Page 90 of Face Off
“Do you think it’s interesting that after our night in Chicago, we suddenly go on a win streak?” I ask softly.
“It is interesting,” he agrees. I dare myself to turn my chin so I can look at him, and he’s already staring at me. “I fuck you, then you score your first goal? Talk about coincidence.”
“Yeah. Coincidence.” I laugh, and my nipples pebble under my shirt. I lick my lips, and I swear his hand inches closer to my leg over the top of the sheets. “Do you think we should?—”
“Do it again?” Maverick finishes for me. “It could be considered research.”
“You’re into science now?”
“When it comes to your pussy, Red, I’m Bill-fucking-Nye.”
It’s silly to think that one night together changed the trajectory of our team.
There’s noactualcorrelation to his dick, my ability to score goals, and our win streak.
But I’m curious.
“Same rules apply,” I say. “You leave as soon as we’re finished, and this night never happened.”
“Any other demands?” he asks. He reaches out and tugs me toward him, his mouth nearly on mine. “I want to make sure I beat my satisfactory rating.”
“Faster this time.” I thread his silver chain through my fingers and run my thumb over the links. “And I’d like to wear some of your jewelry again.”
Maverick’s eyes flash bright with longing, and heat spreads across my skin.
“Maybe my next tattoo will be the wordmineon the back of my right hand.” His fingers dance up my neck and curl around my throat. “So you know who you belong to when you’re with me.”
“Show me,” I whisper. “Show me I’m yours for the night, Maverick.”
TWENTY-FIVE
EMMY
Maverick crasheshis mouth against mine with so much intensity, it’s like he’s afraid I’m going to take back what I said.
I’m not.
I want to be consumedby him.
This kiss is exactly like the first time. Rough. Hot and messy like we’re at war with each other, and I sink into the bite of his teeth and the tug on the ends of my hair. The scrape of his nails down my back and the smooth, easy way he moves me so I’m on top of him, one leg on either side of his.
I’ve missed this.
Nothim, but intimacy with someone else.
The ache of satisfaction when something feels so good, you want to scream about it. A hand other than your own and the fire that stirs inside you when you reach divine bliss.
I’ve always been a sexual woman, someone who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to voice it. I’ve had partners criticize my desires and shrug off the need for bedroom compatibility.
I’m a firm believer that a good sex life—one built on trust, honesty, and respect when you’re at your most vulnerable—is important. It tells you things about a person, and what I knowabout Maverick after just one time is that he can give me exactly what I want.
An hour where I can shut off my brain. A moment in time when I feel beautiful and powerful and on top of the fucking world.
I don’t have to be a professional athlete who smiles in front of cameras and busts her ass in the gym and on the ice. Who pushes herself to the brink of exhaustion again and again because it’s what’s expected of me.
I can be a mindless, boneless woman worthy of the highest pleasure.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask before I kiss the corner of his mouth. “Please tell me you have a condom.”
