Page 44 of You’re The One (Saints Hockey #2)

FORTY

He peels the soaked fabric over my head, my back hitting the wall of his hotel room. I do the same, stripping him of his shirt. And in the next breath, our lips crash together.

Who needs air?

No one, I’m convinced. Not when you need someone like this. I finally understand what it means to drown in another person.

Because with him, I want to sink.

Dom’s back thuds against the opposite wall as I tug his shorts down. He kicks off a sneaker, then the other, and toes off his socks. My hands roam his chest, over his abs, greedy and clumsy.

He lifts me, and I wrap around him as he carries me into the suite. He props me on the back of the couch and yanks my sports bra off. It lands somewhere across the tile with a wet slap.

His mouth trails down my neck, clearing the rain still clinging to my skin. When he sucks my nipple into his mouth, he groans. He gives the other the same attention before picking me up again and bringing me into the bedroom.

Despite our frantic movements, he lays me on the bed like I’m something precious.

I part my thighs, and he lowers himself between them. His cock presses against me, but we’re separated by my wet shorts and his boxer briefs. Still, my whole body shivers at the contact.

I pull him down to kiss me. Will I ever get my fill of this? Of him? Us?

I already know the answer is no.

He grinds against me, and I can no longer restrain a moan. When he pulls back for a breath, I shove at his boxers, but they stick to his skin, wet and stubborn.

“Mia,” he pants, “baby, are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“We can wait.”

“I don’t want to wait, Dom. I want this. Want you .”

His arm trembles as it holds most of his weight off me. He drops lower, trailing his mouth down my body, leaving behind the heat of his tongue, the brush of his lips. He peels off my shorts. Breathing me in deep, he growls, and I realize his plan.

And although he’s maddeningly good at that, I need more.

“Dom.”

“Mmm.” His hum vibrates against me as he licks up my center, and my back arches.

“I want all of you… baby.” The word feels foreign on my tongue, but I know it means something to him. I want to give him that. I want to give him everything .

“I need to get you ready.”

He continues to tease me with his tongue.

“I’m ready.”

“Not yet.” He keeps going, licking from my entrance to my clit and back again, lingering, retreating, lingering again. Driving me absolutely out of my mind.

I writhe beneath him, so close to the edge I can barely breathe. Instinct takes over as I reach down, fingers dipping toward where I need more?—

Dom grabs my wrist. He brings my hand to his mouth, running my fingers across his lips before sucking on them, groaning at the taste of me.

“That’s mine.” He places my hand beneath my ass. “Keep it there. The other one, too.”

Before I can think, I’m shoving both arms beneath me, palms flat against my mattress.

“Mine,” he rasps.

“This cunt.” He kisses my core.

“Your sounds.”

“Every single orgasm.”

“ Mine .”

His pace turns desperate, and his mouth relentless. He sucks and licks like he’s a man starved. The pressure builds fast, curling through my core.

“Dom.” My hips lift off the bed despite my pinned hands. “I’m gonna?—”

He doesn’t stop. His eyes lock with mine, like he needs to see the exact moment I fall apart.

And I do.

I lose the battle to keep my hands in place. I clutch him closer as my back arches, breath vanishing. He makes a low sound, like he feels my pleasure as if it’s his own.

I whimper and tug gently on his hair. Only then does he pull back, lips glistening, pupils blown so wide his eyes look more black than blue.

His head dips as he slowly drags his mouth along my inner thigh.

“C’mere,” I breathe.

He crawls up my body, pausing to take me in before our lips meet. I moan at the taste of myself on his tongue. My fingers rake down his back.

“I need you. Now.”

“I’ve got you.” His voice is hoarse, raw.

He braces one hand beside my head, the other guiding himself to my entrance. He runs the head of his cock through my wetness, and when it brushes my clit, I suck in a breath.

Our eyes meet, and we share a small, charged smile. But then his expression shifts.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dropping his forehead to mine. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh,” is all I manage, along with the silent chorus in my head of: no, no, no, no, no.

“Wait,” I say so quickly that Dom pulls back to look at me. “I bet production left condoms around here somewhere. The suite dates are next week. Check your nightstand.”

Please, universe, just this once.

But Dom doesn’t move.

“You know I was never going to be with anyone but you, right?” he tells me. “I wasn’t even going to be with you until this.” He gestures between us.

“Until what ?”

“Us. Until we were together. In a real way. We are, right?” His brows pull together, like he’s suddenly unsure.

