Page 85 of In My Hockey Era
And then—hemoves.
One second, I’m pressed against the door, his body solid and warm against mine, and the next, I’m lifted clean off my feet.
I gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders as he carries me effortlessly through his condo.His grip on my thighs is firm, fingers pressing into bare skin where my dress has ridden up, and I feel his smirk against my neck.
“Not even gonna pretend to play it cool, huh?”I manage, trying for teasing, but my voice betrays me.It’sbreathless, barely there.
He chuckles, dark and knowing, his lips brushing just below my ear.“Not when it comes to you.”
My stomach flips, heat licking up my spine.
Wow is this really happening?
He strides through the apartment like he’s on a mission, the city skyline glowing through the massive windows, the air between usthickwith tension.
And then—we’re in his bedroom.
Bennett lowers me slowly, my back landing against his mattress, the plush comforter cool against my overheated skin.He hovers over me, bracing his hands on either side of my head, his gazehungry.
“You’re too beautiful,” he mutters, almost like he doesn’t mean to say it out loud.
My breath catches.
This cocky, golden-retriever of a man—this normally teasing man has gone all serious on me and I’m not sure what comes next.
I swallow hard, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that my dress is practically half-off my body.
He watches me carefully, his eyes searching.He’s teasing, but there’s something else underneath it—something deeper.
And for the first time tonight, I realize thatthis—whateverthisis—isn’t just some heated moment fueled by champagne and mutual attraction.
This isusfinally giving in.
Fully.
Completely.
And I’mterrified.
But when he leans down, pressing the softest, mostexcruciatingly tenderkiss against my lips, my fear melts away like ice in the heat.
I kiss him back, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him down,closer.
And just like that, Ifall.
The ride here from the gala was so tense, I wasn’t sure what Bennett was thinking about—now it’s clear.He had exactly one thing on his mind, and trust me I’m not complaining.
My pleasure seems to be the only thing he cares about.The guy has the patience of a saint.Methodically stripping me and kissing each new inch of skin he exposes, he moves with the precision and skill of an elite athlete.
Things escalate from zero to naked very fast and I’m breathless.
I work at the buttons at his throat, and soon, he manages to stop touching me long enough to strip.
And Bennett Wilder without clothes?
He’s like Michelangelo’s David.Hard as stone and just as beautiful.
He joins me on the bed and we kiss for what feels like eight centuries.
