Page 115 of Forbidden Hockey
“No, listen. We’re gonna fix this, okay?”
He’s downcast. His lips move as if they want to speak once, twice, and then he exhales, frustrated. Finally, he settles on something.
“I want to believe you, but I don’t think you get it.”
“Maybe not, but let’s deal with one thing at a time. You didn’t want to tell him about us before, but now you do. Let’s deal with that, and it might change things, okay?”
He takes a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“Better. Now for the marriage thing. If you don’t think I’m putting a ring on your ass, you don’t know a thing about me. I’ve already picked out a spot on my body where I plan to tattoo your name, and remember, I’m from a different generation than you. Marriage means something to me. Call me old-fashioned, but I want it in fucking stone, in every way we can declare it. That’s my stance.”
Mr. Charging Bull tucks a stray lock of his hockey hair—which he didn’t cut—behind his ear, biting his lip, being adorably fucking shy.
“Um, yeah. All of that. I want all of that. Now, can you do that thing? You know? That thing I like? Ineedit, Trav.”
I know what he wants. Using his chin, I guide his lips to mine, sucking, breathing him in, stealing his breath. I kiss him like I’ve been starving for him, like I can’t stop, and won’t. Until we hit that wall with him struggling beneath me. I let him get just enough oxygen, just enough to get by, and plunge again, letting desperation slip in, all my hungry desire. I might be the one kissing him, devouring him, but it’s me who comes undone. Taking his air derails me, changes me. I don’t stop, pushing him to his limit, taking more of him, until his knees almost buckle, until his nails dig into the back of my neck.
That’s when I release him—when he’s wrecked, when he needs me to hold him up.
He hangs on, panting, but not too hard, only taking slow sips as if he wants to remain breathless for as long as possible.
“Only you can do that to me,” he croaks. “Starve me enough to possess me.”
Dirk’s eyes glitter in our post-kiss stillness. That wasn’t just a kiss, it was destruction of the best kind. The kind that tears down and rebuilds.
“Better?”
“Yeah.” He smiles. “Whatever happens, it’s us, baby—that’s a future I can co-sign.”
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Dirk
Ihaven’t even had the chance to process that Robin’s getting out—what it means for Dash, for Stacey, for me—because of fucking Trav’s stupid plan and all the shit with Hunter. But the fucking cherry on top? He’s off to butt-fuck BC to hang out with his criminal pals. Probably where he’ll plan his Robin heist.
I told him I was coming with him. He said over his dead body and threatened to tell Hunter. He’s lucky that still works—for now—what’ll he do when it doesn’t?
He left me and Dash with the restaurant.
And speaking of Dash, Stacey dropped a fucking bomb on him.
“He told me he wishes he were the one marrying me.”
Fucking Stacey, waiting until the eleventh fucking hour. I wasn’t waiting around, tearing out my hair until he kissed him either. I made that shit happen. If there’s anything that can force someone from our dramatic crew into action, it’s jealousy. I knew a little jealousy would nudge Stacey in that direction. I wasright. It wasn’t enough to seal the deal, but now it’s a matter of when, not if.
Honestly, Dash and Stace are the least of my worries. Even all the bullshit in my life’s on hold. Why? Orgasm denial problems. Nothing hits harder than blue balls when your man is out of town, and he won’t let you come.
At least, that’s what I’m learning. You’d think I’d be used to this because of what his sadistic ass put me through during the season. Nope. The constant sex every chance we could when I got home lulled me into a rhythm.
He said he was gonna wait, too, though—he wasn’t gonna masturbate while he was gone, so he’d be hornier than a wild boar when he got back.
Fuck. I picture that every god damn day.
Some nights, I’ve slept at Trav’s apartment, in his bed, to be specific. I need his smell on me. I just … fall asleep easier. I have my excuse ready to go, that since I have to be in the kitchen so early anyway, it just makes sense for me to crash at his. But I haven’t had to use it yet. Casey and Sutter aren’t here, and Dash and Stacey are so consumed with each other, they haven’t noticed.
But the point is, it’s extra hard not to wrap my hand around my cock as I lie in his bed, dreaming about how hard he’ll pound my ass when he’s home. The feral look he’ll have in his eyes, the hunger. Mmmm. Why does he have to be away for so long?
