Page 55 of In My Hockey Era
Her breath catches, just barely, and that’s it.That’s the moment I snap.
I close the distance in a heartbeat, backing her against the wall, caging her in without even touching her—yet.
Her chin tilts up, her lips parting slightly, and my pulse hammers so hard I can hear it.Feel it in my throat, in my fingertips itching to close the final gap.
“Tell me to stop,” I murmur, my breath ghosting against her cheek, my hands braced on either side of her head.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she fists the front of my shirt, yanking me the last inch forward, and then my mouth is on hers, and—damn.
It’s fire.
It’s a full-body, mind-numbing, holy-shit-this-is-happening kind of kiss.
Her lips are soft, but the way she kisses me?Not soft at all.It’s demanding, reckless, like she’s wanted this just as badly as I have, and now we’re both making up for lost time.
I press her harder against the wall, one hand cupping her jaw, the other finding her waist, fingers digging in like I need to hold on to something.
She gasps against my mouth, and I take full advantage, deepening the kiss, pouring every ounce of hunger into it, dragging my teeth along her bottom lip just to hear her sharp inhale.
I want more.So much more.
My hands slide down, skimming over the soft fabric of my jersey, down lower until I find the soft curves of her ass.It’s perfect.I could lose my damn mind over that alone.
“Quinn,” I rasp between kisses, my forehead pressing against hers, my breath heavy.“You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
She looks up at me, eyes dark, lips kiss-bruised, and smirks.
“Oh, I think I do,” she murmurs, fingers sliding into my hair, tugging slightly, and—damn—my restraint is hanging by a thread.
I groan, head tipping back slightly before I bring my gaze back to hers.“Keep pushing me and see what happens.”
She licks her lips, deliberately slow, eyes flicking to my mouth.“Maybe I want to see.”
I might actually die in this room tonight.
22
OVERTIME
Lucy
I’m drowning in him.
The heat of his body, the press of his mouth, the way his big, rough hands grip me like he’s barely holding on to whatever control he has left.They slide down to my ass and squeeze.
Bennett Wilder kisses like he plays—intense, reckless, and all-in.And I am absolutely, completely wrecked.
He drags his mouth down my jaw, his breath hot against my skin, and my knees nearly give out.
“Damn, Lucy,” he rasps, his hands sliding up to grip my hips, pressing me closer, his fingers tightening when I deliberately shift against him.
Oh.Oh.
I can feel him, thick and heavy against my hip, and a thrill shoots through me so fast my pulse stumbles.
He’s big.
