Page 63 of Hat Trick

I glance up to see Marshall approaching. Dressed in faded jeans, a Blades hoodie, and a backward ball cap, he’s so damn good-looking it almost hurts. I point to my shoes, feeling a little pathetic when I call back, “Kate Spade clearly doesn’t know what it’s like to hike up a driveway in these babies. They aren’t ice-proof.”

His mouth quirks in a crooked grin. “Aren’t you glad you’ve got your own hockey player,then?”

Big hands land on my butt the moment he steps near, and the next thing I know, I’m being boosted into the air and then clutched tight to hischest.

“Oh!”

Cold air hits my bare girl parts, and this time my shout is a little more of a shrillshriek.

Oh MyGod.

So, so cold. Why did I agree to no panties? Because it iscold, really, really cold, and I can’t help but wonder if things can, you know, freeze down there? Like how guys always talk about their nuts hibernating in their stomachs and their dicks shriveling? Does the equivalent happen towomen?

Frozenvagina.

I can’t say that I recommendit.

“You okay?” Marshall peers down at me like he’s uncertain if I’m going to leap from his arms and throw myself back down his driveway. “You seem a little . . .” He presses his lips to my forehead like he’s checking mytemperature.

If I weren’t so worried about my vagina freezing, I’d stop to think about how sweet the gestureis.

He shifts my weight as we near the door, and my skirt rides up a littlehigher.

Naturally, he gets a handful of my butt and that’s when it hitshim.

“Gwen?”

“Yes, Marshall?” I bite down on my teeth to keep them fromchattering.

I watch his Adam’s apple slide down the length of his throat. “Are you wearing underwear rightnow?”

“Nope.”

“Gotcha.”

Bouncing me higher against his chest, he bolts for his front door, his feet thudding against the frozenconcrete.

“Oh my God, we’re going to fall!” I cry out, clutching his sweatshirt in a vicelike grip. “Slowdown!”

“Not a chance in hell,” he growls. “You’re notwearing—”

His weight teeters, which means thatmyweight teeters, and I have a vision of his knees buckling and us rolling back down the driveway in some R-rated version of Jack and Jill climbing thehill.

“Marshall,” Iwarn.

“Gwen,” he returns, stepping onto his front stoop and pushing open the door. He doesn’t set me down until he’s locked everythingup.

Then he carefully takes my purse and sets it to the side. With two big palms to my shoulders, he backs me up against the door. “Time to warm you up,honey.”

His fingers push up my skirt as he drops to his knees. With a gentle tug, he encourages me to lift my leg over his shoulder. I do, although I can’t help but announce, “Mydeal.”

“What deal?” He looks up at me through long, dark lashes. He leans forward, and then he covers my clit with hismouth.

Wowza.

It’s as good this time as it was in his movie theater. I thread my fingers through his hair, unable to stop from releasing a moan when he swirls his tongue in tight little circles that has me seeingstars.

I shed my coat, throwing it to the floor beside him. “My deal,” I repeat, trying for the life of me to remember what it is. With his mouth working me to the point of no return, I don’t even remember my own name. “It was . . .oh,yes, yes rightthere.” His thumb dips into my wet heat, then takes the place of his mouth when he sits back to watchme.

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