Page 28 of Meet Your Match (Kings of the Ice)

I whimpered as his hand slid under the hem of my dress with those words, and he teased the line of my lace panties, running one fingertip along the edges that hugged my inner thighs. I spread wider, wanting him to cross that fabric boundary.

“You are so deep-seated in my mind, in my being . I will never be rid of you. ”

That made my heart stop, my anxiety trying to snake its way in. I pressed my hand to his chest, making him look at me, ashamed of the weakness in my voice even before I spoke.

“Even once you’ve had me?”

His eyes danced under those bent brows of his — one scarred, one perfect — and he dropped his forehead to mine on a long sigh.

“Especially then,” he breathed against my lips.

For a moment, I thought he was second-guessing, thought he might pull away and put my feet back on the ground, help me right my dress, and tell me we shouldn’t.

So, before he could, I grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him into me again.

“Then I guess we’re both fucked,” I said, and I licked his lip until he opened his mouth and let me in.

He kissed me on another deep inhale, smothering the curse and any resolve I had left to fight the chemistry between us. Even if it was just once, even if this was all we had — I wanted it.

It was all-consuming, that kiss — his hands completely destroying my blowout, his mouth completely destroying my lipstick.

Him, completely destroying me .

He wrapped me up in his arms, holding me to him as my back left the mirror.

He held all of my weight then, and he kissed me every step of the way until dropping me carefully onto a weight bench.

I didn’t have a chance in hell of catching my breath when he released the kiss, and as soon as he did, he yanked my hips until my ass was hanging over the edge of the bench, my body in a tilted, awkward angle.

My hands flew up to grip the first thing they could find — a cold barbell — and then Vince smacked the outside of my thigh .

“Lift,” he commanded.

I pressed weight into my heels on the floor, just enough for my ass to rise off the bench. Vince shoved my dress up to my rib cage, wetting his lips at the sight of my thong before he hooked his thumbs in the band of it.

“Let me see you,” he said, slowly peeling the fabric down over my thighs. As soon as it was past my ass, I sat down again, and I had no choice but to lift my legs and let him peel it the rest of the way off.

When my panties were tossed somewhere behind him, I tried to put my legs back down, but he clamped his hands over them and held them up — ankles wrapped together in one of his hands, legs fused together, my bare pussy framed by the swells of my ass propped on the edge of the bench.

“Fuck me , this is a beautiful sight.” He quirked his scarred brow at my sneakers next, laughing a little as he popped one off and then the other.

“Don’t judge,” I breathed.

“Pet, the only thing I’m judging right now is how fucking soaked you are,” he said, kissing the inside of my ankle once he had my socks discarded. “Stubborn girl. How long have you been this wet for me?”

I ripped out of his hold, pressing my toes into his chest. “Don’t call me pet.”

“You like it.”

I tilted my chin in defiance, but couldn’t fucking deny it — so I kept my mouth shut.

Vince smirked in victory, and then he grabbed one of my ankles in each hand and slowly, painfully slowly, opened me.

His eyes drank me in as he spread my legs, and he stared at where I knew I was glistening for him before he dropped to his knees in front of me.

He placed one of my feet on the bench, the other on the floor, and then he hooked my hips and tugged me even closer, my hands holding the bar now working overtime to keep from falling on top of him.

He seemed to notice because he nodded at that bar with a wicked grin. “Hold tight,” he said, and then he descended.

It was a slow, teasing torture — his lips kissing up my thigh that was propped on the bench. He flicked his tongue over my clit just once before he was kissing down the other thigh, and I squirmed, gripping the bar so hard I wondered if I’d callous.

Vince Tanev was on his fucking knees for me.

There was no thought more erotic than that one.

Just when I thought I’d combust from him kissing and licking and nipping at all the skin around where I really wanted him, he wrapped his arms up and under my thighs, holding the weight of me before burying his face.

His tongue covered me, hot and wet and with the perfect pressure to make me tremble beneath the touch.

“Oh, fuck ,” I cried, trying to sit my ass back on the bench so I could spread wider for him.

But he kept me up, kept me shaking and holding on for dear life as he worked.