“Yes. You’re stuck with me,” I say, trying to quiet the part of me that is spinning with what this means for the future. Tomorrow. Next week. A year from now. But I shove the worry down, refusing to let it steal this from me.

“Good.” He kisses me once, then eases back to check a drawer. Nothing but a room service menu. He moves to the opposite stand, and when he turns around, a wide grin spreads across his face, a sleeve of condoms dangling from his hand. “Bingo.”

He collapses on me, and we both laugh, breathless, until we’re kissing again.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs against my mouth.

“Yes. Positive.”

“We can wait?—”

I cut him off, “No. I don’t want to wait.”

His eyes search mine, still checking for any sign of hesitation.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” I echo, just as soft.

He fumbles with the condom wrapper, tearing it open with shaking fingers, and rolls it on. I hold my breath, every part of me aching for what comes next.

Then he’s back between my thighs.

“Are you?—”

“If you ask me if I’m sure again,” I warn, “I might actually lose my mind. Just kiss me.”

He does. And I lose myself in it. We move together until I’m chanting his name, pleading with him.

The moment he presses into me, slow and steady, the air leaves my lungs in a rush.

“Are you all right? Am I hurting you?”

“No,” I lie.

Because it does sting. More than I expected. There’s so much pressure, and my body doesn’t quite know what to do with it. I try to keep my face neutral, in an attempt not to give anything away. If he sees it, it’ll ruin everything.

He’s gotten too good at reading me. I don’t want him to read this. Just this once, I want to feel normal.

I kiss along his jaw, down the side of his neck, using the movement to hide my face.

I want him to see the confident, capable version of me, not the one filled to the brim with what-ifs. I want this to be about us, not everything I did or didn’t do before him.

I will my body to relax and am rewarded when he shifts, grinding his hips against mine. A flicker of pleasure breaks through the discomfort. Enough to make me moan.

He lets out a string of words I don’t understand, something low and reverent. “Cazzo. Sei così stretta, tesoro. Mi avvolgi splendidamente. Così perfetta. Fatta per me.”

His pace remains steady. I feel every glide of his cock. Now that the sting has faded, it feels good—better than good—but I’m not sure I can come like this.

As if reading my mind, he shifts, bracing himself on one arm while the other slips between us, fingers circling my clit. I’m transfixed by the sight of his hand moving over me, of him moving inside me. I’m also maybe trying not to meet his eyes.

“Mia,” he rasps, “look at me.”

And when I do, I see everything I feel reflected back at me. Affection, awe… maybe even love?

A lump rises in my throat. I don’t know why he’s making me so emotional. Maybe because I don’t want to lose this. Because I want to remember it. For it to last.

“I know,” he whispers, like he sees it all.

I kiss him, because that feels safer than letting any of my thoughts slip out.

He folds over me, deepening the kiss, wrapping me tightly in his arms. This new angle lets his pelvis grind against mine, his pubic bone brushing my clit with every slow thrust.

We’re as close as two people can get. Sharing air, but so much more than that.

This feels less like sex and more like… making love.

“Can you come for me, baby?” he murmurs against my mouth.

“I don’t know.”

“You can.”

Thrust.

“I know you can.”

Thrust.

“Clench for me.”

Grind.

“Fuck, Dom,” I moan as he lets out a rough sound. “It feels…”

“I know it does,” he finishes. “You’re so good for me.”

He keeps moving, coaxing me closer, until I’m trembling on the edge. One that feels dangerous to fall from.

He slips his hand between us again, circling my clit in tight, quick strokes.

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

And just like that, my body obeys, breaking apart around him. I cling to him, gasping, as the tremors roll through me.

His pace falters, then stills as he buries himself deep and groans my name as he comes.

All I can hear is our ragged breathing. He stays there, face buried in my neck, while we slowly come back to ourselves.

Eventually he rolls away to take care of the condom. Then he pulls me close until we’re face to face on our sides. Neither of us speaks right away.

My body feels just as raw as the thoughts racing through my mind.

He breaks the silence. “It’s never been like that.”

“I’ve never done that before,” slips out.

His brows pinch. “Made love?”

“Any of it,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

He jerks up onto one elbow, eyes scanning my face. “What do you mean?”

I motion vaguely between us. “That.”

“I’m gonna need you to say it clearly, baby,” he says gently. “Because maybe I’m being dumb here.”

“I’m… I was a virgin.”