Page 20

NINETEEN

Joey

I don’t feel empty.

In fact, I feel so full that I’m overflowing.

I need to say something profound, something that can match what his words have brought to me, but I’ve got nothing.

This isn’t a motivational speech in a locker room, hyping the guys up so they kick some ass on the ice.

This is…my life.

This is dangerous and probably stupid and will likely leave me more shattered than I’ve ever been before.

Because I want it so much that I can taste it, feel it, love it.

And that’s a drug I can’t resist.

So, instead of calling this, instead of snagging my bag and making my retreat, I answer his quiet admission of not being able to stay away with, “Then don’t.”

The air goes taut.

His blue eyes darken with desire.

Then he moves.

One hand diving into my hair, tilting my head back again, the other going to my waist. One tug has my body flush against his and I gasp because the feel of him—hard and male and so damned strong—makes my knees wobble.

“Too much?” he murmurs, head dropping, lips lightly brushing my earlobe as he speaks.

“No,” I say softly. “It’s good.” A beat. “And not nearly enough.”

His mouth whispers along my jaw, drifting close to my lips. “What about this?” His tongue darts out. “Is it too much?” he asks, the hot puffs of his words glazing my skin.

“No, sweetheart.” My head drops back when he moves to my neck, mouth lightly pressing to my skin, the bristles of his beard the most erotic sort of tease. Because of that, it takes me a moment to realize he’s gone still. “Damon?” I ask, starting to lift my head again.

His fingers tighten in my hair and his lips start moving again. “Like that, baby.”

“Like wh-what?” I manage as goose bumps rise on my flesh, as my knees wobble, as desire swirls rapidly through my insides.

“You calling me sweetheart.”

My hands clench on his shoulders, surprise sliding through me.

Badass, grumpy, taciturn Damon Connors who doesn’t need anyone else likes being called sweetheart?

The rush of emotions inside me is so strong that I wonder how I’ll stand it.

But I don’t have time to sit in those feelings—or the panic that hurtles in behind them.

Because he kisses me.

And I’ve never had a kiss like this—lazy and unhurried and yet steadily driving me higher and higher, closer to the edge of insanity.

Or maybe toward needing to have him naked and on top of me and pounding hard and deep and?—

“Too much?” he rasps as he breaks away and reaches for the buttons on my shirt, undoing one.

“Still not enough.”

His mouth quirks.

Then he undoes another button before dropping his head and flicking out his tongue, tasting me. I shiver, my hands sliding into his hair, holding him against me. But he’s not trying to get away. He’s staying close, slowly undoing the remaining buttons on my shirt, parting the material, tugging it free from my pants.

He pushes it off my shoulders, drags it down my arms, lets it drop to the floor.

“Fuck, Red.” It’s another rasp, one that has heat blooming in my stomach.

Because the way he’s looking at me, the desire in his eyes, the reverent way he traces his fingers over my collar bones, down between my breasts, along my belly, gripping my hips…it’s intoxicating. “Come here, baby,” he orders.

“I’m already here,” I whisper.

He tugs me closer, until our fronts are pressed flush together. “ Here ,” he says again.

“I—”

A bend and then I’m suddenly in his arms.

He turns and settles me on the mattress. “Christ, you look good there.”

Heat rolls like a wave through me and my legs press together, trying to ease the ache between them. Something he notices if his wicked grin is any indication. He drops a big palm to my thigh, spreading them wide. “Not yet, Red,” he murmurs, leaning over me, kneeling between my legs.

I’ve imagined him coming over the top of me a hundred times, a thousand, more over the last couple of years.

But this is even better than all of those fantasies.

He’s even better as he snakes a hand beneath me and unclasps my bra, as he kisses me deeply while palming my breasts. Then he’s licking his way along my jaw, down my throat… lower .

“Oh, God!” I cry as he sucks one of my nipples deep, rolling the other between thumb and forefinger.

“Okay?” he murmurs against me.

“Don’t stop!” I arch up into him.

“Better than okay,” he teases, but thankfully, he stops talking and goes back to my nipple, drawing on it, sending pleasure cascading through me, wave after glorious wave. He kisses his way to my other breast, lavishing it with attention.

And it’s like he said, slow and steady and unhurried.

Kissing his way along my belly, flicking open the button on my slacks.

My zipper goes down…then my pants, bunching around my ankles. I kick them to the side but I barely finish before his mouth is working again, this time pressing a line of kisses along the waistband of my underwear. Then drawing the fabric down. One inch and then another and then another and then?—

“ Damon!”

He grins wickedly but then repeats what sent a bolt of desire through me—dragging the flat of his tongue along my labia, lapping up the slickness of my need, holding my eyes as he repeats the action.

No hurry.

No rush.

And as each second passes, my pleasure grows. As though he’s wringing out every bit of bliss from my body as he can. As though he’s committing every moment to memory.

And I guess I am too.

The rough glide of his fingertips sliding over my flesh, the soft press of his lips, the light pressure of his teeth.

And all of it is good.

Is great.

Is fucking incredible.

And then it gets even more incredible.

Because then my orgasm is rolling through me.

Not in a rush or in a tsunami of sensation threatening to drag me under.

But almost gentle, as though I’m dipping my toes into the surf and it’s slowly washing up and over me.

And when I come down, it’s to see him kneeling between my legs, smirking like he’s just flown to the moon and back.

Or maybe I have.

Because that orgasm…

Holy hell.

“If I didn’t feel so good right now,” I say lazily, “I’d kick your ass for that smile.”

His grin widens.

Then he asks,

“Want me to make you smile again?”