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‘Then why the hell aren’t we doing this already?’

Blake launched across the room and she met him halfway, an explosive coming together of mouths, lips, teeth, tongues. Their hands were buried in each other’s hair, her sweater and tee tossed to the floor, bodies pressed so close there was no room for air.

It was hasty, desperate, ugly, fierce, but there was no time for slow. A fear that it would suddenly stop, that there would be another unwelcome interruption, a misplaced thought, and he had no care for either. Wild horses couldn’t drag him off her now.

‘It was always you,’ she rasped against his lips. ‘I always wanted you.’

He didn’t doubt it, not in this moment, not for a second. The burn was in her eyes, her husky voice, her taut nipples that caressed his chest through her bra…

‘You should have told me sooner.’ He dragged his lips along her jaw, tasting, teasing, caught her earlobe in his teeth. ‘We could have been doing this for days.’

She shuddered. ‘Just imagine.’

‘I am imagining,’ he said into her ear, cupping her breast. ‘I’m imaging every wild thing I want to do to you.’ He rolled his thumb over her nipple and her body jerked, her cry making his cock weep and his voice hoarse. ‘Every wild thing I want to do with you.’

‘Yes, God , yes.’

Her nails bit into his shoulders as he slipped inside the lace, his thumb forcing her bra strap down as he filled his palm with her.

‘You feel so good,’ he groaned as she tried to climb him, tried to get him where she needed him to be. He came to her aid, lifting her off the ground and wrapping her jean-clad thighs around him. ‘Taste so good too.’

‘Blake!’ came his brother’s shout. ‘Astrid!’

Their heads shot to the door.

‘Fresh custard is served!’

‘I’d rather be tasting you,’ he growled under his breath, cursing his brother and his timing as ever.

She squeaked and hiccupped in one, her glazed eyes coming back to him. ‘Me too. But we’d best…’

‘Yes, we’d best…’

But she already looked thoroughly fucked. Her eyes, her hair, her mouth all swollen and begging for him to – fuck it!

He kissed her. Didn’t stop kissing her until she was up against the door and moaning, her legs locked tight around his hips as she pressed him to her clit.

Damn, they needed to leave but he was too busy giving her what she needed. What he needed, the grinding pressure driving them both to the edge. If they carried on, he’d be changing his jeans too.

‘Fuck, Blake. I need you.’ She clawed at his back, his ass, gripped him tight against her.

He tore his mouth away to look into her eyes, worshipping the rising heat in her cheeks, her panting breaths telling him she was close. So close. He hadn’t indulged in a crazed dry-humping session since his teens and now he wondered why the hell not. It was hot as fuck.

He pressed a palm into the door above her head, supported her rolling ass with his other and rocked his hips. ‘Take what you need, baby… that’s it. Come for me.’

Her eyes flared on his command, her head hitting the door as she arched back and bit her lip, trapping the whimpers that were driving him to the edge.

‘Oh my God!’ she blurted. ‘Oh my God!’

He swallowed her cries with a kiss, smothered them as her orgasm claimed her. She shook and shuddered and his cock strained, the rush of his release coming. He held her gaze?—

‘Blake! Come on, bro!’

He froze. She froze.

Two footsteps on the stairs…

‘The custard’s gaining a skin!’

‘Just a minute!’ he called out.

‘Oh God!’ she exclaimed in horror now. ‘I can’t ruin another pot.’

He grinned down at her, his smile all for her but his shout for Aiden. ‘We’re on our way!’

‘But you can’t go. Not…’ She eyed his erection jutting between them and covered her mouth.

‘As much as I’d love to take care of it right now…’ He eased back, setting her carefully on her feet. ‘We have custard to eat.’

‘You can’t walk in there like that .’

He strode across the room and pulled open the middle drawer on the dresser, tugged out a sweater. ‘I always knew this festive monstrosity would come in handy.’

‘Monstrosity?’

He pulled it over his head and turned.

‘Oh my,’ she murmured, righting her bra. ‘Why is it…?’

‘Why is it so big?’

She nodded, her eyes watering with laughter as the garish wool settled somewhere just above his knees.

‘Mom got the dimensions on the reindeer wrong and insisted on making sure his legs were in proportion with the rest of him.’

He pulled another sweater from the drawer and tossed it to her.

‘And his nose?’

‘Damned if I know. Best not ask her though, she’s a bit sensitive about her knitting disasters.’

She pulled the sweater on. ‘Won’t she think it’s strange you’re wearing it now?’

‘She’ll put it down to me being too caught up in you to care.’

She stilled as his words settled in the air between them, the sweater halfway down her body. She wet her lips, a mask steadily slipping into place with the clothing.

‘It’s what Aiden already thinks I am.’ She could mask her feelings all she liked, he was done hiding from his. ‘So why not her too?’

