Page 50 of Forecheck
When at last I’d worked out my anger, I sat next to him and grabbed his hand, all the fight leaving me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have screamed at you, but I don’t mean what I said any less.”
“I know,” he said, locking our fingers together. “I’m sorry for making you mad enough to scream.”
“It’s okay. I just…talk to me before you go making plans for both of us, okay? If we’re going to do this, Ineedan equal partner,” I said, voice cracking.
“Of course,” he agreed. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
He held out his pinky, and I wrapped mine around it.
“I don’t want to go to your game,” I said softly when I pulled away. “I don’t want to leave early.”
“I know, baby. You don’t have to.”
I’d never been big on pet names or nicknames in general, but I’d be damned if I didn’t melt into a fucking puddle every time this man called me “baby,” “babe,” or, the one that was quickly becoming my personal favorite, “Blondie.”
I rested my head on his shoulder. “I’m still really, really glad you came tonight.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
I was gripped by the sudden desperation to be close to him, and not just sitting side by side on the bed. I wanted to wipe the last few minutes away, to deepen our connection.
And I knew exactly how to do it.
“Enough of this sappy shit,” I said, scooting backward onto the center of the bed. Then I crooked a finger at him. “Come here.”
Fucking Look At You
Brent crawled up, movingso he hovered above me. He’d discarded his suit jacket when we’d entered the room, leaving him in slacks and a light grey button up. Without asking for permission, or offering any words at all, I reached up and slowly undid the buttons on his shirt. As he sat back on his heels, I rose with him and pushed it off his shoulders, exposing his bare chest and those sexy sleeves of tattoos down his arms.
Years of playing hockey had turned Brent into the most perfect example of male athleticism I’d ever seen. He was broad in the shoulders, his chest tapering into a slightly more narrow waist. He had abs I wanted to lick and pectorals lightly dusted with dark hair.
Brent pulled me onto his lap and kissed me, his lips soft and warm against my own. Lightly, I scraped my fingernails up his stomach, making him sigh against my mouth. When he ran his tongue along the seam of my lips, I opened for him. Our tongues danced together, breaths coming shorter and shorter as our urgency increased. I pulled away, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses to the side of his neck, trailing my nose acrosshis throat and repeating the process on the other side. The glimpse of dark ink trailing across his left pec had me shifting on his lap, desperate for my first full, in-person view of the massive eagle in flight.
Over the years, I’d seen plenty of pictures of him in t-shirts that hinted at the designs inked across his skin, and one day I’d know the stories behind them all, but my attention was solely focused on the majestic bird at the moment.
The head and body rested on his deltoid while its wings spread wide across his chest and back. Its claws were outstretched, eyes narrowed, beak open as if at any moment it would emit a menacing call and swoop down, grasping some unsuspecting prey in its clutches and dragging it away. The artist had done an incredible job, the details of the bird so lifelike that I half expected to feel soft feathers instead of Brent’s smooth skin when I ran my fingers over the lines.
I could tell by the tension in his body that Brent was barely leashed, so I moved to straddle him, my dress riding up around my waist. I leaned forward to press my lips to his clavicle, where the tip of the eagle’s wing brushed against the bone. Brent inhaled sharply and reached behind me, pulling the zipper on my dress. It fell off my shoulders, pooling at my waist, revealing my red lace bra and stomach.
I ran my hands down his arms, marveling at the smooth skin stretched over hard muscle.
Lifting my gaze, I looked into his eyes and said, “You’re beautiful.”
Brent didn’t speak, simply bent and pressed open-mouth kisses to my chest. When his nose dipped between my breasts, I sat back, giving him easier access.
“Let me take care of you,” he said against my skin. “Just…god, Berk. I need to touch you.”
Rising off his lap, I stood and peeled the dress the rest of the way down my body until it puddled at my feet. Brent’s chest rapidly rose and fell as he watched me, looking his fill when I was half naked.
“Fuck.”
I waved a hand in his direction. “I mean…same.”
Brent chuckled, then rose to stand in front of me, raising his hands and tracing them up my sides until they came to rest in the middle of my back—right over the clasp of my bra.
“May I?”
