Page 58 of One Last Shot

She tilts her head up toward mine, like she’s going to say something, but instead she just gives me a smile, then says, “Of course.”

“Your body must be killing you from holding her so long.” In my arms, Stella is like a fifty-pound sack of flour.

Petra just raises her eyebrows in response and gives me a tiny nod of her head. I don’t know how she manages to make the movement so sexy. It’s got to be the way her face changes when her features move. Those big blue eyes under perfectly arched brows, the angular line of her cheekbones under her smooth skin, those full lips that are as sexy right now covered in lip balm as they are when they’re painted bright red. And I love her curls, but there’s something incredibly sexy about her with straight hair. And just like that, I’m flooded with memories of last night and the way she looked with her hair spread out on my pillow. I want to know what that hair feels like wrapped around one of my hands, with the other on her hip as I enter her from behind, what it would feel like to own a piece of her, to know she was mine.

That got serious quickly.I don’t know why my thoughts keep going to this “forever” state. That’s not the path Petra and I are on. She might help me with Stella, but she’s not staying in New York, she’s made that very clear.

“Let me give you a massage when we get home,” I say quietly as we step into the garage.

She rolls her shoulders, stretching them out a little. “You’re the one who just played two hours of hockey. Shouldn’t I be offering up the massage?”

The thought of her small hands being able to massage my body in a productive way is comical. “I’m all set. I want my hands all over you now.”

“We’ll see,” she says with a small shrug.

I raise an eyebrow at her. Last night was not one and done, and we both know it. Not only because we had sex four times before we finally fell asleep, but also because I woke up this morning to her climbing between my legs and waking me up with a blow job. Then there was the sex we had in the kitchen after we ate breakfast, and the way I came up behind her while she was doing her makeup before we went to get Stella, my fingers dipping into her underwear and getting her off while we locked eyes in the mirror. I’m trying to forget the way she sank to her knees after that and gave me my second blow job of the day, because the way she looks with her lips around my dick is something I willneverget over.

When we get to the car, Daniel opens the door for me. I buckle Stella into her booster, and though she wakes for a minute again, she slumps toward the door as soon as it’s shut.

Daniel goes to the driver’s side and gets in as Petra and I go to the back of the car to drop my bag off. When the trunk is popped and blocking Daniel’s view of us, I slip the bag from her shoulder, letting my fingers graze a path down her arm and trail over her hand.

My mouth is mere inches from her face when I ask, “Is it wrong that all I can think of right now is getting you back into my bed, preferably in that jersey?” The thought of her in nothing but my sweater has my dick trying to escape through the waistband of my pants.

“It depends on what you plan to do to me while I’m there.” She fucking winks at me, and it has a growl escaping the back of my throat. I’m so turned on right now that I’m contemplating dragging her to the other side of one of the enormous pillars, where wemightbe out of view, and getting naked with her. I’ve never had sex in public, but right now it feels like the reward might outweigh the risk. She looks at me like she can read my mind, then says, “In the meantime, let’s get Stella home and in bed.”

In the back seat, she snuggles up next to me and I throw my arm around her shoulder, pulling her even closer. She trails her fingertips up my thigh and back down, and from her vantage point, I’m sure she can see how hard she’s got me. But even though she drags those nails up and down my leg, getting closer and closer each time, she never actually touches me where I need her to.

I’m so keyed up when we get back to the apartment that I don’t even care if anyone else notices I’m sporting a huge boner while carrying my kid through the lobby toward the elevator. Petra’s eyes never leave mine the entire ride up to the apartment, and the tension that’s building between us is exquisite. We go together to Stella’s room to get her in bed. Petra insists we take the jersey off her because it’s too loose to be safe to sleep in, but otherwise we leave her in her clothes as we tuck her into bed.

And the minute we are in the hall with Stella’s door closed behind us, Petra says “Meet me in my room in five minutes” and walks away without looking back.

CHAPTER16

PETRA

My underwear is absolutely soaked when I strip them off in my closet. I don’t know how I could get so turned on walking to a car next to him, but it happened. And then the car ride back, where he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into his side, where I dragged my fingertips down his thigh and raked my nails back up. If Stella hadn’t been in the back seat with us, there’s no doubt in my mind I’d have given him a hand job right there, even with Daniel in the front seat.

Slipping the jersey back on, I loosen the laces that run from the neck down the shirt so that it gapes open between my breasts. I want him to think of me like this every time he slips his own jersey over his head.

After I quickly brush my teeth and wash my face in the bathroom, I hear the glass door at the other end of my room opening as I’m drying my face. I step out of the bathroom, my hair still up in a ponytail and my face still damp, as Sasha walks through the door from the solarium in nothing but a thin pair of jersey shorts. I pause in the doorway, noting that the steel pipe that was threatening to break out of his pants earlier is gone. It’s a disappointment until I realize that I can easily make it reappear.

As I lean against the doorframe, I cross my arms over my chest and can feel my boobs squeezing together, hopefully giving him a nice view of my cleavage. He stalks across the room toward me, his eyes never leaving mine, but he stops about a foot in front of me. My body, expecting his touch, reacts by stepping forward toward him. I stop about an inch away, and he lets out a sound that’s half sigh, half groan.

He takes my hand in his. “Come here,” he says as he turns and starts walking back toward the solarium. Once inside, he walks across the space to the low brick wall with the glass rising from it. He steps behind me and plants his hands on my shoulders, those thick fingers of his expertly running along the ridges of tight muscles there. Holding Stella for half an hour while we waited for him was a lot more painful than I let on. It would have been fine if she were awake, but as dead weight, it was a killer. Still, I’m not upset we waited.

I let my head drop back to rest along his collarbone as he massages my shoulders, then I tell him that my lower back is killing me too. He gently slides his hands under the jersey and uses his thumbs to work out some knots there also. The force of his hands on my back moves my upper body forward, and I plant my hands on the glass to hold myself upright. Behind me, he steps closer and fits the length of himself between my ass cheeks.

“You’re not wearing anything under this,” he growls.

Instinctively, I push my hips back to slide along him. A low sound rattles around his throat, but he doesn’t stop massaging my back even as he pushes his hips forward to increase the pressure between us.

I watch the spectacular view of the city as his hands work their magic on my lower back for another minute until his hands move to my stomach and then up the front of my body to my breasts. He cups them in his hands, rolling my nipples between his thumb and forefinger and in response, I push my ass back against him even harder.

He dips his head so his mouth is next to my ear and in a low voice tells me, “I am absolutely obsessed with your body.”

“Good.” I turn my head enough for our lips to meet, and kiss him gently, our lips toying with each other for a minute until he deepens the kiss and lets one of his hands trail down the front of me until it meets my center. He drags two fingers from my clit, through my slick folds, back to my ass, then switches direction again. My hips move to meet his fingers, wanting them inside me to fill the aching emptiness that’s suddenly desperate for him. But he tortures me by dragging his fingers back and forth along my seam until I’m saying his name, begging him, “Sasha, please.”

“Still begging,” he teases.

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