Page 51 of O Goalie Night
Wait, is that a weird post-orgasm thought?
Regardless of the answer to that question, my feelings remain the same. After the most intense climax of my life, my first impulse is to buy Foster James a fruit basket. Or maybe a house plant.
I’ve had men go down on me before, it always felt like an obligation on their part. With Foster, it felt like there was nothing else he’d rather be doing.
“Hey.” Foster cups my cheek, gently guiding my gaze to meet his. Still kneeling in front of me, he looks me over, quietly assessing me. “You okay?”
I’m great. Never better. Just mentally shopping for a “thank you” present to give you for making me come so hard.
“Of course,” I insist. My heart rate has returned to a regular rhythm and my body is cooling down rapidly. Which is fine except that my skin is damp with perspiration and, well, I’m almost completely naked. I start to shiver and I can’t stop.
“Are you cold?” Foster doesn’t wait for me to answer. He finds his long sleeve shirt on the floor and hands it to me. “Put this on.”
“That’s not necessary,” I argue, pulling it on because I am in fact freezing. I’m not swimming in the shirt; I’m drowning in it.
Way to be sexy, Beth.
“Come on,” he says, scooping me up into his arms and starting down the hall.
Wait, what? I don’t want tonight, for whatever this is, to be over yet. The thought of Foster tucking me in like I’m a little one who’s stayed up back their bedtime is humiliating and I’m about to protest, but he walks right by my room and into his.
I’ve gotten glimpses of his bedroom before while I walked by it, but I’ve never actually been inside. A king-sized bed, neatly made with crisp, charcoal-grey sheets and a heavy, navy-blue duvet, sits in the centre of the room. A pair of sleek, black nightstands flank the bed, each holding a minimalist lamp with warm, soft lighting. The walls are painted a deep slate grey, adding to the room’s simple decor.
It’s orderly and no-nonsense. In other words, it’s Foster.
He pulls the comforter back and sets me down in the middle of the bed, climbing in after me and pulling the blanket over both of us. Gathering me against his bare chest, I snuggle against him, basking not only in his warmth but the mere feel of him.
His body is the definition of firm, yet his skin is so soft. I run my fingers over him, revelling in his reactions to my touch. They’re subtle; the slight tensing of muscleor faint hitch in his breath but they’re there. Part of me still can’t believe that this is real. That I’m the one doing this to him.
“Better?” he asks as his hand slips inside my shirt to stroke my bare back and I almost purr.
The best.
“Much.”
I continue to touch him because I need to. From the moment his lips touched mine, I’ve been all sensation and I can’t seem to get enough.
When my hand slips under the waistband of the jeans he’s still wearing, he groans against the top of my head.
“I think you should take these off,” I say as I unbutton them and start on the zipper.
“Do you?” He chuckles, but it’s strained. I think he’s enjoying my teasing, but it’s torture all the same.
“Absolutely,” I press a soft kiss to his abdomen as I move my hands lower. “Circulation is very important when you sleep so loose clothing is better.” Or none at all.
His lips quirk into a lopsided smile. “Is that what we’re going to do, Beth? Sleep?”
“Eventually.”
Before I can go further, he gently tugs my ponytail, pulling my face back to his. His kiss is deeper than before. Slower and yet, somehow, more urgent. His mouth moves on mine until I’m in some sort of a trance, unable to remember what I was attempting to do in the first place.
His hands push the shirt he draped me in above my waist before pausing. “Warm enough to take this off?”
My body is an inferno and this man is the source of the fire. I nod and he strips the shirt off of me in one swift motion, tossing it to the floor. The cute lacy bra I orderedonline is the next to go, leaving me naked and trembling with anticipation.
But he makes me wait as he looks me over. He doesn’t lay a finger or any other body part on me, much to my dismay.
And I let him look, not embarrassed or self-conscious about my nakedness. He made his feelings about how he sees me very clear on the couch.
