Page 12 of Pucking Never

When he doesn’t respond, I turn my gaze back to him to see if I can tell what he’s thinking by his expression. I expect frustration or indignation.

Instead, he meets my eyes and gives me a slow grin. I blink, stunned. When he slides closer to me on the bench, I’m too bewildered to move. He leans down until his lips are just inches from mine.

“I’m going to change your mind,” he murmurs. “I’m going to prove to you that not all hockey players are the same and that our week together was more than just a fling. Tell me you didn’t forget, Grace, about that first night on the beach? When I licked you until you were dripping and then your sweet pussy wrapped around my cock and squeezed me like it never wanted to let me go.”

My heart starts racing as I stare at him, his words sending a shiver up my spine. My cheeks flush as I feel myself growing slick between my legs. I force myself not to press my thighs together and give away just how hot he’s making me.

But my mind won’t let me enjoy the moment, not understanding why he would still want me. Instead, I quickly grow suspicious that this is just a ploy.

He’s playing me right now. Manipulating me to get what he wants. Anger rushes through me, pushing away my surprise and snapping me out of my daze. I shove to my feet and step back, putting distance between us.

“Nice try,” I snap. “I’m not some sort of challenge for you to try and win, Jensen. What happened between us in Miami was great, but nothing else is going to happen between us. Ever.”

Though my words are strong and firm, inside, my stomach is twisting and my thoughts are racing as I pray I can actually follow through with them.

I stand from the bench to face Grace, annoyed that she’s so damn determined to dismiss the obvious attraction between us. Does she really think I’m like those assholes she knew in high school? That hurts and pisses me off in equal measure. She’s staring up at me with that defiant glint in her eye again and I flex my fingers at my sides, fighting the urge to grab her and kiss the ever-living shit out of her.

“You can’t seriously think what happened between us was just a fling,” I insist. “Grace, come on! We meet again after all this time by pure chance? You don’t think there’s a little bit of fate at play here?”

Personally, I’m not the kind of guy who usually gives much credence to things like fate or destiny, but seeing her again and finding out she’s Carson’s sister can’t be just a coincidence. It’s too crazy and I’m not going to just pretend it isn’t.

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Oh, come on, Jensen. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” I growl. “Grace, I have thought about you nearly every day since Miami. That week with you left more of an impact on me than any other experience I’ve ever had with a woman. I’ve never gotten over you.”

Her mouth pops open in surprise, her eyes widening at my admission. I can't tell if she's shocked or horrified, but it’s probably a bit of both. I hadn’t really meant to confess all that to her at this moment in time, but I’m also not willing to let her just walk away from this because she’s got it in her mind that I’m going to treat her like those stupid boys she grew up with.

"That's… Jensen, you're just playing with me," she stammers. "You don't really mean that."

"I've never meant anything more," I assure her, moving closer.

She takes a step back, shaking her head. “I’m not an idiot, Jensen.”

She sounds nervous. Almost afraid. Of me? No, no, that’s not it. Maybe she’s afraid of what she’s feeling right now. If that’s the case, I need to convince her to let go of that fear.

“No,” I reply, closing the distance between us. “You’re not an idiot.”

She puts her hands up and presses them against my chest, but she doesn’t push me away.

“Miami was a fantasy,” she murmurs, gazing up at me with wide eyes. “This is the real world, Jensen. We wouldn’t work in the real world.”

Frustrated, I decide I’m done with words. I take hold of her shoulders and lean down to press my lips against hers in a firm, insistent kiss. I need to remind her just how good we are together and how strong our chemistry really is.

She gasps and goes rigid for a moment, but then she’s melting into me, sliding her hands up my chest to loop around my neck. Moving my hands to her waist, I back her up to the car and set her up on the hood, never breaking our kiss. I step between her legs while sweeping my tongue into her mouth, needing to claim as much of her as I possibly can.

“Jensen,” she gasps against my lips. “This… we shouldn’t…”

“Yes, we should,” I tell her as I move to undo the button and zipper of her pants. “You can’t tell me you didn’t get wet thinking about our time together in Miami. I know you did. Tell me to stop or let me remind you just how good we are.”

She doesn’t stop me as I get her pants loose and I slip my hand inside, past her panties, and touch her slick folds between her legs.

She lets out a hiss of breath and her head falls back. I run my lips along her exposed throat, licking and nibbling as my fingers work her wet folds. She lets out a series of moans and whimpers as she begins to undulate against my hand. She’s just as luscious and eager as she was when we were together in Miami. How many men has she been with since?

I banish the unwelcome thought, not wanting to know. The thought of someone else touching her like this, giving her this pleasure… infuriates me. I focus on her and her reactions to my touch. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted, and her eyes closed.

She grips my shoulders, nails punching through the thin fabric of my shirt.

"Jensen," she whispers hoarsely. It's a plea, an accusation, and a sigh all rolled into one.

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