Page 35 of Hooking Up with the Hockey Player

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Troy

Anna responds to my gentle encouragement, standing from her chair and moving in front of me. I spread my knees, making room for her, but she just stands in front of me for a second like she’s not sure what to do.

I pat my leg. “Sit. I liked having you on me at the cove.”

She glances over her shoulder at the deck, her lower lip caught between her teeth in her all but constant sign of nerves.

“They’re in for the night,” I reassure her. “Nick and Tina are giving us time to ourselves. They won’t come back down.”

She stops biting her lip, and it’s all plump and shiny from her mistreatment of it, and all I want in this moment is to kiss her.

I’ve been dying to get close to her again since we left the cove. This evening was the best and worst combination of fun and torture I’ve ever endured.

She’d been so relaxed with me in the cove, as comfortable as I’ve seen her. Letting me touch her, kiss her, hold her hand. Then when we got back, she stiffened up, retreating inside herself again with the addition of Nick and his family.

Fortunately, they struck the right balance of including her without being overbearing or smothering. And the kids helped deflect attention when needed, giving her time to relax and get comfortable again. I can’t help thinking the glass of wine helped too.

But now she’s nervous again. It’s like two steps forward, one step back every time the scenario changes with this woman.

What happened to make her so skittish? She mentioned an ex who sounds like an asshole. Was he the one who made her so she doesn’t trust herself or anyone else? Or was it someone before him?

Gingerly, she perches on my leg, holding herself stiffly. That’s nowhere near enough, but I don’t think she’ll relax without some encouragement and reassurance that yes, I want her here, in my lap, all her weight on me.

Hooking my arm around her, I pull her down so she’s nestled against my chest.

Her arms come up in a startle response, her eyes flying wide behind her glasses, and she lets out the cutest little squeak. But when I rumble my contentment, settling my arms around her and letting out a sigh, she relaxes. “There,” I murmur. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

She nods, letting out her own sigh.

We sit in silence, listening to the crackle of the fire, the water lapping against the shore below, and the few crickets chirping in the woods. Despite my earlier misgivings, I’m glad I invited her. And I’m really glad that she came.

It might not be a traditional second date, but nothing about our connection has been traditional so far, from our first meeting, to brunch as a first date, and now spending the evening around the fire with my best friend and his family.

And now I have Anna all to myself once again. I’d hoped for this but hadn’t necessarily expected it. Thank god for little kids and their bedtimes.

Dipping my head, I place a soft kiss just above the neck of Anna’s T-shirt, needing to taste the spot where the fire lights up her skin so beautifully.

She gasps, the sound almost loud in the quiet night, but tips her head, giving me more access. Feeling bold, I tug the shirt to the side, exposing more skin, running my lips along the tendon that connects shoulder to neck and placing a kiss just beneath her ear. She lets out a quiet moan, and I cup her jaw, turning her head so I can capture her lips. She sighs into my mouth, and I love how she responds to me.

She shifts in my lap, turning so the angle’s easier on both of us, and I help her around so her legs are over the arm of the chair, her arms looped around my neck, one hand gripping my T-shirt like it’s her only anchor in a storm.

And apparently, I’m the storm.

Satisfaction rolls through me at the thought that I affect her this much because the feeling is one-hundred-percent mutual. I’m just as swept away by her—her presence, her taste, her touch—and I don’t want to find the ground again.

Soon, it’s clear that this position isn’t good enough for either of us. By unspoken agreement, we break off the kiss, and she moves around so that she’s straddling me again. This time there’s no pretense of holding back as though she’s too shy to take what we both want. No, this time she presses right up against me, her hot center pressing against my low abdomen as she straddles my hips, and my cock pulses against her.

God, what I wouldn’t give for the opportunity to get inside her tonight.

I know that’s not going to happen—not here, and definitely not now—but a guy can dream, can’t he?

She seems to feel the same way, and when I grip her hips and move, she groans. Dear god, that’s almost enough to make me come apart at the seams. “I love the sounds you make,” I whisper against her lips, and she freezes, lifting her head.

I give her a quizzical look. “What? Did I say something wrong?” I have to replay what just happened in my head because did I say something offensive?

But her lips curve in a tiny smile, and she shakes her head. “No,” she whispers. “Sorry, I—” She shakes her head again, and since she seems lost for words, I decide going back to nonverbal communication is best. Pulling her close, I kiss her again, and she sinks into me like that’s exactly what she needs right now too.

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