Page 36 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

I fumbled with the keys in the lock, Beckett’s body pressed against my back. He dropped kisses to the side of my neck, his big hands resting on my hips.

“Pretty sure I’d move faster if you stopped doing that,” I whispered, breath hitching when his lips brushed the sensitive spot just below my ear.

“Pretty sure I might be incapable of keeping my hands off you,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Unless you tell me to.”

But that was the last thing I wanted.

The door finally gave way, and we stumbled inside, the quiet hush of the house a sharp contrast to the chaos we’d just left behind.

The only light came from the streetlamps filtering through the front windows, throwing long shadows across the floor.

I barely got the door shut before he had me pinned gently against it, one hand braced beside my head, the other skimming up my thigh.

“This dress.” His hand gripped the fabric and slid it up. “ All night, I’ve wanted to know what it would look like on the floor.”

My head hit the door behind me as his hand slid up over my hip, fingers trailing the line of my panties. I gripped his shirt, holding him to me, trying to remember a time I’d ever felt this desperate for anyone.

With my neck exposed, his head dropped, tongue licking and kissing across my skin. A wash of heat spread through me, trailing from everywhere he touched directly to my core.

The hand not teasing along the edge of my underwear slid behind my head, guiding me into the kind of kiss that stole the air from my lungs. Last night’s kiss had been an awakening—soft, sweet, a promise. The midnight kiss had sparked a fire.

But this?

This was an inferno. A fire I couldn’t put out even if I wanted to, and I did not want to.

He caught my bottom lip between his teeth, just enough pressure to make me shiver, then soothed the sting with his tongue. I opened for him without hesitation, and when our mouths met fully, it was slow and deep—like tasting something I’d been craving for far too long.

Our tongues tangled, not in a rush but in a rhythm, like we’d already memorized each other.

My hands slid around his waist, pulling him closer until the hard line of his body pressed against mine.

He groaned into my mouth, the sound guttural and raw, then dropped his forehead to my shoulder as his hips rolled into me with aching precision.

“Upstairs,” I whispered, breathless, grabbing his hand and sliding out from under him.

His boots thudded heavy behind me on the steps, and I felt him watching me—watching the sway of my hips, the way my dress clung to my legs as I climbed up the dark stairs to my bedroom.

“Still think I should’ve carried you,” he said behind me, his voice low and full of that familiar challenge.

I glanced over my shoulder, the heat in his eyes evident even in the dim light. “You’re seven weeks post-op with a hip held together by sutures and stubbornness.”

He grinned. “So, you’re saying there’s a chance.”

“I’m saying I’d have to write up my own incident report, and that’s not how I want to spend tonight.”

By the time we reached the top, his hands were back on me—sure, steady, hungry. And I was already his for the taking.

We tumbled our way into my bedroom, clothes leaving a trail from the doorway to my bed until I was laid out under him in just my boots, bra, and panties.

I held one foot up, and he gripped it by the heel, gently tugging until it slid free.

It fell to the floor with a thud, followed by the second one.

“Fuck, you’re stunning,” Beckett said, reaching behind his head to pull off the henley he wore in one swift movement.

I sat up on my elbows, hips almost to the edge of the bed as he stood between my legs, His arms flexed as his hands slowly undid the belt at his waist. After weeks of working out together, I was fully aware of the muscles lining every inch of Beckett’s body.

But nothing prepared me for the way the moonlight streaming through my windows hit just right, emphasizing every cut, every line.

“Not so bad yourself.” My voice was rougher than usual, not even kind of hiding how badly I wanted him.

He smirked, his head shaking lightly as his hands slid up my calves and to my thighs, gently pushing them apart to make room for his hips.

My eyes dropped to his open belt, his jeans sagging just enough to show the waistband of boxer briefs. There was still a faint bruise on his hip, and I knew the surgery scars sat just below. “How’s your hip? Maybe we should stop.”

Beckett shook his head, then lightly slapped the inside of my upper thigh. “You’re not in charge here, Emmy. I’m fine unless I say I’m not.”

My breath came out in a little gasp, and I tried to squeeze my thighs together, but he didn’t let me.

His hands slid across my thighs, then settled on my hips. Between one breath and the next, he lifted me and moved me further back on the bed, making room for himself.

