my friend to do cross-stitch. Want to introduce yourself?”

Atticus lifts an eyebrow.

“I’m Atticus Knox, first line right wing on the Fort Collins’ Blizzard NHL team. And I’m very excited to learn cross-stitch.”

“Great. So here’s your hoop with fabric already inserted and a pattern attached.” I push a six-inch hoop toward Atticus with white fabric hooked in and a pattern pinned on top.

“Excellent.” He picks up the hoop. “I’m ready, coach. Teach me all you know.”

“I’ll do my best.” I crack a smile. “You can make some flowers and I’ll work on stitching a quote.”

“What quote are you working on?”

“One that you inspired, actually.” I hold up a half finished hoop.

“So far it just says zombies prefer brains ,” Atticus says. He adjusts his baseball cap and smiles at me.

This might be really, really good for views and sales.

“You didn’t let me finish.” I touch the empty space beneath the first words. “I’m going to add: so you’re good .”

Atticus laughs with a bright white beautiful smile.

Damn, he is charming. And good looking. And a lot of fun. And takes an interest in me and my life.

“What’s next? ”

I show Atticus how to pull apart the yarn and start a simple stitch with some red thread for roses.

“Like this?” Atticus hold up his hoop after five minutes. There’s a completely uneven row of five cross stitches.

“Um.” I press my lips together and touch the hoop. “You are learning, that’s for sure.”

“You’re not impressed.” Atticus looks devastated, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes.

“Everyone has to start somewhere, chicken.”

“Did you just call me chicken?” Atticus’s jaw drops. “I thought I was rebound?”

“Okay, I’m stopping the video.” I tap the red button and crack up. “I need to know where to edit out the inappropriate bits.”

“Why ever would you want to do that?” Atticus lays his hoop down and leans over to me, touching my chin with his pointer finger and bringing his lips to mine. “I need a break anyway,” he says against my mouth.

“We’ve only been doing this for like ten minutes.” But the breath is quickly escaping my lungs as he moves his lips to my neck—he’s so damn good at that—and slides a hand under my shirt up my back.

“More like five.” Atticus tugs me by my waist until I’m firmly on his lap. “You are so hot when you’re doing cross-stitch.”

“Words I never thought I’d hear,” I say with a breathy voice. I shift on his lap and can feel how hot he thinks I am. There’s an ache between my legs and I wiggle on him. He groans and brings his lips back to mine, swiping his tongue inside rhythmically.

Somehow he gets us off the bench and onto the loveseat where we first watched the zombie movies together, and I’m on my back with him tugging my leggings off. My underwear comes too, and I close my knees as cool air hits my pussy.

“Last night was too fast. All three times,” he says, nudging my legs open and looking down at my center. He swipes a finger along my slit, causing a gasp to escape my throat, and moans when he finds me wet. “So ready for me.”

And I am. I’m ready for him, more than I have ever been for a man.

Physically, of course.

Do I like him? Yeah, I do.

I’ve known Atticus for more than a decade. But watching him kneel over me, his green eyes greedily watching as he rubs my most sensitive spot and I grind down on his hand, I wonder how I managed to suffer through sex before Atticus. God, that is dramatic, and I know it, but this is something else.

I’m going to come too fast, and it’s embarrassing.

I close my eyes and try to slow down the ripples of pleasure that are starting, a precursor to the waves that are building in the distance.

My eyes fly open when I feel Atticus’s rough cheeks on the inside of my thighs working their way up to my center, and then his tongue is doing all the work.

“Oh my god, Atticus.” I arch my back as he slides his hands under my ass and presses his face into me.

I can’t help it. I come so fast and hard that I reach back and grip the armrest behind me for stability.

“That’s my girl,” Atticus rasps, coming up for air after all the waves have subsided.

“That was embarrassing,” I whisper.

“Why?” Atticus stands and chuckles as he grabs a tissue from the table to wipe up his face.

