Page 33 of The No Touch Roommate Rule (That Steamy Hockey Romance #2)

“Yeah?” I ask. “So…you trust me?”

She bites her bottom lip. “I do. Can you trust me? Even though I pushed you away like it was my third job for months and months?”

“As long as you’re done pushing me away now.”

She nods, hope in her eyes as she whispers, “I’m done pushing you away. So, get over here and kiss me already.”

When my lips meet hers, she sighs into my mouth with a relief that echoes through my bones. It’s like she’s been holding her breath and can finally exhale.

I know the feeling.

“Bed,” she says against my lips. “And fuck me hard. Like you mean it.”

“Bossy.”

“You like it.”

“I really do.”

We fall onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, urgent and clumsy with need. Her hands are in my hair, skimming over my shoulders, skating down my sides—while I work my way up her body with my mouth.

I catch her wrists, pinning them gently above her head. Her breath catches, and her eyes go dark. I lean down, teasing my lips against hers. She arches closer, chasing more contact, but I pull away. Again. And again. Until she’s squirming beneath me, frustrated sounds escaping her throat.

“Parker, I swear?—”

I silence her with a proper kiss this time, giving her everything I’ve got until she melts into the mattress.

Her wrists flex under my grip, but she doesn’t try to break free.

And when I release them to trail my way down her arms, she keeps her hands where I put them, giving me her trust all over again.

My mouth follows the same path.

The hollow of her throat where her pulse hammers. The soft skin between her breasts. Her ribs, where she’s ticklish. Lower, where she’s already wet and ready, tasting like desire and home.

And mine.

Mine, mine, mine…

The word thrums through my head, a drumbeat of celebration as she comes apart under my tongue with her fingers twisted in the sheets and my name on her lips. Before she’s finished shaking, I surge over her, sliding inside in one smooth thrust that drags matching groans from our throats.

No words now. Just her fingertips digging into my skin, my face buried in her neck, the perfect rhythm we find without trying. Like our bodies know each other, inside and out.

Like we’ve been doing this forever instead of twenty-four hours.

When she tightens around me, pulling me deeper with her heels against my ass, I capture her mouth again. Swallow her cries. Give her mine. Fall apart with her in the afternoon light, connected in every way that matters.

Afterward, we lie there sticky and boneless. She traces circles on my chest, I play with her hair, and neither of us seems to need anything else to be completely at peace.

Or so I think.

Apparently, Makena’s post-coital thoughts are a little more complicated than mine.

“Fair warning, my dad’s probably going to be a dick about this,” she says, petting my chest hair with a lazy finger in a way that’s weirdly soothing. “About us being together for real. He clearly thinks you’re too young, and I’m a gross old pervert.”

“ My gross old pervert,” I murmur.

She props herself up on an elbow to shoot me an amused glare. “I’m serious, Parker.”

“So am I. Your pervert side is top-notch,” I say, pushing on when she huffs in irritation.

“Fine, your dad can go pound rocks for all I care. Your opinion is the only one that matters to me. But if you care what he thinks, I could talk to him, take him out for a beer, and convince him that I’m a full-fledged adult capable of taking care of his daughter. ”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” she says, frowning. “I’m not a stray cat.”

“And what if I want to take care of you?” I smooth her hair from her forehead. “And have you take care of me? What if that sounds like living the dream to me?”

Her lips twitch at the edges. “Well, when you put it like that…” She sighs. “Let’s not worry about it now. I just wanted to warn you.”

“Consider me warned. And not at all worried.”

“Good.” She kisses my chest, right over my heart. “We should get ready. The crabs await.”

“Or we could skip it. Stay here. Order room service again. See how many times I can make you come before checkout tomorrow.”

She laughs, but she’s already sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress.

“We paid forty dollars for those tickets. Twice. We’re going to the crab party.

” She backs away across the carpet, a naughty gleam in her eye.

“But if you hurry, we should still have time to do dirty things in the shower before we get clean.”

I jump out of bed with a speed that isn’t wise for a man in a leg brace, but it makes her laugh.

So…totally worth it.

By the time we arrive at the crab watch just after seven, the party is already popping off. Kids bounce on mini-trampolines or dash through a maze made of hay bales, swing dancers reel on a platform closer to the beach, and someone’s built a bonfire despite the heat still rising off the sand.

“No crabs yet,” the attendant tells us cheerfully, handing us each a plastic cup. “But the beer’s cold, there’s plenty of food, and karaoke starts in an hour!”

“Oh, good!” Makena enthuses.

“God save us all,” I mutter, making her laugh.

