Page 58 of The Pucker and the Princess
“Nah. He actually didn’t say anything. Sometimes his silence—and the disappointment it communicates—is as effective as words. And Nick told us all to get our heads out of our asses and play like this isn’t the first time we’ve ever laced up our skates and touched a hockey stick.”
She cackles. “Seriously?”
I shrug. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“Well,” she shakes her head, grinning, “it seems like it worked.”
“Sometimes simple is the most effective.”
Fucking finally, I think as I exit the freeway, grateful that we’re almost back to my place. The change from freeway to surface streets has some kind of effect on Marissa, too, because she lapses back into silence, her expression serious once more.
“I can take you back to your car,” I offer quietly as we wait at a stoplight. I’m going the wrong direction for that, but it’d be easy enough to circle the block and head toward the arena if that’s what she wants.
She gives me a smile, squeezing my hand again. “No. Let’s go home.”
I think those might be the most glorious words in the English language. While she might just mean our building is home, I like the idea of her calling my place home.
Not that I’m going to ask her to move in or anything. But as a future idea, it doesn’t feel stifling. Or like I’d be trapped. I like the idea of having her in my space, though, as often as she wants.
I always assumed that I’d be really on edge with the next woman I dated, looking for red flags or signs she was going to try to move in and take over my life. But I’m not worried about any of that with Marissa. I think because we spent so long as just friends. I’ve had her over to my place plenty of times, and I never felt like she disapproved or wanted to change me or my space. She even likes my truck, despite the fact that I know as well as she does that it’s nothing fancy, that her car is far nicer, and that I could easily afford an upgrade. I’m attached to my truck, and that’s good enough for her.
When we get to our building, I park and climb out, heading around to Marissa’s side to open her door, but of course she doesn’t wait for me to do that. After she closes her door, she stands there and looks at me for a second. I lock the car with the key fob, then hold out my hand to her. A smile breaks out on her face, and she puts her hand in mine, threading our fingers together as we walk to the door.
We stay that way, hand-in-hand, until we’re on the elevator, and then I pull her close, my arm around her back and resting on her opposite hip. She leans into me, and it’s the best I’ve felt in … maybe my whole life.
Never before have I experienced so much fear and anticipation about anyone. The closest I can think of is when I was looking to get drafted into the juniors and then again into the pros. Still, that wasn’t nearly as much of a relief as this.
Cocky little shit that I was, it didn’t occur to me that I wouldn’t get drafted either time, it was more a matter of which team would I end up with.
This, with Marissa? I had no idea if or how it would work out. And the fact that she’s here, leaning against me, heading up to my condo, is more than I dared hope for.
Thebestscenario I could come up with was a return to what we had before. I figured it’d take us a while to get there—especially when she wasn’t acting at all like her usual self—and would involve at least one really unpleasant and awkward conversation.
I didn’t dare to hope that she’d want more than that.
Our silence on the way to my door feels charged, full of unspoken desires and hopes and expectations. Once we’re inside, she reaches for me, and I pull her to me, my mouth sealing over hers once more, my arm wrapping behind her back and pulling her body flush against mine.
I groan, unable to help myself, gratified when she makes a throaty sound of pleasure too.
When she moaned in the car? I almost came in my pants. That sound coming from her is enough to undo me completely.
I’d been rock hard for a while, but it had finally subsided to a semi on the drive here, but now that she’s pressed against me, her hands searching for purchase on my back and shoulder? I’m fully hard again in an instant.
She opens for me, her tongue tangling with mine, and I feel myself falling for her more and more each second.
This kind of connection is what I’ve always wanted, always hoped for, always dreamed of.
I’m not sure why I couldn’t manage to find it before, but I’m so glad that Marissa moved into my building and I’m finding it now.
I want to touch her everywhere, and so I keep alternating between hands on her hips, her ass, her back, her head, her jaw, her shoulders, and around and around until she breaks away with a laugh.
“It’s okay, Dozer,” she murmurs, drawing me toward the couch. “We don’t have to rush. I don’t have to run away at midnight.”
“Don’t run away. Ever.”
She stops in the middle of my living room, looking me in the eyes. “I won’t.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
