Page 40 of You’re The One (Saints Hockey #2)

THIRTY-SIX

“Explore all your connections…”

Those might’ve been the hardest words I’ve ever had to say. But they were necessary.

Emma was right, it’s better when you’re sure.

She reminded me again on the plane, sliding into Summer’s seat while she was in the bathroom. She’d said the same thing after our two-on-one: trust the process. Let Dom have the experience he signed up for.

I needed to hear it.

Dom signed up for this, believing this was how he’d find love. And I agreed to play matchmaker, and then try to date, I knew the stakes.

Yeah. This is definitely good.

My lips part from his when the backs of my legs bump the mattress. I spin us, press a hand to his chest, nudging him back. When he sits on the edge, I straddle his hips and kiss him again. Our tongues tangle as I rock against him, earning a deep, guttural groan from his chest.

His hands grip my waist, and he changes our position, laying me in the center of the bed. His tongue flicks against my ear, then his lips carve a path down my neck, lower, toward my chest.

This is perfect.

Exactly what I need.

A distraction.

Something to clear my mind. To stop second-guessing what I said. To silence the five hundred other versions of that conversation playing in my head.

But instead of continuing his descent, he reverses course, capturing my lips again. This time, he kisses me softly. Tenderly.

It makes me ache.

With wanting.

With needing .

With… feelings I’m not able to process.

When he eases back enough to look at me, a protest starts to form on my lips, but I’m pinned beneath the weight of his gaze. I try desperately not to squirm.

The look in his eyes sets off that buzzing under my skin. I can’t tell whether it’s the good kind or not. I’d kill for a switch to flip it all off. To feel only the physical, not the pull-you-apart-from-the-inside feeling he brings out in me.

“Dom. What are you doing?”

“Looking at you.”

“That’s obvious. But why?”

His lips tip up on one side. “Do I need a reason?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles and buries his face in my hair, taking a deep inhale.

“Are you smelling me?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t even try to play it cool.

I rotate my hips, impatient to get this show back on the road, but he seems content to hold me. And smell me, apparently.

“Dom,” I grumble, resorting to clawing at his back now.

“Needy little thing.”

He sucks my earlobe into his mouth, and I’ve got to say, I never thought that was one of my erogenous zones.

“Are we going to have sex or not?”

He shakes his head, his wet hair brushing the side of my face. “But we can do other things.”

“What do you mean?”

I grip his hair and tug until he lifts and meets my eyes.

“I don’t think we’ve been trying to date long enough.” His voice is filled with amusement.

Smart-ass.

This isn’t the longest I’ve “dated” someone, but it is the most open I’ve ever been with another person. I’m not sure when, exactly, I decided I wanted it to be him. But once the thought landed, it stuck.

I want Dom to take my virginity.

Even thinking the words makes me cringe. It shouldn’t be something to give or take. I just want to be rid of the weight of it. But the longer I’ve waited, the heavier it’s gotten. The bigger the deal it’s become. At this point, it feels like a scarlet letter.

I didn’t stay a virgin for any moral or religious reason. I’ve wanted to have sex for a while. I’ve told myself I’d settle for anyone, but deep down, maybe I’ve been waiting for someone like him.

I should probably tell him. About my inexperience. So he knows what he’s walking into. So he can adjust his expectations.

But I like the way he looks at me, as though I’m strong. Capable.

Will that change if he knows? Will he go back to treating me with kid-gloves?

I don’t want to find out.

“What, do you have a three-date minimum?” I quip.

“Something like that,” he huffs. “And I have things to take care of first.”

His mouth trails along my jaw as his hand cups my breast. I’ve got to say, he’s a total clit-tease for someone with no intention of following through.

“That’s ominous,” I manage, breath hitching when he grinds against me, finally giving me some friction.

I’m starting to worry about the state of my linen pants. I can already feel the wet mess between my thighs and he’s barely done anything yet.

Is this going to turn into another getting-myself-off situation?

I wouldn’t complain, but I want more.

“What’s one thing you want to do while we’re here?” he asks.

I groan, this time in pure frustration. “Do you normally talk this much during hookups?”

He pauses. I can’t tell whether I’ve offended him or if he’s actually considering the question.

“Never,” he says into my skin. “Are you getting impatient?”

“No. I’ve been impatient.”

He laughs again, and God , I think I kind of love it.

It’s sexy, but also comforting. I don’t know how he manages to key me up and put me at ease in equal measure.

“Where do you want me?” He starts his path down my body again.

Everywhere doesn’t feel like an appropriate answer. Instead, I cup my pussy and tell him, “Here.”

“Do you want my fingers or my tongue?”

He’s made it to my stomach, teasing along the waistband of my pants.

I thread my fingers into his hair and push him lower. “Do I have to choose?”

“Fuck,” he groans. “I love it when you’re bossy.”

He grabs my ankles and pulls them apart until my knees are bent and he’s kneeling between them.

He presses a kiss to my pussy, and even through the fabric, the contact makes me twitch.

His hands slide under my butt, fingers hooking into the waistband of my pants. “Lift for me.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. I raise my hips, and he slides off both my pants and panties in one smooth motion, leaving me completely exposed.

“Is this what you want?”