“I’m so easy to please.” I watch him as he adjusts his erection in his athletic shorts and close my legs, wiggling to ease the ache that is still there. Or there again, I’m not sure. “At least with you.”

“Good. Want to go back to doing cross-stitch?” He nods back to the kitchen table and our abandoned cross-stitch materials.

“Definitely not yet.” I push up onto my elbows. “Do I need to beg again?” But then I laugh, the sound deep and suggestive, as his eyes darken and he pulls his shirt off so fast I hardly see it happen.

“We’re going to an actual bed, Raleigh Hayes.” And then Atticus swoops me up into his arms like a bride on her wedding night and whisks me to my bed.

“Any way you want me,” I say as he lowers me onto the bed ten steps later and is magically naked. I pull off my sweatshirt and watch him swallow as he takes in my loose breasts.

“Turn around.” He licks his lips. “On all fours, Raleigh.”

I pulse between my legs and comply, getting on my knees and already breathing hard as I stick my ass in the air toward him.

“Fuck, Raleigh, your ass is so good.” He gives me a light slap on one of my cheeks and I startle, but then lean into it. “You like that?”

“Yes.” I let my head hang. I guess he’s got a kink, and maybe I do too. Only one way to find out. “Do it again.”

Atticus chuckles and lightly slaps my ass again, then sinks his finger inside my pussy from behind. I lean back into him and whimper.

“You want this so bad, baby, don’t you?”

I nod my head.

He grips my ass in his hands and pokes his cock gently into my entrance. I cry out and press back into him, and he thrusts inside me in one swift gesture.

“I know I said I wanted to go slow this time,” Atticus pants behind me. “But I can’t help myself with you.”

“Don’t stop, please.” I feel like I’m a different person but also exactly me right now. This is all about pleasure and fun and going after what I want. And with Atticus? It’s exactly what I want. And need.

He doesn’t need any other encouragement and pumps into me hard, sneaking one hand around to rub my clit. This time the orgasm builds differently. Slowly. Giving me enough time to soak in what is happening.

I don’t really want to think too deeply about what this all means .

Not right now.

I don’t want to over think.

I do my best to focus on the feeling of Atticus inside me, the way I’m already clenching around him. But I can’t help but notice the way he’s whispering my name, so sweetly. Does he even know he’s saying it?

What is he thinking?

The waves of pleasure sneak up on me and then knock me down at once, and Atticus is moaning behind me as he comes, holding himself tight against my hips.

We collapse on the bed together a minute later. He smiles and lies on his side facing me. I turn to him.

“Why are you smiling?” I ask.

“Why are you smiling?” he retorts.

“Am I?” I touch my face with a finger and, yup, there it is. We both burst out laughing and he keeps his gaze locked on me.

“Should we finish that video?” I finally say, but he’s playing with my nipple and doesn’t look like he’s ready to leave this bed.

An hour later, I kick Atticus out of the Pink Palace as I know he needs to go work out and I need to edit the video we finally finished. And I need a freaking minute to process everything that’s happening.

Also, I have a whole shitload of texts from my friends checking in on me. I stopped responding to the group last night after telling them I was out with some of the hockey boys.

I settle down outside the Pink Palace facing the lake in one of the captain’s chairs, Megghen happily pecking away at seeds next to me, the peaceful view of the water soothing my soul.

The video is freaking adorable almost just as it is.

I just cut out the part where he called me coach and I called him rebound before he started kissing me.

He’s so cute and smiley in the video and oh my god.

Then there’s the gap where we paused the video and—my cheeks heat when I realize we came back looking subtly different. Hair mussed, cheeks pink.

Now it’s time to face my friends.

To confess what I’ve done. I bite my lip. Who I’ve done.

“Do I have to tell them?” I ask my chicken. Megghen looks up for a second and I swear she nods before going back to pecking.

“Yup, no secrets with your best friends,” I warn myself in Megghen’s chicken voice.

“I hate that you’re right.”