Page 23 of The Goalie's Gamble
“Yes, ma’am,” I breathe, and she lets me tug her down the hall.
There’s a point right before you step onto the ice where the air changes.It’s colder, sharper, tuned.That’s how it feels crossing my bedroom threshold with her hand in mine.I click on the lamp, and the room fills with a golden glow.
I turn back to her, and suddenly, I’m shy.Me.The guy who chugged a nightmare smoothie for a thousand bucks.I feel like I’m holding a puck I can’t afford to drop.
“We don’t have to?—”
“CJ,” she says, and every syllable is a touch.“I want to.”
She reaches for the buttons of her shirt.My girl.Smart, practical Olivia.Slow fingers, careful concentration.The backs of her knuckles skim my bare chest when I step forward, and my breath turns into something unsteady.
“Hi,” I say, because my brain is a raccoon with a shiny object, and the shiny object is her.
She smiles.“Hi.”
I get my hands on the zipper of her pants, and for the first time in my life, I’m grateful for the hand-eye coordination God bestowed on goalies.
“Tell me if I do anything you don’t like,” I say, trying to hide how nervous I am.“Tell me if you want slower, faster, more, less?—”
“More,” she says immediately, voice breathy.
I give her more.
The jeans slide down her legs with a whisper.She steps out of them, and I step back because I have to see her.She’s perfect—all pale skin and curves.
My mouth goes dry.My hands get sweaty.I can’t stop staring at her.
“Liv,” I say, because that’s the only word still on the shelf.
Her fingers hook in my belt and tug me back to her, smile turning a little wicked.
“You keep looking at me like that, and I’m going to forget how to breathe,” she says.
“Same,” I admit, and then I quit looking and start touching.
We take our time without taking too long.There’s a sweetness to it, her laugh when I swear because her skin is softer than anything I’ve ever touched, the way she says my name like a secret, threaded with a heat that burns steadily.Sparks, sure, but also the beginning of something slower and deeper.A banked fire that could last forever.
We crash backward onto the bed and both let out an “oomph” as we land on the mattress.Olivia giggles.I grin as I pull her into me and seal her lips with mine.
She wiggles against me, slipping her panties off and dropping them off the edge of the bed.Then she unhooks her bra.
I can’t resist looking at her then.
I roll her under me and kneel between her thighs, staring down at her perfect curves.“Gorgeous.”
She blushes slightly.“Touch me.”
My hands find her tits, and I mold the smooth globes in my palms.She moans, arching closer, and I take that as a good sign.My fingers stroke her nipples, turning the little nubs into stiff peaks.Olivia is panting beneath me, and hearing her sexy reactions has me burning hotter and hotter.
My cock is a stiff pipe in my pants, and I grit my teeth as it surges against my zipper.
“CJ,” Olivia whines.
I lean down, wrapping my lips around one of her nipples.She cries out, her fingers tangling in my hair and holding me against her.I roll my tongue over the sensitive bud, my teeth graze along her skin, and she writhes against me.
“More,” Olivia orders.
I nod, switching to her other breast.I give it the same careful attention as the first.My mouth worships her until she’s an impatient mess beneath me.
