Page 6 of Best Kept Secret (The New York Thunder #3)

Putting a little more pressure on her clit, I slide my finger inside of her.

She’s so fucking tight. I thrust in and out with every inch, so slow until I’m in as far as I can go, and suddenly, she’s coming, falling apart with a beautiful whimper mixed with a moan, mixed with a sob.

And I claim her lips with mine, my tongue delving inside and lapping up every single one of her beautiful, sexy sounds as her thighs clamp around my hand when it all becomes a little too much for her.

When Millie finally releases my wrist from its chokehold, she sags back into the mattress, her chest heaving with breathless pants, eyes closed, and a blissed-out smile curling her pretty lips.

And as I remove my hand from her panties, I can’t help but groan at the sight of my fingers glistening with her release .

Millie’s eyes flutter open and I meet her gaze, staring at her as I bring my fingers to my lips and slowly suck them into my mouth, licking them clean.

Her mouth falls open on a silent gasp.

I smirk. “Holy shit, Red. I knew you’d be sweet as hell, but fuck me, you taste like honey.”

Her cheeks turn even pinker, her eyes roaming my face before traveling downwards. I see her mind work overtime in a matter of seconds before her gaze finds mine again. “Do you—” Pausing, she bites down on her bottom lip. “Do you want me to… you know?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” I grin.

A flash of uncertainty crosses her face, and I can’t help but chuckle.

“I want nothing more,” I say. “But I really should be getting back to the hotel before some asshole realizes I’m not there and makes a big fucking deal about it.”

“Oh… okay…” Millie murmurs, her face falling.

“Hey, now.” I reach a hand up and tuck a lock of her soft hair behind her ear. “Don’t think like that.”

Her brows knit together.

I flash her a knowing smile. “You’re thinking that this was just some one-time thing that meant nothing. That I’m going to leave and that’s that.”

“I mean—” She shrugs a shoulder, her smile forced and despondent. “What else can it be?”

“I don’t know. But I do know that I want to see you again,” I say hopefully.

“You live in New York.”

“I don’t know if you know this, Red,” I begin, seriously. “But there are these big things made of metal that fly through the sky.”

“Okay, smart guy,” she sasses. “What about my brother? You know, six-foot-four, loud, kind of obnoxious, your literal goalie? It’s not just you breaking the so-called rules. When Dallas first signed his rookie contract, he made me promise that I’d never cross the line with one of his teammates.”

“Really?” I balk because, honestly, the nerve. Dude is out there, banging chicks like it’s his life calling, and he makes his sister promise she won’t cross some bullshit line with one of his teammates? Now I know what girls mean when they talk about men and their fucking audacity.

“Yeah, but in my defense, that was when I was seventeen, and I assumed all hockey players were disgusting whores just like him.”

I study her pretty face, considering myself a moment. “He… doesn’t have to find out.”

Millie arches a brow. “Are you proposing we keep this a secret?”

“Not because I want to but… I won’t tell if you don’t.” I steady her with a suddenly serious regard. “Until we have to.”

She stares at me for a long moment before holding her pinkie up and offering it to me. I link mine with hers, but when Millie goes to kiss it, I quickly tear my hand away and swoop in so she’s forced to kiss my lips instead.

And lost in yet another kiss with this amazing woman, who in just a few hours has knocked me onto my ass in the best possible way, I don’t know how the fuck my night went from questioning everything in my life to being here, in a bedroom in Ann Arbor with my goalie’s little sister, but I honestly wouldn’t want to be anywhere fucking else.

With my hood pulled up over my baseball cap, I shield my face as best I can as I step onto the bus.

It’s early as shit, so thankfully no one is really paying too much attention.

Most of the guys are either asleep or zoned out with pods in their ears.

Except, of course, for fucking Happy, who stands from his seat at the very back of the bus and makes a big goddamn deal at my arrival .

“Where’d you disappear to last night, huh?” His eyebrows waggle in that way that’s just so him. “I hope she was hot.”

My jaw clenches as I make my way down the aisle, but my feet fail me the second I see Dallas’s head pop up, curious gaze finding mine.

I school my expression, tipping my chin at Happy as I murmur, “I told you. I waited with Tex’s little sister until she got into a cab, and then I came back here.” I force a laugh in an attempt at keeping the mood light. “I was wiped after carrying your ass on the ice last night.”

Happy flips me off as a few of the guys around the bus chuckle.

“Hey, man, thanks for doing that,” Dallas says, holding his fist up for me. I tap it with my elbow, passing him as quickly as I can, unable to look him in his eyes.

“How much do I owe you?”

I pause in my tracks and close my eyes a moment before glancing back at him over my shoulder.

“For the cab.”

“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” I say with a nonchalant shrug, all the while my stomach rolling with what little breakfast I was able to eat. Guilt will do that to you.

“I owe you one, brother.” Dallas winks at me and goes back to whatever he’s doing on his phone, and I swear I’d kick my own ass if it wouldn’t raise questions.

Trudging up the aisle, I toss my backpack into the overhead bin before plonking my ass into the seat next to Happy. I can feel him looking at me, but I ignore him, choosing instead to stare straight ahead.

“So,” Happy says after a moment, his tone more obnoxious than usual, if that’s even possible.

Here we fucking go .

“Are we just going to pretend like you don’t have a black eye, or…? ”

I shake my head, shrugging my shoulders like I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“What happened?” he presses, and even without looking at him, I can tell he’s smirking.

“Woke up with it.” I shrug again. “Must have happened during the game.”

“O-kay…” Happy says, but I can tell he’s far from convinced by the way he drags the word out. “And what about your knuckles? Did you bust those up during the game last night too, because I sure as shit don’t remember you dropping gloves.”

Inspector fucking Slater.

My gaze dips down to my hands, to my bruised, split knuckles, and instinctively I fold my arms across my chest in a sad attempt to hide the evidence.

Sighing, I rest my head back against the seat and close my eyes, fully aware of Happy’s intense focus on me, as I murmur a dismissive, “No idea what you’re talking about. ”