Page 125 of Hockey Wife

Absolutely soaked between her legs.

Another gush greeted his hand as he stroked her slit.

Leaning over, he whispered in her ear. “Spread ’em, Georgia. Lemme see that pretty pink pussy.”

That earned him a sultry whimper and extra access as she moved her feet further apart.

“Good girl.”

“Please. Inside me. Need it. Need you.”

He released his cock, which was already weeping and desperate to get in the game. Pulling her hips forward, he nudged against her opening, bathed the head in her wetness, and plunged home.

The notion that she might be begging him to fuck her, to do this reckless act in the parking garage of her parents’ condo building, glanced across his brain for a second. Was he another crazy stepping stone in her rebellion or was this the real deal?

Because as he withdrew and thrust again, he recognized that this felt as real as it could get. For once, he didn’t mind the flood of feeling. He let it wash over him as every stroke yielded a moan from her and a corresponding groan from him. The two of them in sync.

On he went, making her his.

Losing his mind while losing his heart.

39

Georgia kept one eye on the browning turkey and the other on Banks, who was sitting at the kitchen counter reading and wearing … glasses. How had this man found new ways to ramp up the hotness levels? The Georgia of four months ago would not have paid the slightest attention to a guy with specs.

“So what do you think?”

He didn’t even look up. “Not finished yet. How’s that turkey coming along?”

“I think it’s ready for the taco seasoning.”

“Just half the packet with a little water. Don’t overdo it.”

She followed the instructions and gave the mixture a stir. Then she returned her nervous gaze to her husband—who had just placed the documents down and, boo-hoo, removed his glasses.

“Well?”

“It’s great, Georgia. Clear, precise, to the point.”

“But?”

He rubbed his beard. “You have the start-up funding, but nothing about how you’re going to raise money going forward. It needs to be self-sustaining.”

“My trust fund will make up most of the seed money and I’m hoping my parents will contribute as well.” The trust was at least five million and she planned to sign over most of it to the charity.

“Sure, but you’ll need an investment prospectus for the funds, a way to ensure they continue to compound interest and the fund stays healthy. And you need to have a plan to solicit donors to keep the coffers full.”

“I’m worried people won’t think it’s as worthy as other causes. That it’s kind of frivolous to think of the caregivers instead of the people who are truly suffering. If I keep the funding source to my trust, I won’t have to worry about it.”

He slid off the bar stool and reached behind her to turn off the pan. Then he lifted her like she weighed nothing and popped her on the counter.

“Dylan, your shoulder!”

He pressed his fingers to her waist and held her steady, while she parted her thighs and invited him in. So natural. “I want you to listen to me, Peaches, and listen good.”

She snatched a shaky breath. “Okay. Listening.”

“Why do you want to start this charity?”

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