Page 9 of Rematch (Stingrays Hockey #3)

Opening the door, he allowed her to walk in first before following, then he threw the latch once it was closed, leaning against it and smiling at her.

“Alone at last.” He reached out to pull her into his arms, resuming the kiss they’d started under the mistletoe.

His lips were warm, his breath hot, and his large, strong hands on her back equal parts comforting and tantalizing. It felt as if he was drugging her with his kisses and touches, and she was suddenly light-headed, giddy.

It had been too damn long since she’d had sex, and she didn’t know when she’d have the chance to indulge again, considering she would be busy with the move, new job, adjusting to life in a new country, and trying to recall the three years of French she’d taken in high school, while adding to it with her Babbel app.

She was taking advantage of tonight because Preston seemed like the kind of man who knew his way around a bedroom.

She and Rick had both been virgins when they’d started dating, and while that had always felt like something special they shared, she was starting to see the benefit to playing the field because their sex life hadn’t exactly set the world on fire. It had just been…pleasant.

God. Yet another place where she’d settled. Had she seriously thought a sex life that was pleasant was enough?

Sex with Rick was not passionate, not panty-soaking, not anywhere near what she was experiencing just kissing Preston right now. Her skin tingled, her pussy clenched, and her body temperature currently rivaled that of the sun.

Preston pulled away slightly, running his fingers through her hair. She jerked slightly when he drew one fingertip down the middle of her forehead and down along her nose.

“You disappeared again. Second thoughts?”

She shook her head before he even finished his question. “Hell no.”

Her quick response provoked a loud laugh from him.

“You understand there’s no point of no return. You say no and it’s no.”

“I’m not going to say no,” she reassured him.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” Preston was so open with his actions and his compliments and his stories, even those that others might be too embarrassed to tell.

She’d spent the entire evening fascinated by how easily he expressed his emotions, whether it was laughing at a joke or even scowling whenever she talked about Rick.

“Do you want a penny for your thoughts, or should I guess where your mind wandered?”

She thought about brushing him off, uncertain how he would feel if she confessed to thinking about her ex. Because she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, didn’t want him to think she wasn’t one thousand percent ready for this night with him.

In the end, her response wasn’t necessary.

“Rick?” he asked.

She grimaced, then nodded. “It just occurred to me that the lack of passion in our relationship carried over to the bedroom. Another item in the boring category.”

Chelsea wanted to kick her own ass for bringing up her ex yet again.

“Preston, I’m sorry. Rick is not what I want to talk?—”

“Challenge accepted,” he interjected.

“What?”

“Tonight. I have one goal. To show you exactly how you deserve to be treated in bed, so you never settle for less again.”

Chelsea didn’t realize her mouth had fallen open until Preston placed his finger under her chin to simultaneously close it as he leaned in to kiss her again.

Then he twisted them, switching their positions, pressing her against the door at her back.

He reached down, grasping one of her legs, lifting it around his waist so that he could press his denim-covered crotch against her.

There was no mistaking the thick bulge beneath his jeans, and her mouth watered at the idea of taking him in her hand, her body.

Preston rutted against her as they kissed, Chelsea tilting her hips as much as possible, trying to steal every bit of delicious friction she could.

She twisted her head when the kiss dragged on. She loved kissing him, but she needed so much more than that.

“Please,” she murmured. “I need you. Need…” She let her fingers do the talking as she reached between them, drawing her fingers along his dick. She couldn’t see it, but she could sure as shit feel it.

Preston was big everywhere.

He groaned, placing his forehead against hers, their hot, panting breaths mingling.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he admitted. “In the best fucking way, Chels.”

He wasn’t alone in his madness. She pressed harder against his cock, then reached for the top button of his jeans.

He captured her wrist, stopping her. “Not here. I want you under me, in bed. All night.”

“Yes. God yes. I want that too.”

He took her hand and led her to the bed as she took a moment to look around. It was a nice hotel room, the king-sized bed extremely inviting.

Preston had turned on the hallway light upon entering, but now, he switched it off before turning on one of the bedside lamps. The softer lighting, as well as the moon shining in through the window, cast the room is warm shadows, creating the perfect atmosphere for what came next.

