Page 14 of Stick Break (Boston Bucks #8)

She tilts her head, the flicker of uncertainty back in her eyes. “What?”

I gesture toward the cottage. “If we go in there, if you let me make you feel something else, it might be longer than a fleeting moment.”

She laughs, and it’s like the sky cracking open. A warm, rich, full-bodied sound that breaks through the tension and wraps around my chest like a balm. I want to bottle it. Memorize it. Hear it every damn day for the next seven days… maybe longer.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” she teases, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat off her brow. “But I’ll admit, I was a little concerned. I mean, a guy with your stamina on the ice…”

She says that like she knows I’m an NHL player, but we’re not delving into the specifics.

“If were being totally honest here, I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you asleep in my bed.

Wanted to put my hands and mouth on you.

Wanted to taste every inch of your body.

So with much shame…” I hang my head with disgrace.

“I admit, it’s entirely possible, that the first time might be a little fast… ”

She arches a brow, her grin playful. “You mean there will be more than one time?”

I meet her gaze and let a slow, wicked grin tug at my lips. “I can pretty much guarantee it.”

Her laughter bubbles out again, warm and unguarded, and something inside me unclenches.

For the first time in weeks, maybe longer, it feels like the world isn’t crumbling beneath my feet.

I want to sweep her into my arms, carry her to my bed, lay her down like a promise, but before I can figure out how to navigate that with my injury, she slips off my lap and sways toward the cottage with a flirty little wiggle in her step.

She glances back, over her shoulder. “Guess this solves the bed-sharing dilemma.”

I don’t even hesitate. “Get your ass inside. On my bed. Now.”

She squeals, disappears through the door, and every blood cell in my body races to catch up.

I follow her in, close the door behind me, and lock it.

My eyes sweep the room, my buddy’s beach cottage, where none of this was supposed to happen…

and yet here we are. A rustle of bedsheets pulls my gaze down the small hallway.

I walk slowly toward the bedroom, my pulse thudding in my ears, and then I see her.

She’s under the covers.

My sweatshirt is on the floor.

“You’re…” My voice comes out rougher than I mean. I swallow. “You’re naked.”

She laughs, eyes sparkling. “Not the first time you’ve seen me naked tonight, Rip.”

I grin. “Yeah, true. But now you’re naked for me , which means I get to touch you. Big difference.”

Still rocking just my boxers, I feel my cock stir, thickening like it has a mind of its own. I grab the waistband and peel them off with a sly smile. Her eyes practically pop out when she sees me fully revealed.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen this before,” I tease, wrapping a hand around myself. “I caught you peeking.”

She lifts her chin, cool as ice, but I know she’s a hot mess beneath that facade. I know, because I am too. “You’re right. I did peek earlier.”

“Unfortunately, I was already in the ocean when you got undressed. But I did get a feel.”

Her eyes widen and she shivers slightly.

I close my eyes for a moment, remembering. “Fuck, you felt amazing wrapped around me.”

I step toward the bed, trailing a finger teasingly around the blanket she’s clutching under her chin. Slowly, deliberately, I drag it down her body, uncovering every inch of her soft, glowing skin.

My heart thunders. My cock thickens even more.

She lies there, wide-eyed under my gaze, squirming a little under my intense stare.

“Char,” I whisper when she shifts, “You are absolutely gorgeous.”

Her smile flickers, a shadow of worry crossing her face.

“Char?”

“This…” she starts quietly, biting her lip. “This is about escaping reality, right? It’s not about who we are right now, in this moment. Not about who we are outsidethis bubble?”

I tilt my head, reading between the lines. Is she worried about the mess she’s running from? About me thinking less of her?

“Like I said,” I say softly, “This isn’t Vegas, but what happens in this bubble we have here at the cottagestaysat the cottage.”

She nods, a small smile returning. “Except for memories. We get to take those with us.”

“Yes, beautiful,” I murmur, my fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “We get to take them with us.”

She relaxes, sinking deeper into the mattress, looking soft, warm, and absolutelyready. My eyes roam over her again, and when they meet hers, I see the fire burning there — fierce, hot, and explosive.

Goddammit, I’m so ready to make her forget the real world.

“Nice,” she whispers.

“Really nice,” I say as I lean closer.

She parts her legs like an invitation. “Now, what was that about putting your hands and mouth on me? And I believe I remember something about tasting every inch?”

My brain shorts out, fireworks exploding in my chest as need zings through me.

I growl low and wild—like some feral animal about to claim its prize—and climb onto the bed, sliding between her silky thighs.

Just like that, the world outside ceases to exist.

It’s just us.

Want. Need. Heat.

Two broken souls chasing one perfect moment before reality drags us back.

And I swear, I am going to give her a memory worth keeping. I’m not sure why it’s important, I only know that it is.