Page 112 of Practice Makes Perfect
I cover her hand with mine, relaxing slightly. “Then what?”
She takes a deep breath, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve been feeling this way for a while now, and I need to say it. I... I love you, Linc.”
The words hang in the air between us, fragile and momentous. For a second, I’m too stunned to respond. Not because it’s unexpected—if I’m honest with myself, I’ve been falling for her since that first disastrous hookup attempt—but because hearing her say it makes everything inside me light up.
“I love you too,” I say without hesitation, the words flowing naturally.
And they’re true—truer than anything I’ve said in a long time. I do love her, this funny, brave, brilliant woman who somehow saw past the hockey player reputation to the person underneath.Relief and joy wash over her face. She leans in, pressing her lips to mine.
“Come here,” I say, pulling her closer, then rolling us so she’s beneath me, her hair spread across my pillow.
“I thought hockey players weren’t supposed to have sex on game days,” she murmurs as I trail kisses down her neck. “Something about conserving energy?”
“It’s only practice today.” I laugh against her collarbone, before moving lower to kiss her nipple. “And some things are worth breaking the rules for,” I say.
She gasps, arching into my touch. “So this won’t affect your negatively impact your performance then?”
I glance up at her with a wicked grin. “Well, it’ll definitely affect my performance right now.”
Her laugh transforms into a moan as I continue my southward journey, pressing kisses to the soft skin of her stomach and then settle between her thighs.
Her retort dissolves into a soft cry as I taste her, savoring the way she trembles beneath my touch. I take my time, still learning what makes her breath hitch and her fingers tighten in my hair.
My exploration of Em has only just begun when the apartment door slams shut.
“Fuck,” I mutter against her inner thigh. “That was not forty minutes.”
Em freezes beneath me. “Is that?—”
“Mike. Back early.” I lift my head, listening to the rustling in the kitchen.
“What do we do?” Em whispers.
A surge of frustration mixes with desire as I look at her—flushed, breathless, and nowhere near satisfied. An idea forms, sending heat straight through me, and a wicked grin to my face.
“A quickie?” I ask, my voice dropping lower.
Her eyes widen. “A what?”
“A quickie,” I repeat, already moving up her body, positioning myself between her thighs. “Fast, intense, and if we’re quiet?—”
“You can’t be serious,” she hisses, but I notice how her pupils dilate, the way her breath quickens. “He’s right out there.”
I press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “We’ve got maybe five minutes before he knocks again. But if you don’t want to?—”
Em answers by pulling me down into a fierce kiss. “Show me,” she breathes against my lips.
Challenge accepted.
After taking less than five seconds to put on a condom, I’m in her. She’s still wet, and I slide in with minimal resistance. She gasps into my mouth, her body arching beneath mine.
“Shh,” I warn, though the sound of her pleasure sends electricity down my spine. “Gotta be quiet.”
I start moving, setting a fast, relentless pace. This isn’t about finesse or exploration—it’s raw need, urgent and desperate. Em’s nails dig into my shoulders as I thrust into her, hard and deep.
“Oh God,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Linc?—”
The pressure builds quickly. I slip a hand between us, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at her center. Her body tightens around me when I circle my thumb there, matching the rhythm of my thrusts.
