Page 40 of Hutch (Minnesota Raptors #2)

Daisy

I laugh, unable to help myself. Even when he’s serious, he makes me laugh. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing or not, but for tonight, I don’t care. I just want to feel happy and if nothing else, Hutch always makes me feel safe and happy.

My laughter dries up when he rolls, pinning me beneath him.

His gray eyes are glowing with warmth, and they have that sleepy look to them that hums with desire.

No one’s ever looked at me like that, not even Joseph.

This is about more than sex with Hutch and with Joe, it was always about sex.

The difference is stark and telling now that I know the difference.

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?”

He’s giving me another chance to say no.

“It’s not sex I’m afraid of.”

His nose rubs along mine. “I know.”

And that’s why he makes me feel so safe. He understands me in ways I don’t understand myself. He understands my fears, why I have so many layers of protection built around myself.

“I’m sure.” I reach up and pull his head to mine. “I’m sure.”

He smiles lazily and my heart stutters ever so slightly. This man is going to be either my salvation or the death of me. Not literally the death of me, but he could so easily destroy me. Yet, I don’t think he will.

When his lips finally descend upon mine, it’s a relief, like they’ve been parched for days, and his is the water they’ve been craving.

His lips are not soft, but they are gentle.

He’s always so very gentle with me, like he thinks I’ll break.

Maybe I would have when I first met him, but he’s shown me I can trust him, and I’m not so easily broken when I’m around him.

He pulls back and looks at me, his gaze searching.

Smiling, I trace his lips with my fingers. “Thank you.”

“For what, baby?”

“For always being so gentle with me, even when I did everything in my power to push you way.”

“Takes more than a little grumpiness to push me away. I’m more stubborn than you are.”

God’s truth that.

“Move.” I push him and he rolls over instantly, freeing me from beneath him. There’s no disappointment on his face and I know he must be if he thinks I’m calling this quits.

He leans over and kisses me softly. “Netflix marathon?”

“No. You stink.”

“Huh?” He rears back and instantly sniffs his pits. “I do not.”

“You do,” I disagree and get up, stripping my shirt off as I go toward the bathroom. “I think you need a shower.”

I hear him scramble off the bed, cursing as he trips.

Laughing softly, I turn on the shower and set the water to hot.

I love hot water. It can melt away a multitude of worries.

Shimmying out of my pants, I wait for him to come in, clad only in my black lace underwear set, my dark red hair falling around my shoulders.

His eyes widen when he sees me and then goes dark with want and desire. He swallows and steps inside.

“Close the door,” I whisper. “Don’t let the heat out.”

He kicks it shut with his foot.

“I get to do anything I want?” I ask.

He nods.

“You’ll do anything I want?”

Again, just a nod.

“Then strip, Jonathan.”

He pauses. I’ve never called him by his name before and I can tell he likes it by the way his nostrils flare.

“As you wish,” he says at last and slowly pulls his shirt over his head.

The man is ripped with a six pack. I knew he would be because he plays hockey and works out daily, but knowing and seeing it are two entirely different things.

I drool ever so slightly when he drops his pants, kicking them aside. He’s wearing boxers. Somehow, I thought he’d be wearing skin-tight briefs. The boxers do nothing to hide how happy he is right now, however.

When the underwear falls to the floor and his cock springs out at full attention, my mouth goes a little dry. Dear Lord, but he’s big. So much bigger than Joe. My inner Goddess screams yes, yes, yes, while my brain screams to hit pause on this and think about it. He might actually break me.

“Now what, Red?” he asks softly when I don’t move for a full minute.

Shaking my head to clear it, I walk over and lay my hands flat against his chest, marveling at how hard his entire body is. There is no boyishness left to it. He’s all muscles.

“I just want to touch you.”

He spreads his arms out. “I’m all yours, baby. Touch away.”

I run my hands over his chest, down his abs, and back up.

There’s not an inch of give to him. His skin is golden like he ran around all summer without a shirt on.

His shoulders are wide, the muscles rippling as my fingers feather over them and down his arms. I twine my fingers with his and watch as his eyes go even darker, the color of a stormy sky. They’re beautiful.

Leaning in, I flick my tongue over his nipple, and he sucks in a breath. I feel his cock jump against my hip and I smile at his reaction. Scraping my teeth over the pebbled nipple, I’m rewarded with a moan.

