Page 39 of Cold Shoulder, Hot Take (Seattle Puckaneers #2)

The denim hits the floor and she’s standing there in just her panties, all curves and smooth skin. When she tries to cross her arms again, I catch her wrists.

“What did I say about these hands?”

“To keep them down,” she whispers.

“Good girl,” I murmur, hands tracing the curve from her waist down. “Do you know how many times I’ve watched you bend over to tie Blythe’s skates and had to think about penalty shots just to keep myself together?”

Her breath catches, surprise mixing with heat in her eyes.

“Your legs,” I continue, fingertips barely grazing the soft skin of her thighs. “I’ve imagined them wrapped around me so many times I’ve lost count.”

I cup her breasts from behind, watching her face as her nipples harden under my thumbs. “Now tell me something. Anything. Just keep talking.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she breathes, arching into my touch.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Her cheeks flush pink. “Dex...”

“Use that voice. The one that’s been driving me crazy for months.”

“I want...” She hesitates, then meets my eyes in the mirror. “I want you to touch me everywhere. I want to feel your hands on every part of me.”

“Fuck, yes.” I slide one hand down her stomach, pausing at the edge of her panties. “Keep going.”

“I want you to make me forget everything except your name.” Her voice drops to that husky register that makes my head spin. “I want you to show me what I’ve been missing.”

I slip my hand inside her panties and she’s already soaked. “Christ, Golda. You’re perfect.”

“Don’t stop,” she gasps when I start to circle her with careful fingers. “Please don’t stop talking to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the only woman you’ve ever wanted.”

I still my movements, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “You are. You’re the only one who matters.”

She turns in my arms then, hands fisting in my shirt. “Bed. Now. I need you.”

I lift her easily, carrying her to the bed and laying her down gently. She reaches for my shirt and this time I let her pull it over my head. Her hands explore my chest, nails dragging lightly over my skin.

“Your turn to talk to me,” she says, working on my belt. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to worship every inch of you.” I catch her hands before she can get my pants undone. “But first, I need to taste you.”

I hook my fingers in her panties and slowly pull them down her legs. She’s completely bare before me now, and the sight makes my mouth water.

“You’re so beautiful,” I tell her, settling between her thighs. “Every single part of you.”

When I finally put my mouth on her, she cries out, her hands fisting in my hair. I take my time, learning what makes her writhe, what makes her beg.

“Dex, please?—”

“Tell me,” I murmur against her heated skin. “Use that voice and tell me exactly what you need.”

“I need you inside me,” she gasps. “All of you. Please.”

I work my way back up her body, pressing kisses to every inch of skin I can reach. When I finally settle between her thighs, she’s trembling with need.

“Look at me,” I tell her as I slowly push inside. “I want to see your face when I fill you up.”

Her eyes flutter closed as I stretch her, and I have to grit my teeth at how perfect she feels around me.

“You okay?” I ask, holding still until she adjusts.

“More than okay,” she breathes. “Move. Please move.”

I start slow, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. But there’s only pleasure there, only want.

“Faster,” she demands, nails digging into my shoulders. “I won’t break.”

“Are you sure?” I tease, picking up the pace. “Because you feel pretty fragile underneath me.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” she gasps, meeting me thrust for thrust.

“Yeah, you are,” I agree, losing myself in the rhythm we create together. “You’re fucking perfect.”

When she comes apart beneath me, it’s with my name on her lips and her eyes locked on mine. I follow her over the edge moments later, burying my face in her neck as the world dissolves around us.

We lie there afterward, breathing hard, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest.

“So,” she says eventually, voice still rough from crying out. “My voice really does it for you?”

“You have no idea,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to her hair. “No fucking idea.”

“Good to know,” she murmurs with a satisfied smile. “I’ll have to remember that.”

We’re lying tangled together, her head on my chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin. In the dim light filtering through her curtains, she looks ethereal—all golden skin and copper hair spread across my chest.

“You know,” I say softly, catching a strand of her hair between my fingers, “everything about you is golden.”

She looks up at me, curious. “What?”

“Your voice—it’s like liquid gold when you sing. Your hair catches the light like fire. And when you laugh...” I tuck the strand behind her ear. “When you really laugh, you light up the whole room. Like sunshine.”

Her eyes soften, something vulnerable flickering there. “Dex...”

“Goldie,” I murmur, testing the name. “It suits you better than Golda. My golden girl.”

