Page 110 of Home Ice

He kisses the base of each finger and then holds both of my hands down as he leans over the console. My skin erupts in goosebumps as he whispers into the crook of my neck, "Just like this." He brushes his lips against my skin. Nerves that were already heated spark and sizzle at the touch. His kisses follow the path of his finger in reverse until they stop at my mouth. "Like this."

My lips part just enough for his tongue to slip through, and a moan moves from my mouth into his. I grip his hands even tighter and pull him closer to me. Close enough that his heat invades my chest. "Maybe this would be better at home?" I can barely pull my lips away from his to ask the question.

"Home?" He arches his back to create a little space between us. I involuntarily try to pull him close again, but he doesn't budge.

"Yeah, home." I used to scoff at the idea a person could feel like home, but I understand it now.

"Aren't you the one who wanted to have sex in the car just fifteen minutes ago?" Brant asks.

"And aren't you the one who told me you wanted to do it right?"

His eyes flare, and the side of his mouth curves up. "Damn right, I do. I am going to fuck my girl the way she deserves, and there's not going to be a single doubt left in her gorgeous and smart and funny head about just where she fits into my life once we're done."

Those doubts are already gone, but I don't say a word as his fingers slip from mine. I let my head fall back against the headrest and wait for the sound of the engine starting. Instead, something brushes against the top of my thigh. I gasp and look down. He slides a single finger over my leggings, starting at my knee and working higher. "Brant? This isn't home." His focus stays on the tip of his finger as he moves it even higher. He snakes it from left to right. Inside and out. And a million tiny pinpricks radiate out from that touch as he comes closer and closer. "Brant?" I'm not sure if I'm asking him to stop and begging him to keep going.

"I know, baby. I fucking know."

I spread my legs for him and whimper as he traces the finger down my center and then back up. The way he brushes against my clit both times makes me wonder if he has some superpower that lets him know exactly where it is, even through the layers. "This is good," I say in what might be the understatement of my life.

"This is so good." He moves his finger in a circle as I roll my hips. Searching. Until I gasp. "Right there?" he says. He puts more pressure on the swollen and sensitive spot as he draws small tight circles around it. The muscles of my core are already trembling. "So fucking good. Now let's go."

I hear the engine start and feel my body rock forward as the car backs up. I look up and try to see what's happening, but his finger between my thighs makes it impossible to focus on anything else. "What are you…" It's just one word, but it will have to do.

"It's only fair that I do this to you."

I try to say his name, or at least I think that's what I try to say. Just as I start to form the sound, he shifts his hand and a fresh wave of electricity spreads through me.

"I want you to beg me to let you come."

"Please," I whimper, just seconds later as we pull into his garage.

He snorts. "I thought you'd make me work a little harder than that." My pride wants me to, but fuck my pride. I just want him. "Let's go inside first. I don't think the neighbors will want to see and hear all the things I'm going to do to you tonight."

"Then close the garage door so they can't."

He pulls his hand from between my legs. I grab at it, but he yanks it from my grasp with a wink. A very cruel wink. I reach for him. My hand just brushes his thigh before he turns away and steps out of the car. "Inside," he says. "I'll make it up to you inside." His look makes a lot of promises that he'd better be willing to keep.

Even though he was only a few seconds ahead of me, there's no sign of him when I trail my fingers over the cool counter as I walk through the kitchen and around into the living room. My body is going to draw in on itself if I don't have him soon. Dining room? My heart skips a beat as I remember that interrupted night. Maybe he wants to finish the job. But when I peek in there, he's nowhere to be found.

"This is very not funny," I call out, but there's no response. With a groan, I head up the stairs to the bedroom. And finally, there he is. Naked and lying spread on top of the blanket. How did he have time to get up here and undress so quickly? I try to hang on to my annoyance, but it's impossible at the sight of him. His skin drawn taut over more muscle than any person should ever have. My eyes trace the lines leading down his chest and abs, down to the erection that is half-formed and already massive. And did I mention just how spread he is? There are very few people who can spread the same way a goalie can.

"Were you looking for me? You should have said something."

I fold my arms over my chest, determined that I'm going to make him work for everything now. "You are an asshole."

"We can discuss all the holes you'd like as soon as you join me." He holds out a hand, but I don't budge. I don't care that my body is calling my mind a traitor and that my feet are trying to stage a mutiny. I hold firm. "Do I need to come and get you?" he asks.

I try to look as uninterested as possible, which is not very uninterested since my entire body is humming at the thought of lying next to him. Almost before I can think, he's out of the bed and crossing the room. I barely have time to yelp before he hefts me up and throws me over his shoulder.

"I'm okay with playing hard to get, but fuck, if I don't feel your pussy clench tight around my dick soon, I'm going to have a stroke or a heart attack or probably both."

"And giving me one is fine?" I growl as I slap the top of his back. I shouldn't be as turned on as I am by the satisfyingly firm sound it makes. "Why does a person even need this many muscles?"

"For abducting women who stand on the other side of the room, tormenting them." He sets me softly on the bed, and I hook my legs around him, hoping to pull him down on top of me, but I might as well pull on the wall. "Now, I'm going to use them for tearing these leggings off."

I let my head fall to the mattress as he slides his hands up my legs. His thumbs press into my inner thighs as they move up, and he kneads the air from my lungs. All I can do is stare at the ceiling above us. Funny, I don't remember the swirls of sparks moving through it before. His hands hesitate for just a second at my waistband before his fingers hook around it. Then it tightens across me as he stretches the waistband far to the side. "What are you doing?" I put one hand over his to stop him.

"Trying to tear them. How the hell do people do this?"

---