“Showers gonna get cold,” I murmur and step away from him.

He growls and reaches for me, but I move out of his way.

“My birthday, remember? Right now, I want us to take a shower.”

His eyes soften a fraction. “As you wish.”

“First, you need to help me take these off.” I motion to my bra and undies and his stormy eyes turn so dark they look black.

He follows me to the shower, and reaches behind me to unsnap my bra. His thumbs hook the straps and ever so slowly he pulls the bra down, my breasts coming into his direct line of sight. He doesn’t touch though. He just looks and I feel my nipples harden.

I’m startled when he falls to his knees in front of me.

I glance down, not understanding. He smiles before leaning in and kissing my stomach, his tongue running lazy swirls over my overheated skin and it’s my turn to moan.

His hands cup my ass and squeeze. They’re so big, they all but swallow me.

His mouth moves off to my hip and when his teeth catch the edge of my underwear and pull them lazily down, a guttural sound escapes me.

No one’s ever done that and let me tell you, it’s a turn on unlike anything else.

His eyes never leave mine during the whole process.

He lifts first one foot and then the other to pull my lacy underwear off.

He tosses them to the side and stands, awaiting whatever I want him to do.

I pull back the shower curtain and step under the spray. The hot water hits my back, and I stand there a moment to let my body get used to it and to regain a bit of composure. I’m shaking, not from fear, but anticipation.

He gets in and pulls the curtain closed. Wrapping his body around mine, he kisses all along my neck. “What do you wish of me now?” he whispers.

Hands shaking, I hand him my shower gel. He takes it and opens it easily. He dumps some in his hands before setting it back on the little ledge with my shampoo. Rubbing his hands together, he motions for me to turn so my back is to him.

I do as he gestured, and his hands are on my skin instantly, massaging the soap into it. It feels so nice and my back arches into the caress. He soaps up my back and runs his hands over my ass and then down the backs of my thighs.

Sweet baby Jesus, but his hands are magic. Every sweep of his fingers sends shards of desire through me.

“Turn around, Daisy.”

I take a deep breath and turn. He’s on his knees, looking up at me and I gasp. The naked need on his face is mesmerizing.

“Soap.” He holds out his hands and I fumble with the lid, trying to pour some into his open palm. He only smiles and takes it from me. When he’s poured more out, he sets it on the floor of the tub and turns back to me.

He licks the water running down my stomach.

I’m short enough that he can follow the trail all the way to my breasts.

This time, he doesn’t just look. He licks across them, teasing the nipples and I brace my hand against the shower wall to hold myself steady at his gentle assault.

While his lips tease my nipples, his hands are busy soaping up the rest of my body and when he pulls his lips away from me, his hands replace them, squeezing my nipples as he washes my breasts.

A low moan escapes and he chuckles. He knows what he’s doing to me, but then I did ask him to wash me didn’t I?

Standing up, he tips my head back and lets the hot water soak my hair while he kisses me, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, caressing my tongue with his.

He deepens the kiss and pulls me to him, my skin flush against his as everything in me finally gives way and surrenders the last vestiges of my protection layer.

When he comes up for air, we’re both breathing hard.

I reach for him, but he shakes his head and turns so his back is to the spray and then proceeds to wash my hair, his hands gentle as he massages my scalp.

He only allows me under the spray when it comes time to rinse soap from my hair, and he keeps me there until the water runs clear.

I go to cut off the water and he stops me.

“We’re not done.”

Frowning, I start to ask what he means when he gets back down on his knees and picks up the discarded shower gel. He soaps his hands back up and I hiss when he nudges my thighs apart. His fingers part my folds and rubs the soap all over me.

“Sprayer.”

It takes me a minute to register what he asked and then with shaking hands, I detach it, handing it over.

He adjusts it and then turns it on my overly sensitive skin. The sprayer is gentle, using the softest setting the head has, but its more than enough to make me whimper, my body needing him to touch me, to put an end to this and give it relief.

Again, he chuckles and lets the sprayer drop. I jump as the hot water hits my backside.

“Hold onto something, baby.” He waits until I have a hold of the shower rod, one hand still braced against the wall, and then he lifts one leg, throwing it over his shoulder. “Trust me?”

“Yes.”

He smiles. “Good girl.”