Page 8 of Love Me (Charlotte Monarchs Hockey #1)

Luke

I want to fuck this girl so badly, I can taste her on my tongue already. But her eyes keep rolling into the back of her head, and I know she’s way too drunk for me to keep going.

Even if she says yes, I need to stop.

You don’t have sex with a woman this drunk. No matter what. Period.

I take a deep breath and try to escape to a place of Zen, hoping my dick will follow suit and calm the fuck down.

That’s when Bree reaches between our bodies and tugs at my jeans, popping the button open. She thrusts her hand into the front of my pants and takes hold of my cock. I guess I made it pretty easy for her since I’m always commando.

“Bree.” Her name catches in my throat.

I try to back up, but she doesn’t relent, sliding her hand over my dick.

I swallow hard and move my hand to her hip.

I need to regain control of the situation before we do something she regrets in the morning, but I can’t remember the last time I wanted to stop a situation like this. Probably never.

“We’re gonna have to hold off on this part.” Our faces are so close, our breath mingles. The smell of beer and vanilla wafts from her, reminding me again that we’ve both had too much to drink.

“Really?” Her question comes out as a pant.

She thinks she’s being tricky when she takes hold of my hand on her hip and slides it back between her fucking legs.

I can’t help it when my dick swells in her grasp.

Her lips twist into a sexy smile of satisfaction, and I want to toss being a good guy out the window and throw her legs over my shoulders.

“This”—I remove my hand again and hold it up—“is staying right here.” I place it back on her hip and give it a squeeze. Her chest heaves with a melodramatic sigh, pushing the tight T-shirt covering her tits toward my face. “Don’t be a drama queen,” I tease her.

“I want you inside me, Luke. I’m not just saying that because I’m drunk. I wanted you the second I saw you at Valhalla.” Bree squeezes my cock.

“Jesus,” I hiss, squeezing my eyes shut. Her grip feels amazing though I’ve pressed my pelvis against her so that she doesn’t have room to jerk me off. “I want to be with you, too, Bree. So badly. You don’t know how much it hurts—like, physically hurts—right now.”

“I bet I do,” she mumbles.

I smile and move my hand to her head, sliding my fingers through her hair. “But we’ve both had too much to drink. If we try to do this now, you’re never gonna be able to come and it’ll give me a complex even though I know it’s because of the alcohol, not my magic stick.”

“Did you really just call your penis a magic stick?” she asks through a laugh.

I put my finger on her lips. “You are smart and fun and deliriously gorgeous. But I’m not the guy that fucks drunk girls. The last thing I want is for you to wake up with regrets.”

She could write a contract in lipstick on my bathroom mirror right now, and I still wouldn’t fuck her.

Not just because I’m not that kind of guy, but I don’t know this girl.

One of the earliest lessons I learned in this career is I always have to be thinking about my reputation.

The last thing I need is a lawsuit. There are a ton of slimy dudes out there, and there are also some girls who just want to get something from a professional athlete.

I honestly don’t get that vibe from Bree. Still, I have to be smart—for both of us.

She leans in and presses a hand against my chest, the one that doesn’t have a warm firm grip on my dick. “I’m not that drunk,” she sings softly. Her voice is a raspy whisper and sexy as fuck.

“That’s what every drunk person says before they make a bad decision.”

“If you think my hand feels good, just imagine what my mouth feels like.”

Her face hovers over mine, so close that our lips touch when she speaks. She licks my bottom lip before taking it in her mouth. When she tries to move her hand, I press against her harder, restricting her.

“I don’t think sucking your cock would be a bad decision. Do you?” she asks.

Fucking hell! I want to ball up my self-control and chuck that shit off the balcony. Bree takes her hand off my dick and grabs my hip to keep me from falling off the couch.

“You’re killing me, woman,” I say, readjusting myself and snuggling into her. Bree laughs and relaxes in my arms. “We can get it on in the morning when you’ll remember.” I trace the curve of her body from the side of her rib cage and over her hip.

“Are you saying it’ll be memorable?” Her voice is soft, drifting into a sexy, sleepy whisper.

“Fireworks and dancing pandas, baby,” I tease, though I have no clue where the dancing pandas came from. I must’ve had more to drink than I realize. “Let’s move this to my bed.”

Instead of answering, she burrows into my chest. I inhale the soothing botanical scent of her hair and feel like I’m at a high-end spa. Within minutes, Bree’s breathing slows to an even, gentle rhythm. She’s passed out.

Though I love the feel of her warm body flush against me, we can’t sleep on Big Red all night. We’d be on the floor with one roll. I slide off the couch carefully, lift her up, and carry her to my bed.

I’m too tired to think about changing her into makeshift pajamas from my wardrobe. Once I shimmy her jeans to the floor, I feel weird.

Only a creep would leave her pant-less. What if she wakes up wondering what she’s doing here and why her clothes are off?

Crossing the room, I open the bottom drawer of my dresser to grab a pair of green plaid boxers I’ve never worn.

Taking great care not to wake her, I slide them up her legs and let them rest loosely on her hips.

The sexy sight of Bree’s sleek, tan legs and lacy, pink panties makes my dick swell.

I can honestly say that this is the first time I’ve ever gotten excited about putting clothes on a woman.

I hightail it to the bathroom to grab a quick cold shower and relieve my suffering cock. After brushing my teeth, I fumble through the top drawer and set out an extra toothbrush. It’s brand-new in the package. Might as well keep it that way in case Bree’s a germaphobe or something.

Why do I care if she’s a germaphobe? It’s only one night.

I’ve never thought of putting a toothbrush out or caring about any other girls’ hygiene habits.

Then again, it’s been a while since I’ve had anyone over.

Been in a bit of a funk since my surgery as if the loss of my career affected not only my head but also my libido.

But Bree had my dick thicker than Thor’s hammer since the second I saw her.

I crawl into bed and curl against Bree’s side, spooning into her curves. The numbers on the clock glow behind her head, informing me that it’s 10:07 p.m. Good thing the boys have a game tomorrow or we’d probably still be tipping back shots of vodka. Those Russians toast to everything.

Her hair falls across my pillow in soft waves.

It’s a welcome change from the crunch or grease of women’s hair products.

Before I close my eyes, I study Bree’s face, scanning every inch of her smooth, bare skin before settling my gaze on her pink lips, which are slightly parted.

For a slight second, I imagine her mouth around my dick, as she’d suggested earlier.

I shake my head and smooth a hand through my hair.

Settling in next to Bree fills me with an odd sense of peace. It’s been too long since I’ve curled up with a woman in my own bed. I don’t invite many girls to my condo. It’s my sanctuary, the only place I can completely relax and forget the problems of life.

I listen to every breath she takes, pretending the stress in my own life washes away every time she exhales. When I finally drift off, it’s with a sense of calm I haven’t felt in years.