Page 92 of Blindside Sinner

“I’m pretty sure that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

I like looking at her when she doesn’t hate me, when she doesn’t mind me resting my hand on her bare stomach. It would be so easy to slide my pinky down, into the elastic band around the top of those barely-there panties. And it’s tempting. Almost as tempting as sliding my hand up, cupping one of her beautiful breasts.

Keeping it still is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

“You played a great game tonight,” she murmurs.

“I was showing off. And the puck fell the right way.”

“It was a good game. You have talent, Beck. You shouldn’t downplay it.”

“I think we both know I don’t downplay much.” I laugh. “I’m trying humility for a change. Seeing how it feels.”

“And?” She smiles like she already knows the answer.

“Hurts like hell.”

“And yet you look remarkably unruffled.”

“Hurts inside,” I clarify. I take her hand and press it against my chest. “Right here.”

She smiles and closes her eyes. “I can feel your heartbeat,” she murmurs. “It’s so… steady.”

Her words come spaced farther and farther apart, drenched with the kind of peaceful sleepiness you only get when you know you’re safe. When you know that nothing can hurt you.

I like that I can give her that.

I want to give so many things to her. She lives with her hackles up, but it doesn’t have to be that way. If she lets me in, lets me close, I can build a castle to keep her safe and happy and beautiful.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how she looked in my arms on the dance floor at the charity gala. Like, for the first time in her whole life, she didn’t have to look over her shoulders. She could just drift to the music and let me carry her where she needed to go.

I want to give her that—again, and again, and again.

And just as I open my mouth to tell her, I look over—and realize she’s fast asleep.

I sleep off and on through the night. Every time I wake up, I check to make sure Sloan hasn’t moved. And every time, she’s right where I left her. That’s all it takes to let me drift off again.

When I wake up for good, she’s still there, tucked limp and beautiful against my side. I’m not sure if she’s awake or asleep or somewhere in between. But her hand floats over the covers, takes mine, and pulls it into her grasp.

That’s how I know it’s time.

With her free hand, she walks down her belly like she’s going to touch herself. Before she can get close, though, I push it away.

No one is touching her but me. Ever again.

I lower my head and tease her nipple with my tongue through the lacy bra. Her back arches into me as I slide my hand down her silky skin to her panties. She’s wet already, so fucking wet it’s unbelievable.

I slide my finger inside of her. One, then another, using my thumb to circle her clit until she’s squirming and writhing while my tongue mimics the motion against her nipple.

I need to see her face. I want to watch the ecstasy transform her. She whimpers as her body goes tight. She’s ready. Almost there already. So easy it’s almost embarrassing.

She pulls me down for a kiss then breaks away, her legs strong and tense. “Oh, Beck!” She’s crying out my name and if the house caught fire I couldn’t look away.

And then her body pulses, her hands clench the sheets, and the pain is almost as fucking hot as the look on her face as she comes apart.

Sloan orgasming is more beautiful than I ever could have imagined.

When her tremors subside and she’s still, it’s only a second before her eyes widen and she rolls away from me, off the bed on the other side. She catches herself on her legs and rips off my blanket to cover her body. I’m tempted to pull it back, but I don’t.

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