Page 11
S tephanie
Stephanie paced the hotel room, shoes discarded by the door, her stockinged feet silent on the carpet. Her phone sat on the nightstand, face down. She couldn't bear to look at the countdown clock again. Fifty-eight hours and dwindling, with tomorrow's flight back to New Haven eating up precious time they needed to solve this mess.
A soft knock at the door stopped her mid-stride. Her heart skipped, then raced as she checked the peephole—Marcus stood in the hallway, still in his game day suit minus the tie, his features softened in the dim corridor light.
She opened the door, stepping back to let him in. "Did anyone see you?"
"No." Marcus entered, placing his keycard on the dresser. "Most of the team's already in their rooms. Kane and Dmitri went to the hotel bar."
The door clicked shut behind him, and suddenly the room felt much smaller. The king-sized bed loomed in her peripheral vision, an unspoken possibility between them.
"I was thinking about the data breach," Marcus said, removing his suit jacket and draping it over the desk chair. "The pattern suggests—"
"Marcus." Stephanie interrupted softly. "Can we not talk about Reed right now?"
He paused, eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "What would you prefer?"
The question hung between them, loaded with everything they'd been circling for weeks. Stephanie stepped forward, abandoning her carefully constructed phrases. Instead, she placed her palm against his chest, feeling his heart race beneath her fingertips.
"I don't want to discuss anything," she said, holding his gaze. "I've spent my whole career finding the right words for every situation. Right now, I'm tired of words."
Understanding dawned in his eyes. His hand came up to cover hers where it rested against his chest, his palm warm and sure.
"You're sure?" he asked, voice deepening to a tone she'd never heard from him before.
In answer, Stephanie rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. Unlike their previous kisses—hurried, stolen moments of lost control—this one began soft and deliberate. An invitation rather than an explosion.
Marcus responded with equal tenderness, his hand sliding to her waist while the other cradled the back of her neck. The gentleness of his touch belied the strength she knew his body possessed, sending a shiver down her spine at the contrast.
When they parted, his eyes searched hers. "Stephanie, if this is about distraction from the situation—"
"It's not," she interrupted, then reconsidered. "Or not entirely. I've wanted this—wanted you—since before Reed made his move. Maybe even since that first press conference where you corrected my player statistics in front of the entire Boston media corps."
A smile played across his lips, transforming his usually serious features. "When you told me I needed to learn the difference between data and narrative?"
"You were insufferable," she murmured, fingers working on the buttons of his dress shirt. "Still are, sometimes."
"You called my analytics 'soulless number-crunching,'" he reminded her, his hands finding the hem of her blouse.
"They were." She helped him ease the silk over her head, suddenly conscious of her simple black bra. The cool air kissed her skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with temperature. "Until you started seeing the people behind the numbers."
His eyes darkened as they took in her newly revealed skin, a flush spreading across her chest under his gaze. When he looked at her like that—like she was something precious and desired—it stole the breath from her lungs.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, hands hovering just above her skin as if seeking permission.
Stephanie took his hands in hers and placed them on her waist. "Touch me, Marcus. Please."
His palms slid up her ribcage, thumbs tracing the undersides of her breasts with a reverence that made her ache. When his hands finally cupped her fully through the thin fabric of her bra, Stephanie couldn't hold back a soft moan.
Their mouths met again, the kiss deepening as his thumbs brushed over her nipples. Heat pooled low in her belly, an insistent throb building between her thighs. She pressed closer, feeling his arousal against her hip.
Her fingers resumed their work on his shirt buttons, eager to feel his skin against hers. She pushed the fabric from his shoulders, revealing the body she'd glimpsed in training rooms and caught herself watching during practices. The reality was better than her imagination—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, defined chest dusted with dark hair, and the various scars that told the story of his career on the ice.
"Your turn," she murmured, reaching behind to unclasp her bra.
The garment fell away, and Stephanie fought the urge to cover herself as Marcus's gaze traveled over her bare breasts. The nakedness felt more profound than physical—as if she were finally allowing herself to be truly seen by this man who noticed everything.
He lowered his head, pressing his lips to her collarbone, then trailing down to the swell of her breast. When his mouth closed over her nipple, heat lanced through her body, drawing a gasp from her lips. His tongue circled the sensitive peak before sucking gently, the sensation shooting straight to her core.
"God, Marcus," she whispered, fingers threading through his short hair to hold him closer.
His attention shifted to her other breast, lavishing it with the same thorough devotion while his hand continued teasing the first, rolling her nipple between his fingers with just enough pressure to make her whimper. Her knees weakened as he alternated between teasing licks and gentle suction, discovering exactly how to make her tremble.
Stephanie reached for his belt, needing to feel more of him. The leather slid free, followed by the metallic rasp of his zipper. His breath caught when her knuckles brushed against his arousal through the thin fabric of his underwear.
"May I?" she asked, fingers at his waistband.
"Yes," he breathed, the single word filled with need.
Stephanie sank to her knees, drawing his pants and boxer briefs down in one motion. His erection sprang free, and she took a moment simply to look at him—all of him, from the powerful thighs that drove him across the ice to the hard length now inches from her face.
She wrapped her hand around him, the skin impossibly soft over rigid heat. Marcus's sharp intake of breath sent a thrill through her—the knowledge that she could affect his carefully maintained control so profoundly was intoxicating.
Holding his gaze, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth. His eyes darkened, pupils dilating as she slowly took him deeper. His hand came to rest at the nape of her neck, not guiding but simply connecting, fingers tangling in her hair.
The taste of him, the weight on her tongue, the soft sounds he made as she established a rhythm—everything heightened her own arousal. She tightened her lips, using her hand in concert with her mouth, watching his reactions to learn what pleased him most.
