Page 72 of Enticing the Enforcer
The words lodge in my throat, but I nod. “Yeah. I meant it.”
It shouldn’t be a big deal, the declaration that I’m into this girl, that I want her to be mine and for everyone to know it. But it feels big and when she says, “Stay with me,” softly, my heart hammers in my chest.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, stepping closer, helping her out of her clothes. Her torn shirt comes off first, then her leggings. I push her panties down her thighs and unhook her bra with careful hands, stripping her slowly, reverently, until she’s bare in front of me. She’s gorgeous–always is–but right now she looks fragile too, and all I want is to keep her safe.
Something soft flickers in her eyes before she steps into the shower, tilting her face into the spray. I strip fast, tugging off my clothes and letting them fall in a heap, then follow her in.
The heat hits us both, water sliding over her skin, washing away the last traces of the outside world. I take the soap and work it over her shoulders, her arms, down to her fingers, lingering there until they’re pink and warm again. She exhales, a little sigh that tells me she’s starting to come back.
I kiss her, gentle at first, just the press of my mouth against hers under the steady stream of water. She kisses me back, her lips parting, her hands fisting in my wet hair like she needs me closer. I press her against the tile, but carefully, keeping my body shielding hers. My hands skim her sides, her hips, the curve of her ass. Her skin is slick, soft, impossibly perfect under my palms.
“You feel so good,” she whispers, arching into me.
I slide a hand between us, stroking her slowly, until she’s ready for me to slide a finger inside, then another. She sets the pace, hips rocking into me, forehead pressed against my sternum. Every sound she makes goes straight to my chest, not just my cock, because it’s not about taking her–it’s about giving her back something steady when the whole world outside tried to strip it away.
“I want to come with you in me,” she whimpers, the orgasm close. I pull out, then align myself with her slippery pussy and sink into her, it’s slow, careful, like she’s porcelain in my arms.Her leg hooks around my hip, and I pound into her as she clings to my body.
The hot water sprays over us both, steam fogging up the room. I kiss her temple, her jaw, her mouth, murmuring against her lips, “I’ve got you. Do you understand that?”
She nods, eyes closed, and the orgasm lets loose, the muscles clenching around me, holding onto me until I grunt low and come, spilling inside. The tremors wracking through her body are no longer about fear. They’re from the release of knowing she’s not alone in all of this. She’s got me and fucking hell, that’s not even the best part of it.
I’ve got her.
“Don’t move.”Ingrid’s sitting in the middle of my bed with damp hair wearing my Wittmore Hockey hoodie and a pair of panties. I grab my phone and snap a picture. “Perfect.”
“Seriously?” she asks, looking down at the ratty hoodie. I got it in high school, when I was recruited and signed to play on the team. It’s soft and broken in and the band around the wrist is fraying, but Jesus Christ, she looks so fucking good in it.
“Angel, this encapsulates every teenage fantasy I’ve ever had.”
I place my hands on the bed and kiss her, sliding my tongue into her open mouth. Even though we just had sex, I’m hard again, unable to get enough of this woman. Her hand curls around my neck and I get the feeling she’s the same about me, and I’m thinking maybe we should just get naked again when her phone rings.
“Dammit,” I mutter, nipping at her bottom lip.
She grins and says, “That’s Madison. I’m going to have to take it.”
“I’ll grab some food downstairs,” I tell her, letting them have some privacy. There’s no doubt what she’s calling about. Everyone on her team has surely heard about the incident at the arena by now. Fuck, depending on social media, the whole world may know.
There’s not much to eat in the refrigerator, but I manage to cobble together a few sandwiches and a bag of unopened chips tucked in the back of the pantry. I’m halfway to the bedroom when I stop at the sound of Ingrid’s voice, sharp with frustration. Madison’s on speaker.
“You know how this looks?” Madison’s voice is cool, clipped, the tone of someone already spinning damage control. “He hit a member of the press.”
“He shoved him.” Ingrid fires back. I can hear the shake in her voice, anger and maybe a little fear. “While defending me from being attacked.”
Ignoring the specifics, Madison says, “You never should have been in that position in the first place.”
“I’m not living in a box anymore, Madison. I want to live my life.”
“That includes living it in real time, all over the internet, with zero privacy?” There’s a pause, then Madison adds, “Someone put this on blast online. Are you sure it wasn’t him?”
My grip tightens on the plate, jaw clenching.
“You’re kidding, right?” Ingrid’s laugh is brittle.
“It just seems like there are a lot of leaks lately. A lot of publicity. Much of it is about him–and more and more of it is about who he is, his upcoming career. It’s building hype.”
“I’m not even entertaining this,” Ingrid snaps. “It’s ridiculous. We were with one another the whole time.”
Fucking in the shower,I want to shout, letting Madison know exactly how close we were, but I swallow it back.