“Don’t worry,” she whispers as we pause to consider our food options just inside the entrance. “No karaoke for me tonight. My throat is too sore from all the screaming in the shower.”

I grin and hug her closer. “I love making you scream in the shower. But you can karaoke if you want. I was just kidding.”

“I know, but I’d rather just be with you tonight,” she says, sending that increasingly familiar warm feeling spreading through my chest.

We find a table by the concrete path that runs along the beach—better for my knee than walking around too much in the sand—and settle in with beers and shrimp baskets. We eat, watch the sunset, and listen to the waves crash—close enough to feel the party vibe, but still have our own separate peace.

“This is nice,” she says, leaning into my side. “I’m glad we came.”

“Even if the yeeting crabs are a no-show?”

“Hush, don’t jinx us. The yeeting could start any minute.” She steals my last shrimp. “But yeah. You want peach cobbler?”

“Do they have ice cream for on top?”

“Looks like it.”

“Then, hell yes.” I start to get up, but she presses a hand to my shoulder.

“No, let me get it. Rest your knee. You did a lot of walking today.”

“Okay, thanks, baby,” I say as she sashays away toward the cobbler line, feeling cared for.

And horny.

Again.

But that’s her fault for wearing those tiny jean shorts.

An hour passes. No jumping crabs. No leaping shrimp.

Not so much as a depressed cod flopping itself onto the sand in an existential cry for help.

But the party doesn’t care. The karaoke is in full swing now—we’re currently being treated to “Margaritaville” for the third time—and kids are gleefully setting their marshmallows alight in the bonfire, sending the smell of burnt sugar drifting on the breeze.

Finally, another thirty minutes later, we give up on yeet watch, thank the organizers, and head to the exit. We take the concrete walkway back toward the hotel, her hand in mine. The moon’s big and bright in the sky, turning the beach and Makena’s hair a pretty silver.

She’s so fucking beautiful, like a sexy elf had a baby with a 1980s movie star, one of the really cute ones with the turned-up noses.

“What?” she asks, catching me staring.

“Nothing. Just thinking about tomorrow.” I wasn’t thinking about tomorrow. Not right then, anyway, but I’ve been thinking about it for most of the night. I’ve been wondering. Hoping… “How would you feel about a detour?”

Her brow furrows. “What kind of detour did you have in mind?”

“The kind where we skip Destin, and I introduce you to my grandmother, instead.”

She goes still beside me on the path. “Your grandmother? The one in Oxford?”

“Yeah,” I say, surprised that she remembered.

I only mentioned Nana once, when we were making cornbread after she moved in, and I suggested we should try my grandmother’s recipe the next time.

“I haven’t seen her in a while, but she’s the coolest. My favorite family member, by far.

I think you’d like her and…I’d like you to meet her. ”

I brace myself for the Makena bolt. She probably won’t make a literal break for it this time—I think we’re past that—but this is another big step, just hours after we decided to make things official and move in together.

I could be pushing too hard, too fast.

“I wouldn’t rush,” I add, when she doesn’t respond right away, “but she’s eighty-two and had a heart attack a couple of years ago. She’s doing a lot better now, but she’s obviously not going to be with us forever, and?—”

“I would be honored,” Makena cuts in, giving my hand a squeeze. “Really. Sorry, I left you hanging. I was just…” She shrugs, a little self-consciously. “I was just surprised, I guess. It’s been a long time since someone asked me to meet their family.”

“Well, you’ve already met the less enjoyable members of mine,” I say. “Figure you should meet the fun one, too.”

She exhales as we start back down the path, still hand in hand. “Speaking of the less enjoyable members of your family, what are your mom and dad going to think about you shacking up with your old babysitter?”

I shrug. “I doubt they’ll care. These days, they don’t have a lot of energy to care about anything except making each other miserable in court. Dad only came to two of the Voodoo games last year, even though his condo is literally ten minutes away.”

She makes a sympathetic sound. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” I say, smiling down at her. “I’m excited. You’re going to love Oxford. Tons of kick-ass places to eat breakfast.”

“Well, you know how much I love breakfast,” she says. “Especially when it comes with strawberries.”

The callback to this morning makes my cock twitch.

“Careful,” I warn. “Keep reminding me of how good you taste, and I might have to go down on you again before bed.”

“Oh no,” she murmurs, her eyes dancing. “That would be terrible.”

Spoiler: it’s not terrible.

It’s amazing, and after I’ve tasted her and fucked her and wrapped her up in little spoon position for the night, I feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Tomorrow, I’m taking my gorgeous, sexy girlfriend to meet the only family that matters. Tonight, I get to drift off, holding my future in my arms.

Right where she belongs.