Page 43 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)

Maverick was only on the island temporarily.

He was so much younger than me. If the kids found out, they could get weird about things.

If they didn’t get weird and we all started hanging out, they would be sad when he left, and finally, the island was a breeding ground for gossip and rumors, and I’d done a very good job staying out of them so far.

Taking up with a man so much younger than me would put me right on the tip of everyone’s tongues, and that was the absolute last place I wanted to be.

My lawyer side had a really solid argument. She presented her case eloquently and even had the opposing side—my libido—starting to question things.

This was a terrible idea.

I pressed the start button again, and the engine roared to life just as the door to the cabin opened, and light pierced through the fog, backlighting his broad figure like he was some kind of demigod. “You coming in?” he called out, an amused tip to his mouth.

Releasing another deep breath and making my lips flutter like a horse’s, I nodded, turned off the vehicle again, and climbed out, taking my purse with me.

He tracked me like a panther watches a rabbit, around the vehicles and up to the front door, his eyes roaming my body appreciatively—hungrily.

I came to stand right in front of him on the threshold, the heat of him making me dizzy as he tucked one finger under my chin gently and brought his mouth down to mine in the softest, sweetest kiss.

My lawyer objected to her own argument as I wrapped my arms around his neck, and the judge—also me—threw the whole case out of court. The gentleness of our kiss only lasted about five seconds before we both sucked in deep breaths through our noses, and our animal instincts took over.

Spinning me around, he propelled us into the cabin, shutting the door with his foot.

He plastered my back up against the wall as my hands greedily roamed all over his body.

His very hard, very muscular, very strong body.

I gave a little shudder when he moved in closer and the erection in his sweatpants prodded my hip.

He continued to devour my mouth, and I let him. It’d been a long time since I’d made out with anybody, and I forgot how much I enjoyed it.

“I was worried you were going to cancel,” he murmured, scraping his teeth down my jaw before pressing his lips to my neck.

“I thought about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But … I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Me too.” He hoisted me up onto his hips and I locked my ankles behind him.

“Is this okay for your back?” I asked right before he took my mouth again and walked us through the cabin to the bedroom.

“Not going to be here for long.” And he was right.

The cabin was small, and we were in the bedroom in no time, collapsing onto the bed.

Ooh, it felt way too good to have his weight on me like this.

Especially when that iron bar in his pants kept poking my thigh.

He ground against me, and I spread my legs wider for him to settle between them.

“I thought we were going to talk ,” he said, kissing down my jaw to my neck again, then across my chest,

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tipped my chin to the ceiling and let myself just feel. “Yeah? Let’s talk.”

“We can talk and do this, right? You can multitask?” Lifting the hem of my shirt up, he continued his journey with his mouth, down my torso.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Okay.” He swirled his tongue around my navel. “I really like you. I think you’re hot. Smart, sexy. A bit uptight—”

I yanked on his hair and raised my brows at him.

He grinned, his mouth hovering over my hipbone. “But I like thinking of ways to loosen you up.”

“Good save.”

“And while I don’t know what the future holds, I think we both deserve to give this a shot, don’t you?

I think we both deserve to be happy and …

feel good.” Climbing back up my body, he pushed my cardigan off my shoulders, then together, we removed my tank top so I was lying there in just my nude-colored bra and leggings.

His gaze skimmed my body again, eyes glowing. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

“Take off your shirt,” I whispered.

Grinning, he reached behind him just the way guys in the movies do, and yanked his tight, white T-shirt over his head, exposing every rock-hard inch of his godly physique.

I reached up and raked my hand down his torso and whispered, “Holy shit.”

His smile turned a tad boyish, and his cheeks developed some color. “I’m more than just a six-pack, you know?” There was humor in his tone as he hovered over me.

“I know.” I reached between us and ran my fingers along the ridges again. “You’re an eight-pack.”

He chuckled as he balanced himself on one elbow, and used the other hand to flip the cup of my bra down, exposing a nipple. His mouth latched on, and I gasped. I’d always had sensitive nipples, and it’d been a very long time since a man had his mouth on them. I forgot how much I liked it.

Flicking the tip with his tongue, I bowed my back and moaned, wedging my hands between us and scrambling for the waistband of his sweats.

My baser instincts were taking over, and I ached to touch him.

To feel the velvet encased steel in my palm.

Pushing my fingers below the elastic and beneath his boxer briefs, I skimmed past the trimmed hair and wrapped my fingers around his hard length.

He let out a low groan and moved over to my other breast, moving the other bra cup down and locking his lips around that nipple. I sighed from the pleasure and slowly started to stroke him.

The angle wasn’t great. I couldn’t reach the base with my hand, but he thrust into my palm a little and seemed to be satisfied—for now—with what I could do.

We continued like this, playing, and kissing for a little while, exploring each other’s bodies.

And while I was grateful for the foreplay, too much of it would cause me to get into my head and start overthinking things.

The lawyer would come back, file an appeal, and begin her argument to not do this all over again.

“I … I have condoms in my purse,” I said, slightly out of breath as he successfully unhooked my bra and helped me toss it to the side of the bed.

“I have them in my nightstand too.” His gaze landed on my breasts and a rush of adrenaline and nerves sprinted through me, causing me to shiver. “You okay?”

