Page 27 of Game Changer (Wynn Hockey #5)

Her hand slides to my chest, rests there, then glides up until her fingertips brush my bare neck. My entire body goes electric, humming and tingling, my dick hardening. I cup her cheek so gently,

We move together out of pure instinct, turning into each other so we’re pressed together at our mouths, chests, groins, our legs tangling.

My hands roam over her. I want to feel her everywhere so goddamn bad, but she’s wearing a lot of thick clothing.

Still, I skate a hand over the indentation of her waist, the arch of her back, the curve of her ass.

My hand lingers there, squeezing, pulling her tighter.

She feels so fucking good against my throbbing dick, and yet not good enough.

She whimpers and moans as our mouths suck and lick at each other, hotter, wetter, lust building inside both of us.

We’re making out and petting over our clothes like teenagers, until I slide my hand up under her hoodie to feel skin, sleek and hot.

I stroke up and down her back, tracing the delicate bumps of her spine, over the band of her bra, then I cup her breast.

She reacts with a swift intake of air, but pushes greedily into my palm.

“Damn,” I groan, giving her a small squeeze. “You are so fucking perfect.”

She makes a small noise in her throat, her hands all over me, grabbing my shoulders, my arms, then my ass. I shift my mouth to her cheek, kiss her jaw, brush my lips over her throat, suck gently on the tender skin just above her collar bone.

“Oh God. Jax.” Our hips are bumping together, seeking more.

“I know.” I take her mouth again, licking inside to taste her sweetness.

Her hips are rolling against me with need, and I know just what it is she wants. I slip my hand under the elastic band of her leggings and give one firm cheek a squeeze. She’s wearing thong underwear and it feels like she’s bare. “You want more, sweetheart?”

“Oh yeah.” She sighs against my mouth. “I need more.”

“This?” My fingers slip daringly between her cheeks, then lower. I brush my fingertips over the softest, plumpest flesh.

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

I change our position inside the sleeping bag, easing her onto her back, sliding my arm beneath her shoulders. I slink my hand into the front of her panties and cover her mound.

“Please,” she whimpers, clutching my shoulders.

I move my hand, grazing over her pussy, up and down, pressing with the heel of my hand, delving with my fingers. I encounter slick wetness that makes me so hard I hurt. My heart is pounding so hard it’s in my throat, and pressure coils in my balls.

“I want to make you come,” I whisper, brushing my lips over her cheek.

She slowly closes her eyes, then opens them, staring up at the incredible sky above us. “This is unbelievable.”

“I know. It couldn’t be more perfect. You feel amazing, sweetheart.” I graze her clit and her entire body jolts.

“Oh God…there.”

“Yeah? Right here?” I circle wet fingertips over the nub.

“Right…there.” She sighs, turns her face into mine and kisses my cheek. “Oh my God.”

I fucking love this. I love making her tremble, making her breath hitch. I love having my fingers where she needs them most. I rub faster, her hips lifting against my hand, her breaths coming faster. Then her clit swells against my fingers, her hips lift, and she lets out a low wail.

“Beautiful.” I touch my mouth to hers. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Yes,” she gasps, her body quivering.

I cup her again, feeling her pulse against my palm. Then she rolls into me and I wrap my arms around her to her hold her against me.

She burrows against my chest. “My nose is cold.”

I laugh softly and tap her ass. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I feel her smile. “But I don’t really care.”

“How often are you going to get an aurora borealis orgasm?”

“Wow.” She lifts her head slightly to peer up at the sky. “I don’t even know what to say. Except…”

“What?”

“ You didn’t get an aurora borealis orgasm.”

“Uh, true. But maybe that should wait until we’re back at the cottage.”

She bites her lip and her gaze finds mine in the darkness. “With me?”

I sense her uncertainty. “I sure hope so.”

Her lips tilt upward. “I can’t wait.”

We stay a while longer, admiring the ever-changing lights as we drink the rest of the wine.

When they start to fade, we pack up our stuff and load it back into the car.

Everything is closed and dark as we drive along Wasagaming Drive, past the shops and gas stations and the movie theater.

As I pass Columbine Street, I hammer on the brakes as I see a dark shape. I quickly pull over.

“What are you doing?” Molly asks.

“Look.” I point up the street. Now under one of the lights, a black bear meanders along the sidewalk.

“Oh my God!” She claps her hands over her mouth and stares. “A bear!”

“Yeah.” I grin.

“Now I’m going to be terrified to get out of the car.”

“He’s a long way from us.”

“He could have friends.”

I slowly start forward, turn the corner and follow the bear at a distance until he disappears into the bushes on the other side of Tawapit Drive.

“That was pretty cool,” Molly admits.

But when we get to the cottage, she hesitates before opening her door, scanning the yard.

“It’s clear,” I say, amused. I lean over and cup her face in both hands, turning it toward me so I can capture her mouth again.

She opens to me and I slide my tongue inside, tasting her.

She makes a little noise in her throat and sets a hand on my shoulder, kissing me back.

I kiss her again, and again, slow and lush and wet, and then I draw back.

She gazes at me with hazy eyes and soft, pouty lips.

Good, good. She’s forgotten about the bear.

“Let’s go in,” I murmur.