His hand fists in my hair, my clip clattering to the ground.
“Is that a no?”
He takes my mouth in a bruising kiss, tongue sweeping past my open lips to taste. Another groan pours out of him and I swallow it down, pushing my own hand into his hair too, fisting the silky strands at his temples. He shudders.
This kiss isn’t smooth or practiced. It’s hungry and wet and desperate. Our teeth clack together and my lungs ache for air, but I don’t pull back. Neither does he.
My hands slip over his shoulders and down the firm lines of his chest. His muscles tense under my fingers and I dig my nails in just a touch, just enough to remind us both that this is real.Weare real.
Also real? The very large, very hard bulge pressing against my belly button. I can’t resist canting my hips to provide some friction between us, and Robbie breaks free from our kiss to suck in a sharp breath.
“I’m still waiting on that ‘yes’ or ‘no,’” I tease, as if my libido isn’t spiraling out of control and I’m not in danger of dripping down my thighs. I press them together just in case.
Robbie catches the movement, one corner of his mouth turning up as he drops his hands to bracket my hips.
“Vera, if there’s ever a time where I say no to you, I want you to beat me over the head with my hockey stick and run me down with the Stand’s Zamboni.”
“Little extreme,” I say, sliding my fingers along the neckline of his shirt.
“Not really.” He bunches the fabric at my hips. “Not when you consider the fact that you’ve starred in every one of my fantasies since I understood sex.”
I blush. Hard.
“Flatterer,” I slip my hand into the top of his shirt, feeling the line of his clavicle. There’s a fine layer of hair there now, different from the smooth skin of my memories.
“Truther.” He says.
My hand stills.
“It’s been sixteen years, Robbie. I won’t fault you for being with someone else.”
I don’t want details, but I can’t hold it against him. I’ve dated. Sorta. I’ve gone out with people. Sometimes for PR, sometimes for fun. Just because nothing was ever serious doesn’t mean it couldn’t have been. If I’d ever gotten Robbie out of my head,maybe one of them might’ve stood a chance long term. Maybe I would’ve welcomed someone to share myself with. It’s a moot point now, anyway. I don’t want to think about his other exes. Not when he’s here in front of me, hot under my hands.
“Vera,” he cups my jaw, tilting my head back until our eyes meet. “There was never anyone else.”
Robbie took his jacket off back at the reservoir, after we bared our souls and stuffed ourselves with bread and cheese. It makes it easy for him to reach over his head and yank off his shirt, dropping it at his feet. I’m only human. I can’t help the way my eyes zero in on the dark hair circling his navel and leading down to where his erection tents the front of his pants.
“Casual sex, whatever. It’s fine.”
I hate even thinking about him with anyone else, and I know that makes me a hypocrite because I may not have had any serious relationships, but casual sex? Yes. A girl can only use her battery-operated devices for so long before she gets lonely. But I still would rather dig out my eardrums with a rusty nail I found on skid row than think about him even looking at another woman.
“Vera.”
I lift my eyes to meet his and that’s when I see it.
I notice the color first. Pale purple and vibrant yellow. Even under the dark hair on his left pectoral, it gleams at me, drawing my gaze like true north draws the needle of a compass. There is a delicate, colorful, picture-perfect aster flower. Tattooed right over his heart.
My fingers trace up the green stem, loop around the curve of each petal. His muscles twitch and his chest expands as he sighs.
“There has never been anyone else.” His pulse thunders under my touch and mine races to match his. “I know you’ve watched me play.”
I loop my arms around the back of his neck and his forehead presses to mine.
“Only every day since fifth grade.” I want to kiss the tattoo. Sink my teeth intomyflower onmyhockey player.
Robbie smiles.
“I meant since I was drafted,”