Page 59 of Hooking Up with the Hockey Player

In answer, I turn and wrap my arms around his neck, pushing up on my tiptoes to fuse my mouth to his. “Of course,” I murmur against his lips, giving his words back to him.

He backs me through the front door, kicking it closed behind him, then turns and presses me back against it, more frenzied and hungry than I’ve ever experienced. His hands are everywhere, his mouth hot against my skin as he nips and kisses his way down my neck before dropping to his knees in front of me. His fingers hook in the waistband of my linen pants, slipping them down over my hips and letting them drop to the floor, leaving me in the lacy cream panties I bought recently. Being with Troy has inspired me to spice up my lingerie drawer, but who will appreciate that now that he’s leaving?

I gulp air, pressing my head back against the door and squeezing my eyes tight against the tears prickling behind them. Don’t think about that right now, I scold myself. You wanted tonight to be just like all the others. Keep playing that game.

Except it’s not just like all the others, and we both know it, no matter how much we might try to pretend otherwise.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he breathes, his warm fingers tracing the edge of my panties before tugging them to the side and fastening his mouth to my center.

I let out a strangled sound of shocked pleasure, fingers desperately trying to clutch the smooth surface of the door, and I sag against it.

His hand cups my ass, the other guiding my leg over his shoulder, opening me more fully to the sensual pleasure of his mouth on my most sensitive places. I relax into the moment, my tense muscles softening as he laps at me like he’s in no hurry for this to be over. Then he slides one finger inside me, and I gasp. He sucks my clit into his mouth, ramping up the intensity, then a second finger joins the first, and I’m not even sure what sounds I’m making, only vaguely aware that I’m babbling, my breath coming in fast pants as he drives me over the edge, my entire being focused on his mouth on me, fingers inside me, and the shattering bliss of my orgasm.

He groans as I come, slowing but not stopping until I’m little more than a quivering mess, barely able to stay upright. Placing my leg carefully back on the floor, he stands, catching me in his arms and clutching me to his chest.

I let him hold me up, breathing in the scent of him, doing my best to embed the spicy scent of his cologne in my memory without wallowing in anticipated sadness. I want to stay present. To feel everything, experience everything, remember everything.

Lifting my head, I press up on my toes, and he meets my lips with his, tangy with my taste. I wrap my hands behind his neck, nearly clawing at him in my desperation to be as close to him as possible.

He makes a satisfied sound and palms my ass, hitching me up with a quick jerk. I giggle as I wrap my legs around his waist, still surprised at this move, though he’s done it more than once before. He carries me to my bed, slowly lowering me onto my back. Before stepping away, he pulls my panties off and tosses them over his shoulder, then starts stripping off his own clothes.

Sitting up, I dispose of my top and bra as well, setting my glasses carefully on the nightstand before scooting up and around so I can lean back against the headboard, reaching for him as he climbs onto the bed with me. “I need you,” I whisper. “Inside me.”

His eyes flare at my words, and he reaches for a condom, sheathing himself quickly. Crawling over me, he kisses me deeply before pulling back, his deep blue eyes holding mine as he lines himself up and sinks inside me.

When my eyes close at the feeling of him filling me, he lets out a soft grunt. “Don’t close your eyes,” he murmurs. “Not tonight. Don’t hide from me. Let me see you.”

The words send a thrill through me, though it’s more excitement than fear. But for someone like me who’s so used to hiding, the prospect of deliberately allowing myself to be seen is intimidating.

I do it, though. Open my eyes and meet his, and that’s when it hits me—I’m not the only one being vulnerable, allowing myself to be seen. Troy wants me to see him as much as he wants to see me. He doesn’t want to feel alone in this any more than I do.

He rocks into me, slow and steady, his gaze adding a layer of intensity I didn’t know was possible. It’s difficult to resist the urge to look away, if only for a second, but I manage it, gasping when he changes the angle, his thrust hitting the spot inside me that feels so good.

A smile ghosts across his lips. “Give me everything, Anna,” he whispers. “I want it all.”

He threads his fingers through mine, holding my hand as he continues dismantling me piece by piece, anchoring me here, and I never look away. I barely blink. Not even when I reach down with my free hand, circling my clit with my fingers as he picks up his pace. I know he’s getting close—I recognize the signs now after spending so many nights in a row together—and I know I need just a little bit more so I can come with him.

“Fuck. So hot.” His hips move faster, the shaking of the bed feeling like it’s going to shake us both apart completely. The muscles stand out in his neck and his eyes go hazy and unfocused as he comes with a shout, his hips losing their rhythm, but it’s exactly what I need. I pulse in time with him, finally breaking eye contact when he collapses on top of me. Pulling my hands free, I wrap my arms around him, my legs still bracketing his hips, needing to hold him close for as long as I’m allowed.

Because I know I’ll blink and this’ll all be nothing more than a memory.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Troy

After cleaning up, I find Anna curled under the blankets on her bed, looking smaller and frailer than normal. I know why. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist or a psychic to figure it out. And I can tell she’s fighting the sadness that’s tugging at her.

Finally, unable to bear it anymore, I have to say something. I can’t hold it in anymore, despite her request at dinner to treat this like every other night. I’ve thought about raising this idea more than once, but always put it off, not wanting to risk our growing connection. If I brought it up too soon, it might scare her off. Or at least that was my main fear. But now there’s no more time.

And what if she likes the idea? It could change everything.

“This doesn’t have to be the end.” Though my voice is quiet, the words seem to hit her like a gunshot.

She sits up, clutching the blanket to her chest with one hand, as though I didn’t have my hands and mouth covering every inch of her skin mere minutes ago. Slowly, she pulls herself around to face me fully, and I imagine she’s sitting cross-legged, though I can’t see her legs with the blanket covering them. Her brows pull together, her eyes squinting like she’s trying to see the catch in my words. “Are you not—” The words come out croaky, a little squeaky, and she stops to clear her throat. “Aren’t you leaving tomorrow?” There’s a deadly level of control in her voice, the kind of control a person only uses when they’re on the verge of shattering completely.

This is why she didn’t want to talk about tomorrow. She’s so close to falling to pieces, and she didn’t want me to witness it. Or she didn’t want to ruin tonight. Or maybe a little bit of both.

“I am,” I answer gravely, my arms crossing over my bare chest. I want to go sit on the bed with her, to tug the blankets away and wrap her in my arms, but I’m not convinced that’s the right move. She might just fall apart in my arms then. Right now she’s listening, and I want her to listen, because she might see that she doesn’t need to fall apart. That tonight doesn’t have to be devastating or final or however she’s built it up in her head.

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