Page 135 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

The gray shorts not only don’t disguise his interest level, they positively enhance it. But before I can take in the vision in all its glory, he lunges at me.

With a cry I land on my back, with him on top.

His mouth goes immediately to the extra sensitive spot right where my neck meets my shoulder—the spot he knows drives me wild.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you all day.” His words come out in eager breaths.

The touch of his lips, the stroke of his tongue, the tickle of his breath, send a shiver of pleasure through me so powerful that I’m instantly wet.

“Watching you in your element like that is always such a fucking turn-on,” he says, his hands finding their way under me, up inside my sweater and straight to my bra clasp.

“The way I organize the kids and the old folks does it for you?”

“You have no fucking idea.” And my bra is unsnapped, his hands roving back around the front, his mouth on my ear now. “They have no idea you’re even organizing them. You’re so goddamn good at it.”

He runs his tongue around the outer edge of my ear from top to bottom, then sucks my lobe into his mouth and, oh, the goose bumps that race down my side.

But I kind of know what he means. I’ve watched him play a few times now. Even been to the stadium in New York City twice. And seeing him out there, doing his thing on the ice, obviously brilliant at it, and knowing he’s mine is the sexiest thing imaginable. The crowd went wild when he scored, and I just wanted to shout and scream, “He’s mine! I get to go home with him tonight!”

Not quite the same as wrangling a bunch of kids to keep them from stealing each other’s eggs or encouraging the Senior Central folks into helping to keep an eye on them, but I guess having a skill is a turn-on no matter what that skill is.

I pull my knees up to his waist and hook my legs around him, rocking my center to meet his hardness, his grinding hitting me in exactly the right body-tingling spot.

“Seeing you in the bunny suit was damn hot too,” I say, pushing my fingers into his hair and lifting up his face so I can look into those passionate green eyes.

His hands find my breasts, and my lungs release a long, loud exhale.

“Christ, I love the look of pleasure on your face.” There’s a deep lusty growl to his voice.

Before I’ve opened my eyes, his mouth is on mine, our lips immediately parting, tongues searching as my hands reach for the drawstring of his shorts.

“I want you right now,” I breathe into his mouth.

“Fuck, I want you too, Bugs.”

He breaks away just enough to pull my sweater over my headand free my bra.

When my hands slip into his shorts and find that hard, silky flesh, his eyes roll back on a long, deep groan.

Watching his face turns me on as much as feeling him thrust into my hands. My core throbs knowing he’ll be thrusting there very soon.

The yearning, the desire, the sheer wanton hunger is all-consuming.

“I can’t wait.” I roll us over so I’m straddling him.

He pulls me down, my breasts hovering over his face. Taking one nipple in his mouth he thumbs the other, all the while groaning as he thrusts into my hands.

My whole body is tight with need—my heart pounding, pulse racing, skin prickling with life.

Gabe’s taught me to stand up for everything I want, to go for it and not give a damn what anyone else thinks, and that applies in the bedroom too.

“Right fucking now.” I roll off him and whip off my jeans and underwear.

“You needy little bunny,” he says with that irresistible twinkle in his eyes, while making swift work of his clothes till he’s sitting there looking at me, giant erection bobbing against his stomach.

“Just one quick taste,” he says, eyes fixed firmly on his target, “then you can do whatever you like.”

“Deal.” I lie back, arms high over my head. “Have your way.”

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