His breathing grew ragged, abdominal muscles tensing as she took him deeper. When she hollowed her cheeks and swirled her tongue around his tip, his fingers tightened in her hair.
"Stephanie," he warned, voice strained. "I need to—I want—"
Before she could respond, Marcus was drawing her to her feet, his hands gripping her waist as he captured her mouth in a kiss that stole her breath. Without warning, he lifted her completely, strong hands supporting her thighs.
Stephanie instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, a gasp escaping her at the sudden display of strength. The few steps to the bed seemed to take forever, her body hyper-aware of every point of contact between them—his hands gripping her thighs, his chest against her breasts, the hardness of him pressing against her center through her skirt.
He laid her on the mattress with surprising gentleness, his hands moving to her waistband. "May I?" he echoed her earlier question.
"Please," she nodded, lifting her hips to help as he slid her skirt and underwear down her legs.
The cool air against her heated skin made her shiver, vulnerability washing over her as she lay completely exposed before him. But the way Marcus looked at her—like she was both a miracle and a necessity—chased away any self-consciousness.
He knelt between her parted thighs, his hands sliding up her legs with deliberate slowness. When his thumbs brushed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, Stephanie's breath hitched in anticipation.
"I've thought about this," he confessed, voice rough with desire. "About tasting you."
Heat flooded her cheeks at his words. "Show me," she whispered.
Marcus lowered his head, placing open-mouthed kisses along her inner thigh, working his way higher with torturous patience. When his breath finally ghosted over her center, Stephanie's hips lifted involuntarily, seeking contact.
The first touch of his tongue against her sent electricity coursing through her body. A moan tore from her throat, her hands fisting in the bedsheets as he explored her with alternating soft and firm strokes.
"Marcus," she gasped, one hand moving to tangle in his hair.
He hummed against her in response, the vibration adding another layer of sensation that made her thighs tremble. When he found the perfect rhythm against her most sensitive spot, Stephanie's world narrowed to nothing but the heat of his mouth and the pleasure building inside her.
One of his hands slid up to caress her breast, fingers teasing her nipple in time with the movements of his tongue. The dual stimulation was overwhelming. Her hips moved against his mouth, chasing the mounting pressure.
When he slid a finger inside her, curving upward to find the spot that made her see stars, Stephanie cried out his name. A second finger joined the first, stretching her deliciously as his tongue continued its relentless attention.
The orgasm built with startling speed, tension coiling tighter with each stroke of his tongue, each thrust of his fingers. When it finally broke, pleasure crashed through her in waves, her body clenching around his fingers as she arched off the bed.
Before she'd fully recovered, Marcus was moving up her body, his expression a fascinating mixture of satisfaction and raw need. He reached for the nightstand, retrieving his wallet and extracting a condom.
Stephanie's heart raced as she watched him tear the foil packet. She reached out, taking it from him. "Let me."
Her fingers trembled slightly as she rolled the condom over his length, the intimacy of the act somehow more profound than what had come before. When she finished, she drew him down for a kiss, tasting herself on his lips as her thighs parted to welcome him.
"I need you," she whispered against his mouth, a confession that meant more than the simple words conveyed.
Marcus positioned himself at her entrance, his eyes holding hers as he slowly pushed forward. The stretch and fullness as he entered her drew a long moan from Stephanie's throat. He paused, giving her time to adjust, his arms trembling slightly with the effort of restraint.
"More," she urged, lifting her hips to take him deeper.
He began to move, establishing a rhythm that started slow and measured but gradually increased in urgency as their bodies demanded more. Stephanie wrapped her legs around his waist, changing the angle to take him deeper, each thrust hitting places inside her that sent sparks shooting along her nerves.
Sweat glistened on his skin, the muscles of his shoulders flexing beneath her palms as he moved above her. His eyes never left hers—the connection between them extending beyond the physical, something profound passing in that locked gaze that she couldn't name but felt to her core.
When his hand slipped between them to circle her sensitive bundle of nerves, Stephanie felt herself building toward another peak. Her breath came in short gasps, her body tightening around him as pleasure mounted.
"Look at me," Marcus whispered. "Stay with me."
The intimacy of his request, the vulnerability in his eyes as he said it, pushed her over the edge. She came with his name on her lips, her body pulsing around him in waves that seemed to go on forever.
The sensation of her release triggered his own. Marcus's rhythm faltered, his movements becoming more urgent as he chased his completion. Stephanie held him tightly, whispering encouragement against his ear until he stiffened in her arms, a deep groan escaping as he found his release.
For several moments they remained joined, breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together in the aftermath. When Marcus finally moved to dispose of the condom, Stephanie felt a momentary emptiness that surprised her with its poignancy.
He returned immediately, gathering her against his chest as if unable to bear the separation. His heart thundered beneath her ear, gradually slowing as they lay entwined in the quiet hotel room.
Stephanie traced lazy patterns on his chest, marveling at how natural it felt to be here with him like this. All their professional differences, the contrasting approaches that had once driven them apart, now seemed to complement rather than conflict.
"What are you thinking?" Marcus asked softly, fingers drawing circles on her shoulder.
"That I never expected this," she admitted, pressing a kiss to his chest. "Us."
"Neither did I." His arms tightened around her. "But now I can't imagine it any other way."
The simple honesty of his words warmed her more than any passionate declaration could have. Stephanie tilted her face up, finding his lips in a gentle kiss that held promise rather than urgency.
Later, as sleep began to claim her, the exhaustion of the game, the emotional roller coaster, and their physical connection catching up all at once. The last thing she felt before drifting off was Marcus pressing a kiss to her forehead, his arms creating a sanctuary around her that felt, against all odds, like coming home.