Page 68 of Goalie Secrets
We settle across from each other. He opens the wine while I serve the tossed salad. When I take the first bite of his cooking, I close my eyes to savor the paches. It tastes even better than it smells. Savory and spicy, it warms me down to my toes. Jeremy leans over the table, watching my reaction.
“So?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
“Amazing. I could eat this every night,” I answer honestly.
He laughs, lifting his wine glass. “If that’s all it takes to keep you coming back, I’ll stock up. Cheers.”
We clink our glasses and resume dinner. He entertains me with hilarious stories of locker room pranks through the years.
“For every new player from the minors, we mess with them at practice.”
“Hazing?”
“Nah. Stupid stuff like putting shaving cream in their skates or leaving their water bottle slightly open so it splashes on their face.”
“So, middle school pranks.”
“Basically. How about you? Any bonding stories from medical school?”
“I don’t usually socialize with people from work.”
He tilts his head in a pose of curiosity. “But you’re friends with Sabrina.”
“That’s unusual, to be honest. Though being in a private practice instead of a hospital lends itself to more… interactions.”
Jeremy’s eyes glisten with amusement. “‘Interactions’ is such a Dr. Kapur description of the workday.”
I blush. “Are you saying I’m unfriendly?”
“Not at all.” He leans over to hold my hand across the table. “You’re great at your job. Everyone respects and admires you as you are. It’s just an observation that you keep most people at a certain distance.”
“I haven’t managed much of a distance with you.”
“Aha, that’s because I’m special.”
“And so very humble.”
He lifts my hand to kiss my knuckles. “You’re not too far from the truth, Vanya. You choosing to spend time with me is humblingandgreat for my ego. The fact that we have, ahem,interactionsthat you don’t have with anyone else is a major turn on.”
I look down at my half-eaten meal and realize my hunger is no longer for food. Our eyes meet. It’s obvious Jeremy is thinking the same thing.
“I thought you were going to put me on your lap to feed me,” I venture.
His eyes blaze with interest. “What a bad host I’ve been. Come over here so I can make things right.”
He pushes his chair back to make room for me. My bottom slips comfortably over his strong body. Our arms keep each other in place as I wiggle to nestle against the hardness pushing past the thin fabric of his pants.
“Fuck, I needed this,” he groans before kissing me.
The wine we’re drinking is sweetened by Jeremy’s natural flavor. We explore each other’s depths, tongues tangled in a dizzying dance. I’m so focused on the feel of his shoulders and his playful nibbling of my lower lip that I don’t realize his hand has crept under the hem of my dress. When a finger grazes my clit, we both inhale sharply.
“Are you wearing sexy underwear?” The question comes out in a low, sultry tone.
I nod. As if that’s the signal he’d been waiting for, Jeremy lifts me abruptly and carries my not-light body to the couch. He sits me down and kneels on the floor between my thighs. On instinct, we reach for each other to continue the bruising kisses. Jeremy pulls me to the edge, lifting my hem completely so the red lace peeks out.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he mumbles after breaking our kiss to stare down at my exposed body. In a swift motion, he’s removed my underwear and slung my legs over his shoulders. The graze of his lips teases my inner thighs before applying sensual pleasure over my soaked center.
“Oh, Jeremy, yes. Yes. Oh, god.” I am a mess of sounds and a bundle of stimulated nerves. He licks in measured strokes, enough to deliver pleasure but not satisfaction. Building me up and holding me back, Jeremy controls—owns—my body. It’s almost painful how much I need to come. “Oh, please. Just like that. Oh, ye—”