He lays lazy kisses along my inner thighs, right up to the crease where my thigh meets my core, deliberately avoiding the one place I need him.

“Getting warmer.”

“Here?” He kisses somewhere near my knee.

“Colder.”

He trails back up, licking just shy of my clit.

“Warmer,” I whine, a shudder running through me.

His tongue finds me with one slow, warm lap from my entrance to my clit, making my eyes squeeze shut as I focus on nothing but the sensation.

There’s no hesitation now. No more teasing. Just him working me over with single-minded focus.

I grasp his hair with one hand and the sheets with the other, and my hips move restlessly. I can’t stay still under the onslaught of his mouth and tongue.

When he adds a finger, then two, and curls them just right, I nearly come undone. But he backs off, pulling away from my clit.

My lids stay closed, but I can feel his gaze on me like a caress.

“Look at me,” he rasps.

I blink into focus. His pupils are blown wide, nearly swallowing the color. He keeps his fingers moving inside me, not looking away.

It’s too much.

Too intense.

Too good.

“I’m close,” I rasp.

I try to guide him where I want him, my fingers still tangled in his hair. But he doesn’t budge. Just keeps watching me.

Then he presses a single kiss to my center and pulls away entirely, moving up the bed.

“What are you doing?” I turn my head to follow him, irritation edging into my voice.

He pulls his shirt off before he lies beside me, tipping his head toward me. He extends his hand. “Come.”

“That’s what I was trying to do,” I grumble.

He gives me one of those crooked smiles, and it makes my core clench. I can’t believe I ever disliked that smile.

“Sit on my face, Mia.”

I blink, still flat on my back. The only thing I move is my head, tilting to look at the ceiling instead of him.

I’ve never done that before. Would I even like it?

It seems like the kind of position that sounds hot in theory but turns into a coordination test with a side of thigh cramps. Or maybe that’s just sixty-nine?

I know if I stall much longer, he’ll start asking questions. I want to come, and I’m not about to let overthinking ruin that for me.

I crawl up the bed, trying to figure out the best way to do this, but he doesn’t give me the chance. He grabs my hips and guides me into place. My knees settle on either side of his head, my feet against his shoulders. I hover for a moment, unsure.

Something about the mix of power and vulnerability in this position, and the hunger in his eyes, turns me on more.

“Sit.”

He doesn’t wait for me to comply, just pulls me down. He groans when his mouth finds me, finally .

And holy shit.

My thighs start to tremble almost immediately. I brace one hand on the wall behind the bed, the other lost in his hair, anchoring myself.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. My breath comes in quick bursts, hips rolling without permission.

“Dom,” I breathe, but I don’t know what I’m trying to say.

He growls in response, the vibration making me jolt. He tightens his grip on my ass, urging me somehow closer.

My whole body tightens, then melts. Pleasure pulses through me, a sound I barely recognize slipping out. My hand slides from the wall as I bow forward, chest heaving, but he doesn’t let up.

“Dom.” This time it’s a plea, though I’m not sure what for.

“Give me another.”

I do.

He talks me through two more, to be exact, before I’m a boneless heap at his side.

“Still think I talk too much?”

I want to roll my eyes. But also kiss him. I only hum and let the aftershocks roll through me.

He’s been getting me off for… I don’t even know how long. He has to be more than a little uncomfortable by now.

I slide my hand down his side, attention snagging on the outline of his cock straining against his sweats.

He grabs hold of my biceps. “You know you don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Oh, thank fuck.”

He helps me strip off my top. His cock pulses, already leaking, as I lower myself between his legs. When my tongue meets his warm skin, he groans, head tipping back on the pillow.

I wrap my lips around the head and take him deeper, my hand curling around the base. I find a rhythm, steady and unhurried, and he swears under his breath. His muscles tense with the effort to keep still.

“Fuck, Mia. I’m not going to last.” He reaches down and finds my hand on his thigh, threading our fingers together. His grip borders on painful, but I like being anchored to him. Connected.

“That’s so good… You’re perfect… Doing so well,” he rambles.

I hollow my cheeks and suck, his praise making me clench. When I glance up at him, his eyes are locked on mine, wrecked and reverent.

That’s all it takes. He comes, and I swallow him down.

“Come here,” he rasps, tugging me up to him.

I crawl over his body, and he kisses me, cupping my face with both hands. I taste the mixture of us on his tongue.

He rolls so we’re side by side, facing each other. His thumb brushes along my cheek as we catch our breath.

The tenderness makes my skin hum, a little too much.

I turn away, onto my stomach, wrung out and too tired to care that I’m completely naked. I hug one of his pillows, burying my nose in the faint trace of his scent.

Logically, I know this bed is identical to mine three floors below. But it feels different. Better.

Dom kisses a slow path down my spine.

“I’m just going to rest my eyes for five minutes,” I mumble, melting into the mattress.

“You know you can stay, right?”

He gathers me against him, wrapping around me from behind. He’s warm and a little sweaty, but I don’t mind it.

I shake my head. “Just five minutes.”

He chuckles, his breath ruffling my hair across my cheek. “Okay, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Another soft laugh. “Why not?”

“I’m not your baby.”

His grin is practically audible. “Okay.”

It’s the last thing I hear before I do the thing I promised myself I wouldn’t—stay.