A tear slips down her cheek, but she’s smiling. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

“Good,” I say, wiping the tear away with my thumb. “It’s mine to call you. My Goldie.”

She kisses me then, soft and sweet and full of promise. When we break apart, her smile is radiant.

“I like it,” she whispers. “I like being yours.”

“Again,” I tell her, already hardening against her thigh. “I’m nowhere near done with you, Goldie.”

Her eyes widen, then darken with renewed desire. “Already?”

“Baby, I’ve been wanting you for months. One time isn’t going to cut it.” I roll her beneath me, settling between her legs. “I’m going to fuck you until you forget every other man who’s ever touched you. Until the only name you remember is mine.”

“Dex,” she breathes, already arching into me.

“That’s right. Say my name when I’m inside you.” I slide into her again, groaning at how perfectly she fits around me. “Say it when you come on my cock.”

This time I don’t hold back. I know her body now, know exactly what makes her fall apart. I use every trick I’ve learned, every technique that’s made other women scream my name, but with Goldie it’s different. It’s not just about the physical—it’s about claiming her, marking her as mine.

“Turn over,” I command, pulling out and flipping her onto her stomach. “I want to see that gorgeous ass while I’m inside you.”

She complies eagerly, presenting herself to me in a way that makes my mouth water. I take her from behind, one hand gripping her hip, the other fisted in her hair.

“You feel so fucking good,” I growl, setting a punishing pace. “So tight. So perfect. All mine.”

“Yours,” she gasps, pushing back to meet my thrusts. “God, Dex, I’m yours.”

I pull her up against my chest, one arm around her waist, the other cupping her breast as I continue to drive into her. “Look,” I command, turning her face toward the mirror. “Watch what you do to me.”

The sight of us in the mirror—her flushed face, my hands on her body, the way she takes every inch of me—pushes me to the edge.

“Come for me,” I order, my hand sliding down to circle her clit. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”

She shatters with a cry that I have to muffle with my hand over her mouth. The feel of her clenching around me sends me over the edge, and I bury myself deep as I come with a force that leaves me shaking.

We collapse together, both breathing hard. But I’m not done. Not even close.

“Bathroom,” I say after catching my breath. “Shower. Now.”

The hot water cascades over us as I press her against the tile wall, lifting her leg around my waist.

“Again?” she asks, breathless.

“I told you, Goldie. Months of wanting you. I’m making up for lost time.” I slide into her again, the water making everything slick and perfect. “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

The wicked smile she gives me nearly undoes me. My sweet, proper hockey mom has a dirty side, and I plan to explore every inch of it.

Hours later, tangled together in her bed, her body is marked with my touch, her voice hoarse from crying my name. And I know with absolute certainty that she’s ruined me for anyone else. Just as I’m dozing off she whispers into my chest.

“Wednesday,” she says quietly. “The hearing.”

“We’ll figure it out.” I tighten my arms around her. “Together.”

She looks up at me, something vulnerable in her expression. “What if we don’t? What if he gets the kids?”

“That’s not going to happen.” The fierce protectiveness in my voice surprises even me. “I won’t let it.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can promise that I’ll do everything in my power to stop it.” I cup her face, making sure she sees the determination in my eyes. “You and the kids—you’re mine now, Goldie. And I protect what’s mine.”

Something shifts in her expression, surprise giving way to something deeper. “Yours?”

“If you’ll have me.” The words come out rougher than intended. “All of it. The good days and the bad ones. The custody battles and the late-night phone calls. The whole complicated, messy, beautiful package.”

Her eyes fill with tears, but she’s smiling. “That’s a lot to take on, Malone.”

“I’ve never wanted anything more.” I brush a tear from her cheek. “You, Tyson, Blythe—you’re my family now. The one I never knew I needed.”

She kisses me again, deeper this time, and I can feel her pouring everything into it—her fear, her hope, her trust.

“Okay,” she nods. “Yes. All of it.”

Morning hits like a bad check to the boards. For a second, I’m completely lost—this isn’t my place, isn’t some hotel room after an away game. Then Golda shifts against me, and it all comes back.

Her bed. Her house. Last night.

My phone says 6:15. Early, but not crazy early considering the kids need to get to school and I’ve got morning skate at 10. I slide out of bed, trying not to wake Golda. After yesterday’s shit show, she needs the sleep.