Page 29 of The No Touch Roommate Rule (That Steamy Hockey Romance #2)

“ There ,” she says, cupping my cheek as she grinds closer with a sigh that’s all pleasure, no pain. “There. I’ve got you now. I’ve got every inch. God, Parker, you feel incredible.”

“So good. So, so good, baby,” I mutter, not even sure what I’m saying anymore.

I only know that as I drag in and out of her, I’ve never been happier, more turned on, or more certain that when I come, it’s going to level me. Absolutely bring me to my fucking knees.

I should probably get us both to the bed, for the safety of my injured leg if nothing else, but I couldn’t pull out of her if I tried.

And I’m not about to try.

Instead, I shift my grip, lifting her higher, adjusting my stance as we come together harder, faster. She meets me instinctively, her hips rolling to meet mine, her arms wrapped tight around me, like she’s never going to let go.

There’s no hesitation now, just open, aching need as we slam into each other. I kiss her like I’m drowning, like it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

She tilts her hips again, and fuck, the angle— the way she feels —has me gritting my teeth to hang on. Her pussy’s gripping me so tight it borders on unbearable. I’m buried so deep I can barely think.

“Touch yourself,” I whisper, forcing the words out. “Please. I want to feel you when you come.”

“Yes,” she pants. “Yes.” Her hand slides between us, fingers slipping over her clit in fast, practiced circles.

And Christ , feeling her touch herself while I’m inside her? It’s something I’ll never recover from. Never.

My rhythm falters, my control splintering.

“Don’t stop,” she pants. “I’m so close, I— God, Parker— Don’t stop ?—”

She breaks with a sound that hits me straight in the chest. A soft, shuddering cry as her whole body goes taut around me, pulsing and squeezing and…

Fuck, I can’t take it, can’t hold on another second.

I break with her, hips stuttering, forehead pressed to hers as I come deep inside her, giving her every damned drop of me as her name wrenches from my chest, again and again.

I’ve never come inside a woman before, and I instantly know I never want to come inside anyone else. Because it’s her. Just her. I adore her. Love her.

But I don’t say the words. I know better.

It’s too soon.

But maybe someday, not too far from this day…

For a few perfect seconds after, we’re just breath and skin and two pounding heartbeats.

Eventually, however, I become aware of the chill creeping into the water and the fact that my knee is starting to throb, protesting all the weight-bearing of the past few minutes.

Finally, I set Mack back on her feet, easing my cock from inside of her, both of us flinching at the sensitivity.

“Hey,” I murmur, brushing her damp hair from her face as I pull her close again. “All good?”

“Good is not a good enough word,” she murmurs, sounding as wrecked as I feel. “But I can’t think of other words. I think you broke my brain.”

I smile and kiss her, slow and careful, with a side of worship I’m not the least bit ashamed of.

“Good,” I whisper between kisses. “Me, too. But me make more words soon,” I say, playing up the caveman in my voice as I add, “or at least make cock hard and fuck you good again. In bed this time.”

She lets out a soft laugh as she reaches over, shutting off the water. “Sounds like a plan. Just give me a few minutes to recover first.” She presses one last kiss to my chest before we both step out of the shower.

She wobbles as she reaches for a towel, but I catch her hips, steadying her.

“Thanks,” she says, shooting a slightly dazed smile over her shoulder. “You might have broken my legs, too.

“That’s okay. I’m already in a brace. We can limp to the bed together.”

“But the hot tub,” she says, her lips pushing into a pout as she pats herself dry. “We have to get some hot tub time in before we get dressed for the party.”

“Oh, right,” I say, admiring the way her breasts bounce a little as she rubs the towel up and down her back. “Hot tub, minibar, champagne, more orgasms. I remember now.”

She arches a brow. “I don’t remember champagne being part of the plan.”

“It is now,” I murmur, as she hangs the towel on a hook and heads toward the balcony doors completely naked, her hips swaying like something from my filthiest dreams.

I stand, admiring, memorizing, promising myself that I’m never going to forget a second of this night.

Halfway across the room, she glances over her shoulder, arching a brow. “You coming?”

“Sure, the hell am,” I promise. “Be there in two minutes. Tops.” I snag water bottles, champagne, two glasses, and a tiny sleeve of overpriced cashews from the minibar, figuring we might need protein to keep our energy up.

By the time I get outside, Makena’s already lowered herself into the steaming water, her arms resting on the edges of the tub.

She smiles as I cross our private patio. It looks like we’re well hidden from our neighbors, though honestly, I’m too eager to get back to her side to care too much if we weren’t.

“Should we toast to the fact that you fit?” she teases.

“Hell yes, we should,” I say, twisting the cork. It comes off with a cheerful pop that echoes into the humid air. “It was touch and go there for a minute. I was sweating, woman, I won’t lie. If we hadn’t been able to bone, I would have been the saddest man in Big Dick Town.”

She laughs—a light, easy sound that makes me happy. “Same. But I believed in us. I knew we could do it. We’re fucking heroes.”

“Literally.” I hand her one glass before slipping into the tub beside her with the other. “To a perfect fit.”

She lifts her champagne. “To a perfect fit, and to many more to come.”

“Sounds perfect,” I murmur, clinking my glass to hers and holding her gaze over the rim as we drink.

“ Mmm . Yummy,” she says, downing the small glass in one gulp.

Before I can tease her about taking things slow, she slides closer, straddling my lap, banishing any inclination to introduce “slow” into the equation. She settles over me like she belongs there.

Which, as far as I’m concerned, she does.

My hands find her hips. Her hands find my neck.

And just like that, we’re kissing again—no big talk, no pressure, no pretending this isn’t exactly what we both want.

My champagne sits untouched as the sun slides toward the horizon.

Waves crash below us, seabirds call, and somewhere down there, a bunch of crustaceans could be about to hurl themselves onto the shore in one final act of glory.

But we won’t be there to see it.

We don’t leave the room for the rest of the night, too lost in each other to worry about finding anything else to do. We order room service, take another shower to wash the chlorine off, and finally make it to the bed, where Makena rides me like she was made to take every inch.

By the time we finally collapse into an exhausted tangle, I’m the happiest I can remember being in a damned long time.

But I don’t care if things aren’t always this easy, if there are still obstacles to clear and bridges to cross before we make things official.

I’m not going anywhere.

Not as long as this woman is tucked against me like she finally knows I’m safe to lean on.