Page 121 of Penalty Shot

“He let me go with a warning because he’s a Mavericks fan. Fuck, I almost asked for the ticket if he would just hurry up.”

“You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

“You’re here, too, and that makes me so happy, Elise. That’s the thing, as long as I can get you in some way, the distance won’t matter. We’ll figure it out. I should never have put that three-day deadline on the table at all.”

“You mean two days now, I guess.” The words are out before I can stop them. Yet isn’t it better to face the timeline head on? I don’t want to be in denial; I want to make the most of the time we have.

“I’m required to be at training camp in Vancouver. You, however, are welcome to stay in this home for as long as it takes to make your decision or to get into a rhythm that’s right for us. Maybe I’ll keep it and just rent in Vancouver. That way, I don’t have to move anything, and I’ll always have a home with you.”

I guffaw at such an outlandish proposition.

“Randall Haughland, are you serious? You cannot keep a house just so we have a place to hang out when you’re visiting me in Columbus. I’m not staying in your house while you’re not in it.”

“Why not? I don’t want to think of you anywhere else. I like knowing you’re sleeping in our bedroom and watching television on this couch. I love imagining you in your office where you create wonderful plays and corrupt future generations through revolutionary theater.”

I laugh because he’s too much. Why did I doubt him yesterday? Why did I lash out and suspect, even for a minute, that he didn’t value my work?

“The timeline of when I have to report to Vancouver doesn’t apply to you, OK? And we’ll figure out how to see each other, I promise.”

Timeline. Two days.

The day of Randall’s departure looms like a guillotine posed to drop.

Part of me already misses him, squinting up in awareness of its finality. No matter how hard we try, there will be a break. Physical and material and real. There’s no changing that fact, no matter how many air miles we rack up.

But it’s a break I’m determined to survive. For him. For us.

“And I’ll come out to see you, too. I’ve been called in for local projects and there’s the class next semester that I need to submit to the department head. I’m sure I can visit in a few weeks.”

“We can do this, baby. And maybe I’ll suck so bad they’ll send me back.”

I play-punch Randall, my knuckles no match for the hard planes of his chest.

“Don’t you dare joke about that. Your career is important to you, so it’s important to both of us. You’ll be amazing.”

“God, I’m going to miss you,” he groans.

“Not tonight. We have tonight.”

He carries me to the bedroom like a bride. We take our time removing our clothes and savoring each other’s naked bodies.

I kiss him everywhere. I love the taste of his ear lobe and the feel of the V of his hipbones against my tongue. I make him turn around so my fingers can memorize the contours of his back, the valley between mountainous shoulder blades, the twin muscles of the lower back so deeply pronounced in the physique of a hockey player. I rub his sore neck and he sighs. When I rub my wet pussy against the back I’m massaging, he growls and flips us around.

Wordlessly, he lays me down and touches me like he’s never seen a woman’s body before. Nibbling my collarbone and kissing my jaw. Rubbing my hair between two fingers and then taking a fist full in a slight tug. He runs his tongue along the skin on my side and lightly bites the inside of my arm, making me squeal in surprise. He spends time with my breasts, kissing them softly, fondling their peaks, sucking them so ravenously the whole breast fits in his mouth.

We make love tenderly, bodies undulating like unhurried waves on a calm day. He takes me from the side.

His sculped chest covers my back, his hands locking me close. We grind as he reaches around to tease my clit. And just as I’m about to come, he switches our legs so we’re scissored. The angle shifts, the curve of his shaft nudging new erotic depths. My body goes off like fireworks.

He remains rock hard. I push him on his back so I can ride him. He grips my hips to still them.

“Give me a minute, baby. Your pussy feels too good. Fuck, I love how your orgasm chokes my cock.”

I refrain from rocking over his body, but my hands roam over princely cheekbones and a masculine jaw. Down the middle of his pecs where a soft fuzz tickles my palm. Over abdominals ridged by the strain of holding his orgasm back. God, he is so beautiful.

He tilts his hips, a sign that I’m to move as I wish. Grinding and swirling so he’s deep and I feel him everywhere. Everywhere.

“Ride me harder, Elise. Make your sweet tits bounce for me.”