My heart was pounding, the reality of the moment stealing my breath.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was a bad idea, that I wasn’t being professional, that this would all blow up in my face.

I couldn’t find it in me to stop. I never wanted him to stop.

“Jesus, Maven,” he breathed against me, swirling his tongue over my clit before sucking it between his teeth. I bucked my hips, and he did it again, and again, finding the rhythm to drive me toward an orgasm. “So fucking sweet. So fucking you .”

“God.” In a feat of strength, I held onto the bar with one hand, and the other jutted out for his hair, guiding him where I wanted him.

And then all contact was lost.

My ass dropped to the bench, and Vince grabbed my hand, guiding it back to the bar.

“I said hold tight ,” he reminded me, and then he kissed me hard, his mouth wet with my pleasure before he crawled down my body again. And he moved even slower this time, taking the opportunity to forcefully tug at the top of my dress until my modest breasts spilled over the top of it.

He licked his lips, my taste there, like he was savoring every sip of me as he palmed my swells and rolled his thumbs over my nipples.

“I knew you had pretty tits even before I felt you that night in the hot tub,” he said, shaking his head in awe as he took in the sight of me.

And what a sight it had to be — my dress shoved up over my hips, pussy wet and spread open, breasts spilling out, hair mussed, lipstick smudged.

“But fuck , my imagination was so far off. These,” he said, squeezing me before he leaned down to circle one of my nipples with his tongue. “Are perfect .”

“Vince,” I breathed.

“Mm? Is there something you need, pet ?”

I glared at him, but before I could press my toes into his chest and kick him away, he snatched my ankle, spreading me wide.

“You need only say it,” he teased, a challenge in his eyes as he held me like that .

I was tempted to kick out of his grasp, but instead, I leaned up a bit, enough to stare down at him when I said, “Eat. Me.”

He grinned. “With pleasure.”

He didn’t delay this time. He enveloped me — wrapping my thighs in his arms again, balancing me in the air as my grip tightened on the bar.

His mouth was ravenous, his tongue that of an expert, sliding up and down and in me.

He used the tip of it to flick my clit in a quick, merciless motion, holding me to him when I tried to back out.

“ Ohhhh fuuucckkk ,” I cried, my legs trembling so hard it hurt. It was like having a full body spasm, but I pushed and stretched and opened, reaching, holding tight.

And then I let go.

It struck me only then that we were in a public place, when my cries rang out in that gym and echoed off the walls. I hoped the people who were still in the building weren’t on the third floor, and I really hoped there weren’t cameras in this gym.

Those thoughts lingered only a second, though, because the orgasm was so powerful, it eradicated everything else from my brain. I was lost in that moment, that climax, the waves after waves of pleasure that rolled through me and made my toes curl — all courtesy of Tampa’s hotshot rookie.

When I was spent, I let out a short burst of a breath, collapsing onto the bench. My hands were red and raw when I released them from the bar, my legs still quivering.

Vince smiled against my pussy, kissing it lightly before crawling up to kiss my mouth.

“Cameras,” I breathed.

“I already took care of it.”

I blinked. “How? ”

He nodded toward the top right-hand corner of the room. To my horror, there was a camera, but his t-shirt was thrown over it, blocking the lens.

“I didn’t want to get reamed by coach for working out the night before a game,” he explained.

“Audio?”

“None,” he promised. He captured my mouth again with a long, slow kiss. “No one gets my girl like this. No one but me.”

Those words unraveled me, sending any paranoia I had skittering away.

I tried not to overanalyze, not to latch onto the way his lips curved when he said my girl .

I knew as well as he did that this was just one night.

It was giving in to the fire between us that refused not to burn.

It was fighting and fucking because that’s what we were meant to do, from the moment we met.

All thoughts were wiped clean when he grabbed my wrists and pulled me to stand, his eyes skating over every inch of my skin.

“You should see yourself right now,” he said, biting his lip.

And then, like a lightbulb went off, a little smile curled on his lips, his eyes wide.

He tugged me away from the bench, stealing another kiss, and then he grabbed my hips and spun me around.

Until I was looking at myself, at us , in the mirror.