‘And are you?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Blake!’ came his brother again.

‘Coming!’

He only wished he was for real…

* * *

Getting through pudding with Blake sat across from her, his Christmas sweater as bright as her post-orgasmic glow, was a challenge like no other. Didn’t matter that he was wearing what could only be described as a festive tent, she’d never wanted a man more.

Every time he caught her eye, the look they shared was enough to torch the table and she was pretty sure his brother and mother knew something had happened upstairs. Which only made her cheeks glow more.

Talk turned to their last few games and the world’s view on Blake ‘reining in the aggression’ and ‘lacking the trademark fire of Fury’. The guy couldn’t win. Either he was too unhinged, a blemish on the game, or he wasn’t playing hard enough.

But what did it matter so long as he was still scoring high? Scoring high and enjoying it? Which he seemed to be…

‘I scored a new record so all the doubters can go fuck themselves as far as I’m concerned.’

‘Blake!’

‘Sorry, Mom.’

‘I’m just glad you’re not getting in as many scrapes.’

‘We all are,’ Aiden said, turning his smile on Astrid. Did he really think it was all down to her?

‘So you have the Massachusetts Penguins later this week?’ Cynthia was saying. ‘Back on your old ice. How are you feeling about it?’

‘Like we always feel,’ Blake said. ‘Like we’re gonna win.’

‘We’ll wipe the ice with them for sure.’

The twins exuded confidence, and so they should. They’d played the Penguins enough over the years. But it had to add an extra emotional punch to the game, skating in the arena they’d used as a haven to escape their father, to study and to train, to turn their lives around.

A phone started to ring from somewhere in the house and Blake looked to the hallway. ‘That’s gonna be me. Sorry Mom, can you excuse me a sec?’

‘Of course,’ she said, watching him go.

Aiden pushed his bowl aside. ‘That pie was as tasty as ever, Mom.’

‘Hand on heart, it’s the best I’ve ever had,’ Astrid added.

‘I’m so glad you enjoyed it.’ Cynthia beamed. ‘Can I get you any more?’

‘I’d love to have room for it but I’m so full.’ She pressed a hand to her overstuffed tummy. It was no lie. She shouldn’t have had that second helping.

‘In that case’ – Aiden got to his feet – ‘I’ll clear the dishes and sort the kitchen.’

‘I’ll help.’ Astrid stood with him, feeling quite emotional about the whole affair. The way they’d welcomed her into their family tradition of a Sunday roast, the way they’d made her feel like a part of the family rather than an outsider. The way Blake had laid himself bare to her…

‘Nonsense, let the boys do it,’ Cynthia said, her blue eyes suddenly sharp and astute as she took Astrid’s hand. ‘It’ll give us time to talk. Just the two of us.’

Yelp!

* * *

Blake hung up the phone and followed the sound of music to the kitchen.

Aiden was at the sink, shimmying away to Amy Winehouse and he chuckled.

‘All these years we’ve lived together, and I’ll never get used to you shaking that ass to Winehouse.’

‘You’re just jealous I’ve got better moves than you.’

‘You wish.’ Blake raked a hand through his hair and joined him at the sink. ‘You okay getting Astrid home if I head out?’

His brother froze mid-shake. ‘You’re leaving?’

‘That was the realtor; a property’s come up and it looks the business, but it won’t hang around for long.’

Aiden straightened. ‘So you’re serious about this?’

‘Moving out? Yeah…’ He’d only mentioned it in passing while they were in LA, and he’d figured his brother would think it a knee-jerk response to everything else he had going on.

With Astrid. Leo. The pressure he was under with the Titans.

But it wasn’t. ‘It’s time, bro. Jesus, we’re twenty-eight.

And don’t tell me you won’t be happy not to have to clear up after me any more. ’

‘We have cleaners that do that.’

‘No, we have cleaners who clean but you do the tidying.’

‘To be fair, you’ve been a lot better of late.’

‘I’ve been better at a lot of things.’

Aiden’s gaze drifted to the wall, to where Mom and Astrid were on other side. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. She’s a good influence.’

‘She really is… so are things… you know… going somewhere?’ He lifted his brows and Blake choked on a laugh.

‘Somewhere sounds about right.’

‘Good. I’m glad. But I gotta say, bro, I’ll be sad to see your stuff go. I’ll be sad to see you go.’

‘I’ll only be around the corner, we can grab a beer – or a coffee, any time. And hell, we’ve always got the ice.’

‘Too true.’

‘So, you’re good to take Astrid back for me?’

‘Yeah, no worries.’

‘Thanks buddy, I owe you.’

He turned away.

‘Though, Blake…’

‘Yeah?’

‘You might want to change your sweater before you unleash that sight on the world.’

* * *