“So…” she said, a tiny bit of uncertainty creeping in. She’d been with only one man her entire life, and they’d established a definite, boring routine of undressing themselves before crawling between the sheets.

She was flying blind here.

Preston, once again, seemed to be in tune with her thoughts and feelings. “I know we just met, but can you trust me to take the lead on this?”

She blew out a long, slow breath. “I was hoping you would.”

“How adventurous are you feeling?”

His question should have sparked some concerns, but instead they felt more like a dare, a challenge, one she wanted to rise to.

“Refer back to my comment about getting out of a passionless relationship.” And then, before she knew what was happening, a flirty, fun side she’d never fully embraced emerged. “Bring it on,” she challenged, her tone pure sex kitten.

Preston reacted like a sprinter to the sound of a starting pistol. He cut the distance between them within seconds, his hands cupping her cheeks as he gave her a kiss a million times hotter than all the ones that came before.

This touch, this kiss, was one of utter possession. She was no stranger to romance novels, always drawn to the darker, steamier ones where the alpha hero claimed his woman. Clearly, she’d been seeking the passion that had been lacking between her and Rick through fiction.

Preston wasted no time taking what he wanted. His fingers brushed her sides as he lifted the hem of her sweater, removing it in one quick tug. He did the same with the T-shirt she wore beneath it, then her bra. The pile of clothes at their feet was growing. Unfortunately, it was all hers.

Preston reached out, squeezing her breasts, his gaze locked on her chest. She was tempted to use his sweater line on him, reminding him where her eyes were.

But she didn’t because the way he was looking at her—like she was Christmas and the Fourth of July personified—filled her well in a way she needed oh-so badly.

He bent forward slightly, drawing the tip of his tongue over one nipple, then the other, in a touch that was too light to be much more than a tease.

She was tempted to grasp the back of his neck, the same way he’d done to her a couple of times tonight, forcing him to suck her nipples harder.

Preston lifted his head, giving her a knowing look that made her wonder if he could read minds.

“If we hadn’t just met, I’d tie you to that bed and play with those nipples for hours until you were begging me to fuck you.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to beg him to do just that.

Unfortunately, Preston spoke first. “But you don’t know me well enough for that. Bondage requires a much higher level of trust. So I’ll have to find other ways to make you beg.”

Her pussy clenched tighter, and her panties grew even damper. She’d never wanted Rick like this, her arousal off the charts.

However, one thing kept playing over and over in her head on repeat.

One night with Preston would never be enough.

Preston licked her nipples again, but this time, he punctuated that tender stroke with a much firmer pinch, his thumb and forefinger tightening until she cried out in pain and desire.

“God,” she breathed, as he continued to play with her breasts, every touch, taste, bite, pinch, and suck making her dizzy with need. And then, she did indeed beg. “Please. Preston, please.”

Finally, after several years passed, he lifted his head. She expected to see a self-satisfied smirk. Instead, she was met with a mirror image of her own face—one lined with a yearning that bordered on painful.

“I want you. Now.” Chelsea started to divest Preston of his sweater as well, but he pushed her hands away.

“Might go faster if I do it.” He’d pulled the stocking off and left it in the car. Now, he unwound the Christmas lights. “I wrapped them around me after I put the sweater on and I’m not sure I can get the thing off until they’re gone.”

“I love how you used shipping tape. Very classy.” She couldn’t help but make the same joke she’d made at the party, enjoying their easygoing, teasing banter.

He tugged the lights off, the slight ripping of the tape he’d used to hold them to the sweater, filling the room. “You don’t want to see me try to thread a needle.”

Finally free, he dropped the twinkle lights to the floor, then pulled the sweater over his head with one hand. Unlike her, he hadn’t worn anything underneath.

Chelsea moved without thought, her hands sliding over his smooth skin. There was a light smattering of hair around his nipples and before she could consider her actions, her lips were there, offering his tight brown nipples the same sensual torture he’d given her.

Preston’s hands closed in her hair, the firm grip causing her scalp to sting. This was her first taste of hair pulling, so she was shocked by the reverberations it sent through her body, drawing a throbbing line along her spine from her scalp to her pussy.