The feel of his shoulders pushing my hips apart, my hips lifting under his hands, was enough to make my head drop back on the mattress. His nose ran over my seam, then his tongue laved over my hip bone, leaving a trail of kisses along my waistband.

“Beckett,” I moaned, my hands sliding through his dark hair, searching for purchase. “Please.”

“Please, what?” His head came up enough for me to see the heat in his blue eyes, shining bright in the dim room. “Tell me what you want, Peach.”

“God, anything.” I sounded desperate, but I didn’t have it in me to be embarrassed when he chuckled at my answer. “All of it.”

He rose to his knees, then climbed over my body, kisses trailing over my stomach and between my breasts. By the time he made it up my neck and to my mouth, I was a puddle of want. Of need.

My back arched into the kiss, and he reached behind me, unhooking my bra. I moved my shoulders to slide it free, then flung it across the room, needing to be free of anything keeping his skin off mine.

The chill air in the house had my nipples pebbling instantly, but before goosebumps could erupt over my skin, Beckett’s warm mouth covered one. He sucked gently, his warm hand kneading the other until I gripped his hair again, holding him to me.

My breaths came in short little gasps, warmth pooling in my belly with each passing second until I was on the verge of shaking, I needed him so bad.

“Touch me,” I said, hardly recognizing my own voice.

He released my nipple with a little pop, his head coming up to smile at me.

I couldn’t look away from him, hands trailing over the muscled ridges of his broad shoulders, the planes of his back.

A hand dropped down between my legs, moving under the hem of my panties until his fingers slid down my center.

I inhaled sharply, my chest rising off the mattress.

“Like this?” He glided his fingers through me, then circling over my apex. Over and over, he did it, the touch just barely enough to satisfy the bone-deep craving I felt. “Is that what you want?”

“More,” I groaned, my fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders.

His lips came down over mine again, and a finger slid inside me.

I gasped into his mouth, loving the way it curved upward just right, wiggling against where it felt best. He withdrew his finger, sliding back up over my clit, then down again.

Over and over, until I was an absolute mess, needing way more than this.

I must have said that, because suddenly he added another finger. The stretch was more, in the best way, and I squeezed my eyes shut as the wave of ecstasy built inside me.

“Do not stop,” I said between panted breaths, my body buzzing with electricity.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Beckett curled his fingers just right until everything inside of me squeezed. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you Peach? Show me what I’ve been picturing for weeks. Let me hear you so every time I jack off thinking of you, I know exactly how you sound.”

The moan that came out of me was something I’d never heard before. When his thumb pressed down on my clit, I exploded. My body shook with the tremors, coming so hard I squeezed my eyes shut.

Beckett’s mouth crashed back down on mine, swallowing the sound, and I looped my hands around his back, holding him to me as I rode the wave of ecstasy.

I could feel his heart thundering under my palm, matching my own. When my body finally sagged into the mattress, he rested his forehead on mine, arms flexed on either side of my head. “Well, that was fun.”

A low laugh rumbled out of my chest, and I dropped my arms to the side of the mattress. “You’re not even undressed yet.”

He rubbed his jeans-clad hips across my thigh to prove my point, and I felt how hard he was beneath the fabric. “Good thing I’m nowhere near done with you.”

I pushed on his shoulder until he fell to my side. The moonlight hit him even more so as he splayed out on his back, and I climbed up on my knees to take in the view.

“My eyes are up here.” He put his hands behind his head, a cocky smirk on his face as he watched me watch him. The pose made every single muscle in his tattooed arms flex, and he knew it. I shook my head but couldn’t stop my smile even if I tried.

“Who said it’s your eyes I’m interested in?” My hands slid under the waistband of my panties, and I slid them off my hips, throwing them onto the pile across the room.

His nostrils flared, staring at where I was now completely bare to him. It took several seconds for his eyes to meet mine again, and I couldn’t help but smirk just the way he had before.

“My eyes are up here.”

“And what pretty eyes they are.” His hand reached out and settled on my ass. Fingers dug in as he pulled me down over his chest, bringing my mouth up to his in another searing kiss.

His hand followed mine down to his waistband, freeing him of his jeans and boxers until he laid bare next to me. My heart raced as I stared down at his cock, watching his hand circle the thick shaft then slide up to the head, squeezing gently.