Page 45 of The Slapshot and the Single Mom
God. I thought I was happy before. This is immeasurably better.
Emboldened by her starting to undress me, I let my free hand roam up and down her body. I’ve been trying to keep it to her hip, maybe her back, trying to be respectful until I had a clear go ahead to do more. But now, I skim the edge of her boob, lifting my head to watch her reaction. She holds her breath as I swipe my thumb along the underside of her breast, and she lets it out with a shudder as I cup it gently.
Her hand comes up to the back of my neck, and she pulls my mouth to hers. As we kiss, I slip my hand inside the deep V of herneckline, caressing her through the lace of her bra. She presses herself into my hand, offering enough wordless encouragement that I peel back the cup of her bra and capture her nipple between my thumb and first finger, rolling it gently.
She gasps, arching, and I lift my head, wanting to drink in the sight of her. Holding her eyes, I gently move the fabric of her dress and bra out of the way, then lower my head and replace my hand with my mouth, sucking her nipple between my lips, rubbing the tip with my tongue.
“Jesus. God,” she gasps, and I can’t help smiling around the nipple in my mouth. She likes this. A lot, from the sounds of it.
I want to give both sides equal treatment, but the angles here don’t really work for that. Lifting my head, I put her clothes back in place. “Do you want to take this to the bedroom?”
“Yes,” she breathes, and I grin in response, gratified that she seems as eager as I am.
“I have condoms,” I tell her as I sit up, pulling her up to sitting as well. I want her to know that I’m not one of those douchebags that tries to pressure or convince women to do it without one.
“Good,” she answers, pausing to kiss me again. “I wouldn’t have sex with you without one. I’m not on birth control, and I don’t want to have another baby right now.”
“Me either,” I murmur against her lips.
She pulls back, looking at me with eyebrows raised. “You don’t want to haveanotherbaby? Is there something I should know?”
Laughing, I stand, taking her with me, and she lets out a whoop of surprise that makes me laugh more. “No,” I tell her as we get to my room. “I just meant I don’t want to have a baby. I don’twant to get you pregnant and have to deal with all that entails. I don’t wantyouto have another baby if you don’t want one.”
That seems to make her happy, and when I set her down on the bed, kneeling on the floor beside her, she captures my face in both hands and kisses me thoroughly.
Rising up, my mouth never leaving hers, I lay her back on the bed, settling over her, our bodies fitting together just right. My breath comes short like I’ve just done an hour of skating drills, and I have to stop kissing her and catch my breath. When I look down into her face, she smiles up at me, and just like that, I’m totally lost to her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Maggie
This man.This gorgeous, flawed, but somehow perfect man. He does and says all the right things, enough so that it scares me, but nothing he’s done so far has proven to be just an act.
Even this, here, he’s constantly checking in with me via looks and touches, making sure I’m okay, getting a verbal yes, never taking anything I’m offering for granted.
And the way he looks at me …
It’s like he sees me as someone precious, delicate, needing to be cared for.
I’ve always been the one taking care of everyone else—at least since I was an adult. I took care of Kyle. I take care of Liam. Kyle never cared for me in the same way. And I don’t think he ever looked at me the way Jack’s been looking at me all night. Like …
Like Imatter.
I know that’s sad. I know that should be the bare minimum. But when that’s so foreign, so far out of reach that it might as well be on the moon, or Mars, or some planet in a distant galaxy, having it here in front of me is …
A lot to process, honestly.
But I’ll do that later. Right now, I’m going to soak it up, bathe in it, drape myself in it like silk, then tuck it away so that when this ends, I’ll remember how it feels to be adored. And I’ll know to accept nothing less ever again.
He kisses me again, briefly on the lips before trailing another line of kisses down my neck, over my collarbone, once again finding his way to my breasts. This time, he confidently tugs aside my dress and bra, his mouth finding my nipple immediately and sucking hard, nearly lifting me off the bed with the intense pleasure of it.
When he lifts his head, leaving my nipple hard and stiff, he gives me a smug grin before peeling my dress and bra back on the other side and doing the same thing there. I let out a wordless gasp, and he gives me the edge of his teeth until I hiss, and he lightens up, making it so the pressure is just right.
He takes his time, moving back and forth between my nipples, occasionally glancing up at my face, until it’s both too much and not at all enough. My hips move, seeking friction, pressing into the hard plane of his abs. It’s something, but also not what I want. Not what I need.
Moving back up, he settles his hips against mine, and I let out a sigh of relief as the hard ridge of his dick lands in the valley between my legs, rubbing against me just where I need him. Hekisses me, moving against me, and sweet Jesus, why are we still wearing clothes?
I half untucked his shirt already, so I reach for the other side and start pulling. It comes free easily, and he stops moving against me and lifts his head. Sitting back on his knees, he undoes a few buttons then pulls his shirt and undershirt off all in one go, wadding it up and tossing it aside. I can’t help staring at the expanse of skin he’s revealed, the way it ripples and stretches as his muscles flex and relax with his movements.
