Page 50 of Pucker Up
It was a statement.
“I’m sure that’s part of it. I’m fascinated by the brain, and we are just scratching the surface about the impact, no pun intended, of injuries.
Distracted from the conversation, the sheet slipped off my breasts and pooled around my waist. I grabbed for it to cover myself.
Ace took it from my hands. “Leave it. Those are too magnificent to cover up.” He bent and took my nipple in his mouth, giving it a gentle bite. I moaned and writhed with the warmth from his mouth on my bare skin. He didn’t stay there long. He kissed my clavicle, then my jawbone, and then his lips met mine.
“Well, you’ve picked the right group of guys to study. I don’t know any players that haven’t cracked their noggin on the ice.”His eyes widened. “Wait, is that why you don’t date hockey players? Because of our broken brains?”
How had he connected those dots in a five-minute conversation when it had taken me years of therapy to figure it out? Of course, I blamed the concussion for the change in my dad’s character. “No, I don’t correlate head injuries with cheating.” I totally did, but there hadn’t been any studies to corroborate the theory. “Impulsivity, however, can be correlated.”
“Shit.” Ace moved to straddle me. “I can be impulsive.”
“I know. I saw you dive off a ferry to save a dog.”
He grinned and kissed me. “I have a confession to make.”
That goofy smile that warmed me from within stayed on his face, so I was pretty confident he wasn’t about to confess to any cold case murders.
“Do I look like a priest?”
“Not with those tits.” He pressed his cock into my belly and cupped my breast in his right hand. “I missed that first ferry on purpose. I was trying to get up the courage to ask you on a date.”
He’d felt the connection that day too.
“So you rescued my dog in order to ask me out?”
“Hell no.” His voice was strained and hitched as I wrapped my fingers around his cock. “I would’ve dove in to save any dog. You know, I’m impulsive like that.”
“Maybe impulsivity isn’t such a bad thing.” The man had me needing him inside me as sure as I needed oxygen to breathe. “Well, Mr. Bailey. On behalf of Morton the Crazy dwarf, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for missing the ferry that day.”
“That was one of the best days of my life. The day that I met a woman—a sexy woman—who knows hockey almost better than I do.”
“Almost?” I gave him a wry smile.
“If you can tell me how to get one past Miami’s goalie, I’ll give you…”
“Give me what?” I narrowed my eyes playfully.
“One of these.” He bit his lip and traveled down my body, pulling the sheet over his head. He slid my panties aside and my hips bucked when his breath tickled between my legs. I gripped the sheets so hard they came untucked, the elastic corners springing free to expose the mattress.
As quickly as he started, he stopped, emerging from beneath the sheets to kiss me on the lips. I’d never had a man do that before and I thought that I’d be grossed out at the taste of myself on his lips, but it was the opposite; I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.
“Deal,” I said. “I’ll tell you what you need to do to win against Miami, but only if you take off those damn boxers.”
For a moment, I thought he was going to resist and we were going to go through another taking-it-slowly talk.
I was wrong. Ace was out of his boxers faster than a forward on a breakaway. As he bit open a condom, I wriggled out of my totally wet panties, kicking them down my legs with my heels. Then Ace Bailey grabbed my ankles, flipped me over, and as my face was buried in those yellow pillows, did exactly what I’d seen in my vision.
EIGHTEEN
ACE
I wasn’tsure whether it was the sun peeking over the top of the eastern city skyline that woke me up, or if it was rolling over to find an empty spot in the bed beside me.
“Goldie?” I called. My voice echoed through my loft. Maybe Ethan was right and this place could use a few rugs and some stuff on the walls. I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and stepped on two condom wrappers. They crinkled as I peeled them from the bottom of my foot. My head pounded and felt like it was being squeezed into a helmet that was two sizes too small, but I couldn’t stop from smiling, even though it fucking hurt my brain to do it.
My semi-hard dick led the way to the kitchen sink. My morning wood was never impacted by a hangover, and today was no exception. I didn’t bother getting a glass, and instead, slurped water directly from the faucet. I splashed my face and dragged my wet hands through my hair. My heart sunk when I noticed that the bathroom door was open. My place was open concept, so unless Goldie had crawled into a closet somewhere, she was gone.
