Page 147 of Gloves Off

God, this is fucking good. I should be furious that he knows exactly how to play me, that he’s just as skilled with my body as he is on the ice, but I don’t have the mental space to care.

He makes an impatient noise before I’m flat on my back, panties yanked down my legs and his thumb pressing against my clit. My hips lift—it’s too intense, too good, holy shit—and his mouthcatches the high, desperate sound I make before he’s kneeling again between my legs, pressing my knees farther apart to make room for him as his lips brush up my inner thighs. He’s doing these little biting scrapes in between soft, open-mouth kisses, drawing breathy noises from me. His hands slip beneath my backside, palming and squeezing me. My clit aches, desperate for attention again, but he denies me, taking his time.

This is different,a tiny voice whispers in my head. Alexei treats me like I’m something rare, something to be enjoyed and savored. Something to remember. A pinch of fear disperses through me, but I’m too turned on to care.

He’s almost at the crest of my thighs when hesitation tenses through my body. I jolt, sitting up, reaching to push him away. His hands come to my wrists, though, banding them together.

“Alexei.”

“Mmm.” He sounds drugged, like he’s not in his right mind. “Don’t interrupt, Hellfire. Busy.” He’s a fraction of an inch from my center. The alarm blares louder, every muscle going taut.

“Alexei, stop.”

At the panicked edge to my voice, he freezes, looking up at me. Eyes glazed but alert. “What?”

His hands loosen around my wrists as I pull them apart and press into his shoulder, pushing him away, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall.

“It’s okay.”

He stares at me.

“We don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” His tone and expression are confused. Irritated, even. Like I’m taking away his toy.

“I don’t.”

Heat rises to the surface of my skin. It’s an old bruise that never healed.I really don’t want to,Liam had said with a repulsed wince.

I haven’t done this since. Some guys have offered, and when Isay no, they shrug and we move on to other things. Things where I’m not open and exposed.

Alexei’s eyes narrow with competition and challenge, like he wants to fight me on this.

“Fine.” His searching expression falls away, and I almost sink in relief.

Instead of climbing on top of me, he gets up and prowls out of the room. I stare at the empty doorway, thoughts suspended in the air—what’s he doing? Heavy footsteps. A drawer opens. Is he in my room? A moment later, he strides back in, holding my vibrator with a slant to his mouth.

“I knew you’d have something like this in your bedside table.”

“What else am I supposed to do when I wake up in the middle of the night, turned on from sex dreams about Dr. Handsome?”

His jaw flexes, and I press my lips together so I don’t smile.

“I know you’re messing with me,” he walks over slowly, and my gaze drops to his erection distorting the front of his pants, “but you’re still going to pay for that.”

Thrills run through me, landing at my center. The worry of what we almost did evaporates as he settles on the bed beside me, propped on his elbow.

“Here’s the game, Georgia.”

My stomach dips at the way he says my name. Possessive and dominant. For a moment, I forget to hate it.

“You say please, and I give you more.”

Another shivering thrill. His dark eyes roam my body before our gazes meet.

“Why don’t you just make me come, like a good boy?”

He laughs. I’m a tiny guppy picking a fight with a shark.

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