I swallowed and nodded. “Just … yeah.”

“You can talk to me, you know.” He sat back on his heels, his erection making a pretty distracting tent in his sweats.

Clenching and unclenching my molars, I let the perfection of his body calm me.

But all it did was make me more nervous and ask questions like: what would an Adonis like this ever want with a frumpy, uptight forty-one-year-old like me?

The kids were right. I had no real hobbies.

I rarely left the house. My life was predictable, organized and boring.

His brows lifted, waiting for me to reply.

“I … I overthink things,” I finally managed. “And unless we do this, I’m going to get too deep in my head and ruin it.”

“You want to rush it?” His head cocked to the side in a cute, almost puppy dog kind of way. This guy was definitely a gorgeous golden retriever with the silky, soft head of hair to boot.

“N-no. I … I’m just nervous.” Pressing my hand to my forehead, I grumbled in frustration. “I’m not good at talking about this stuff.”

“About sex?”

“About feelings.” I opened one eye. “At least not my own. I can talk about my kids’ emotions, but when it comes to my own, I’m woefully stunted.

Blame a fucked-up upbringing and traumatic marriage.

But its easier for everything—everyone—if I just keep my feelings to myself.

” I’m sure my expression was grim, and I was successfully and expediently destroying the sexy mood.

“Do you want to talk about that?” The confusion, but also openness in his eyes, made me want to both spill my guts, but also shut down completely. How was that possible?

“No.” I shook my head. “I want to have sex. We need to have sex.” I lunged up—thanking Pilates for my strong core—and reached for the waistband of his sweats. “Let’s have sex.”

“Gabrielle.” His hands came over mine and stopped me. “Hang on. Do you actually want to do this?”

I glanced up at him. “Yes.”

“It doesn’t seem that way.”

“I’m trying to get your cock out of your pants and inside of me. How much clearer can I be?”

Shaking his head, he carefully placed my hands into my lap, then handed me a pillow so I could cover my chest. “Look, I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time.

You have been the benchmark for women for me for over a decade.

And now that you seem to want me too, I’m ecstatic.

But I don’t want you to feel pressured. Or like we have to do this.

We could also go on some dates first. Let me take you to dinner. Or join me for a cheese making course.”

But then we’d be out in public and people would see us, and everyone on the island would know.

“I can tell by the look on your face that you’d rather have a frontal lobotomy.”

I huffed a laugh and hugged the pillow closer.

“Talk to me. What’s going on in that brilliant, analytical, slightly scary brain of yours?”

“So much,” I said softly. “It never shuts off.”

He nodded gently. “That must be tough?”

I lifted a single shoulder and averted my gaze. “It’s all I’ve ever known.”

“I get that. Hockey and striving to be as good as my dad and brothers is all I’ve ever known.

I wasn’t allowed to have any hobbies or interests that could pull me away from the goal of getting into the NHL.

” The noise he made in his throat seemed one more of resentment than amusement.

“Which is why I’m doing everything now. I want to try it all.

Maybe find something I’m good at, that I enjoy, and can just do for me.

Not for anybody else. Not my dad, not my brothers, not my team or the fans. Just me.”

“I don’t have any hobbies. The kids say I’m boring and that I never leave the house.”

A small, playful smile curled his mouth. “You left tonight.”

“Which I stressed over because it’s so out of character.”

We sat in silence for a moment, breaking eye contact for a couple of heartbeats, then finding it again. With a sigh that seemed to relax all of his muscles, and somehow transferred to mine too, he gave another little crooked lift to his lips. “I think you have more hobbies than you think.”

“I really don’t. I do Pilates, I cook, I work, and I read books that Laurel wants to read, but the librarian at school says are too mature for her.

So I have to vet them first. My hobby is pre-screening fiction for my ridiculously smart, bookworm daughter so she doesn’t accidentally stumble across graphic decapitation or an orgy. ”

He snorted. “So, no Game of Thrones ?”

“The books aren’t so bad. The show? Hell no.”

He snorted again. “Cooking can be a hobby. You enjoy it, don’t you?”

“Are we really sitting here half naked arguing about what can and can’t be considered a hobby?”

“Are you out of your head?”

Shocked that I was, I reared my head back a little. “Yeah.”

“Good. I want you, Gabrielle. Badly.” He glanced down at his lap where the tent still stood tall and proud. “But if you’re not ready …”

“I’m ready,” I breathed. “I just … it’s been a while. And … the age gap … and the—”

He yanked the pillow away and covered me again.

“Stop talking. Stop thinking. I don’t care about the age gap.

I don’t care about small town gossips. I care about you.

I care about your kids. And right now, I care about finally, finally getting to find out what color underwear you have on and tearing them off you. ”

My eyes went wide and need thrummed through me as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Okay. I … I care about that too.”

“And who knows,” he said, dropping his mouth back to my nipple and swirling his tongue around it, “maybe your new hobby can be getting eaten out by me every day? How does that sound?” Holding himself up on one elbow, he started to peel my leggings off with his free hand.

I swallowed and lifted my hips for him. “Th-that sounds like a great hobby.”

The smile in his eyes turned me into a puddle. “And it’s something we can do together.”