Page 52 of The Rival (Looking to Score 2)
But all I did with that time was think about how much I wanted him. His scorching-hot kisses and his strong arms wrapped around me. His sweet gesture with the hot tub sealed the deal. I all but pounced on him that very same night.
To be honest, this summer has been everything I could have dreamed of and more. It feels cliché to admit, but I really did need to get lost in the Canadian wilderness in order to find myself. Leaving the cabin is going to be a lot harder than I ever could have anticipated when I took the job. Who would have known that I’d grow so attached to the place? Not to mention the man who came with it . . .
Alex was only gone for two nights, but being alone in the middle of the wilderness seemed to make the hours tick by more slowly. I’ve missed him, and while I can’t admit that with words without inviting all kinds of intrusive questions that I’m not ready to answer, I can show him.
Turning in his arms to face him, I’m surprised to see Alex is already awake, a sleepy smile on his full mouth. “Morning.” I press a kiss to his throat.
“Morning.”
“Been up long?”
“Not long,” he says, running his fingers through my hair. “Just a few minutes.”
I nestle into the broad expanse of his chest and let out a happy sigh. “Let’s stay in bed all day.”
Alex chuckles. “I’m good with that plan. But . . .”
I groan. “Why does there have to be a but?”
He kisses my forehead. “What about coffee?”
I concede the point, since it is a very valid one. “Okay. But can we drink it in bed?”
“Absolutely. Give me five minutes. Six, tops.”
He rises from the bed dressed only in his black boxer briefs and disappears into the hallway, while I lift on one elbow to watch his sexy retreat.
Deciding a quick trip to the bathroom is in order, I climb out of bed reluctantly. After getting my hair and morning breath under control, I slip under the heavy duvet again.
A minute later, Alex returns with two steaming mugs of coffee. “Here you go.”
He hands one of the mugs to me, and I take a small sip. It’s delicious.
It’s going to be hard going back to the real world. No one to make me coffee or cook for me. No muscular, hunky hockey player to share my bed.
Don’t think about it.
Not yet.
Alex settles in beside me, quietly sipping his coffee. I lean back against him, happy to use his shoulder as my pillow. I ask a few questions, and he fills me in on his trip to New York and his time spent with his sister and nephew.
I don’t want to admit it to him, but part of me has wondered if he’d just decide to stay in the States. Maybe getting back in the hockey scene would have made him homesick for hockey or his teammates. I even braced myself for a phone call saying he wasn’t coming back. Instead, we kept in touch, texting throughout the days about inconsequential things. Mostly, he teased me about my inability to feed myself. It was cute.
“We could make a bonfire tonight,” he says. “And maybe even go fishing. Catch ourselves something for dinner.”
I smile at the idea of that. “I’m game.”
When I set my coffee mug on the nightstand, a bottle of lubricant catches my attention. It’s a small bottle—half-full—unscented. It isn’t something we’ve used together.
I pick it up and lift one eyebrow in his direction. “You use this?”
Alex chuckles. “Uh, yeah, to jerk off.” He’s certainly not shy.
“Mmm, that’s a nice thought. Could I watch?”
He sets his coffee down next to mine and faces me on the bed. “You want to watch me?”
I nod, my eager gaze locked on his. “Why not?”
He touches his lips to mine, considering this, then strokes his fingers through my hair. “Your hand would feel better than mine. But yeah. I’ll show you how I like it . . . if you want.”
My heart rate accelerates. “Okay.” I breathe out the word as he kisses me again.
He’s already half-hard, the front of his boxers tented in the sexiest way. As we lie side by side, I brush my palm against him.
He deepens our kiss with a hoarse groan and tilts my face toward his. The weight of his hand rests against my throat, his thumb right beneath my chin.
Everything about this man is so perfect, and spending time with him these last few weeks has meant everything to me. But I can’t stop these intrusive thoughts about where we stand.
He was right—sex does complicate things. I have a sexy man, plans for a bonfire, and good food to look forward to later. Why can’t I just be happy and enjoy it? Why do I constantly have to be thinking about what’s next?
