Page 10 of Slap Shot (Charm City Chill #3)

"Never," she gasped, her own hands tearing away his clothes. "God, Oliver, never. I was scared and I'm so fucking sorry."

"Show me," he demanded, lifting her onto the desk and stepping between her thighs. "Show me you're mine. Show me this is real."

His frantic touches were infectious, making her own hands shake as she worked his belt open. When she freed him, he was already hard and leaking, and the sight made her mouth water.

"I need you," she whispered, wrapping her hand around his length and stroking him slowly.

"Fuck," Oliver groaned, his hips jerking into her touch. "Don't stop. I need your hands on me."

But even as he said it, he was pushing her hand away, his own fingers hooking into her panties and tearing them aside with impatient force. The sound of fabric ripping made them both freeze for a moment, staring at each other with wild eyes.

"I'll buy you new ones," he said.

"I don't care about the panties. I care about you. Only you."

Computer monitors glowed around them, casting blue light across their desperate faces as Oliver positioned himself at her entrance. The servers hummed in the background, but all Heather could focus on was the way he looked at her, like she was everything he'd ever wanted, and he'd almost lost her.

"I need you to know," he said, his voice shaking with emotion and restraint, "that what we have is real. That I would never hurt you or betray you. That you can trust me with everything you are."

"I know," she whispered, reaching up to cup his face. "I know, and I'm so sorry I forgot. I'm sorry I let fear make me stupid."

He pushed inside her in one desperate thrust, both of them crying out at the intensity. There was no gentleness this time, no careful buildup, just raw need and the desperate desire to reconnect after almost losing each other.

"Yes," Heather gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper.

Oliver set a punishing pace, driving into her with an intensity that made the desk shake and the monitors flicker. Each thrust was punctuated by desperate words, apologies and promises and declarations that made her heart soar even as her body burned.

"Never doubt us again," he commanded, one hand gripping her hip while the other tangled in her hair. "Never doubt what you mean to me."

"Never," she promised, her nails digging crescents into his shoulders. "Harder. I need to feel you for days."

He complied with a growl, his pace becoming almost violent in its intensity. The sound of skin against skin echoed through his private sanctuary, mixing with their desperate moans and the quiet hum of the servers.

"Touch yourself," he ordered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I want to feel you come around me while I tell you how much you mean to me."

Her hand flew to her clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves while Oliver continued his relentless pace. The dual sensation was overwhelming, pushing her rapidly toward the edge.

"You're everything," he panted against her neck, his teeth scraping her skin. "You're brilliant and strong and so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes. You're mine, Heather. Mine to protect, mine to love, mine to fuck until you can't remember your own name."

"Oliver," she gasped, her orgasm building to a crescendo. "I'm going to—"

"Tell me you trust me," he demanded, his rhythm becoming erratic as his own climax approached. "Tell me you'll never doubt us again."

"I trust you," she cried out as the orgasm crashed over her. "I trust you completely, and I'll never doubt us again. Never."

Her inner walls clamped down around him, and Oliver followed her over the edge with a harsh groan of her name, spilling inside her with desperate pulses.

They stayed locked together for long moments, both shaking and gasping for air. But even as their breathing began to slow, Heather could feel Oliver still semi-hard inside her, and the knowledge sent fresh heat spiraling through her belly.

"Again," she whispered against his throat. "I need you again.”

Oliver pulled back to look at her, his dark eyes still heated with want. "Baby.”

"Please," she interrupted, rolling her hips against him and feeling him harden fully inside her again. "I need to taste you. I need to worship you the way you deserve."

Something primal flashed in his eyes. He pulled out of her slowly, both of them gasping at the sensation, then helped her slide off the desk. Her legs were shaky, but she was already sinking to her knees in front of him, her hands reaching for his still-slick length.

"Fuck," Oliver breathed, his hands automatically threading through her hair as she took him into her mouth. "Heather, you don't have to."

"I want to," she said, pulling back just long enough to meet his eyes. "I want to show you how much you mean to me. How sorry I am for hurting you."

She took him deeper, using her tongue and lips and the gentle scrape of her teeth to drive him wild. Oliver's head fell back with a groan, his fingers tightening in her hair as she worked him with enthusiastic desperation.

"So good," he panted. "So fucking perfect. I love watching you take me like this."

The praise spurred her on, and she doubled her efforts, using everything she'd learned about his body to bring him to the edge. When his breathing became ragged and his hips began to thrust gently into her mouth, she pulled back with a soft pop.

"Not yet," she said breathlessly, standing and turning to face the workstation. She bent over the desk, presenting herself to him with shameless need. "I want you to take me from behind. I want to feel how deep you can go."

Oliver's hands were immediately on her hips, positioning himself at her entrance. "You're going to be the death of me," he said, then thrust into her in one smooth motion.

This angle was different, deeper, more intense, and they both moaned at the sensation. Oliver's hands gripped her hips as he set another punishing pace, each thrust driving her against the desk and making her see stars.

"Is this what you need?" he asked, one hand sliding up her spine to tangle in her hair. "Is this how you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," she gasped, pushing back against him to meet each thrust. "Don't stop. Don't ever stop."

The new position allowed him to hit her G-spot with every thrust, and combined with the emotional intensity of their makeup, it wasn't long before she was climbing toward another peak. Oliver seemed to sense it, his hand sliding around to find her clit and circle it with perfect pressure.

"Come for me again," he commanded. "I want to feel you fall apart around me one more time."

The orgasm hit her like a freight train, more intense than the first. She cried out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over her, her inner walls clenching around him rhythmically. Oliver followed with a growl, his own release triggering another round of aftershocks that left them both trembling.

They stayed like that for several minutes, their foreheads touching. When Heather finally trusted herself to speak, she found Oliver watching her with an expression of wonder and possession that made her heart race all over again.

"That was," she began, then trailed off, not sure how to finish.

"Yeah," Oliver agreed, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "It was."

As they slowly untangled themselves, Heather became aware of their surroundings again, the humming servers, the glowing monitors, the very real reminder that they were in Oliver's private sanctuary.

The vulnerability of what had just happened, of how completely she'd surrendered to him, should have scared her.

Instead, it was like the most natural thing in the world.

He led her to the shower where they cleaned up and kissed some more. After playfully drying each other off, they got dressed.

"So," she said, straightening her clothes and trying to regain some semblance of composure. "About our hacker problem."

Oliver's grin was pure male satisfaction. "Right. The hacker problem." He cupped her ass and squeezed.

"This is serious," Heather protested, though she was fighting a smile.

"So am I." Oliver's expression sobered as he pulled up the network analysis on his main monitor. "Whoever's doing this, they're not just targeting the team anymore. They're targeting us specifically."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it. They frame me using evidence designed to make you suspect me.

They time it perfectly to drive a wedge between us just when we're getting close to identifying them.

" Oliver's fingers moved across the keyboard, pulling up logs and data streams. "This isn't about money or team secrets anymore. This is personal."

Heather studied the data, her post-orgasmic haze clearing as her analytical mind engaged. "They want us to stop working together."

"Which means we're closer to identifying them than we realized." Oliver turned to face her, his expression grim. "The question is: what are we going to do about it?"

"We're going to catch them," she said simply.

"You're damned right we are."