Page 111 of Daring the Hockey Player
"And I would love nothing more than that," he says, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I lean into his hand, his warmth, his body, desiring as much contact as possible.
"But?"
I dread what he might say, and those butterflies go rampant.
Jasper shakes his head. "I want you more than you know. I want you to be sure, and I really wanted to take you out on a date before we did this," he says, brushing his lips against mine.
I lean into his touch, and his hand against mine releases long enough for me to wrap my arms around him, touch him, and explore his body. I reach for the hem of his black T-shirt and drag my fingers over his skin.
He's warm, and the more I touch his hips, the more I want to touch every part of him. "Shirt off," I command.
Jasper sits up, his hands joining mine as he helps me remove his shirt, tossing it onto the floor before climbing back down my body.
"I was serious about the date," he whispers against my lips, his mouth grazing my neck, his fingers sliding under the jersey that he gave me, caressing my bare skin. His touch is featherlight, and it makes my stomach flutter and my heart race.
"Our schedules don't coincide," I say. That isn't his fault or mine. He's busy with the team, the league, his games. I don't blame him for not being around to take me out. That wouldn't be fair to him. "I'll take what I can get." I grin up at him.
"But it's not enough. Your first time should be with someone you love," he says, staring down at me. "Not just someone who is in love with you."
My breath catches in my throat. He said the words earlier, in haste, in the middle of us fighting, and I did my best to ignore it.
But with his intense gaze boring into me, it's hard to pretend he didn't just say those words.
"You barely know me," I say, trying to bring reason into the conversation. Because I do love Jasper, but the feeling terrifies me. I've never felt this way about anyone romantically before, and I don't want to fall hard and get hurt.
"I know that when you get nervous, you laugh and glance away," Jasper says. He drops a tiny kiss to my nose. "I know that you love unconditionally and will stop at nothing to get what you want. You're determined."
He plants another kiss, this one on my cheek. "You're sexy, and you don’t even realize how gorgeous you are, which is even hotter. And while I don't trust you in the kitchen, you are so loving and kind that you don't take what you feel isn't earned."
I laugh, not sure what he's talking about. He did peg me right on the laughing when I'm nervous, but I meet his stare, refusing to let him be right about me glancing away.
He shifts down to my stomach, inching my shirt up around my waist, his breath warm as he kisses above my navel. "You've earned everything that you have, Amber. You deserve to be happy, to be cherished, and loved."
Inch by inch, he guides my shirt higher, his lips and tongue teasing me, warming me as I sit up, and he removes the jersey, letting it hit the floor with a thud.
"No bra?" he grins, and I snicker.
"No panties, either," I say, and reach for his hand, guiding his fingers into my waistband, letting him discover the truth for himself.
His eyes widen, and the smile grows on his face. "If I had known, I would have gotten thrown out of the game a lot sooner," Jasper whispers and covers my lips, his tongue pushing into my mouth.
We roll around, me on top, as I lift my hips and shimmy out of my pants.
"Slow down there, tiger," he says, rolling me onto my back. "I'm not in any rush, are you?" Jasper lifts his hips and removes his pants and boxers, and I suck in a sharp breath.
He has me pinned against the mattress, his hips above mine, teasing me. The longer that I stare up at him, the more my nerves begin to resurface.
I don't expect him to have waited for me to be his first, but I can't help but worry about how many girls he has been with before me. What if I don't do something right? Or worse, what if he doesn't like sex with me?
His thumb grazes my cheek and draws a soft path along my bottom lip, releasing it from between my teeth. "Talk to me," he whispers, staring at me.
He's warm, and his eyes shine down with mirth, and all I can think about is, what if I'm bad at this, and what if he hates it?
"I'm nervous," I admit, hoping that if I voice my fears that, somehow, I can conquer them, and he can get me out of my head.
"It's just me," Jasper says and rolls over onto the mattress. He pulls me against him as we lie on our sides, staring into one another's gazes. His hand trails soft circles against my hip. "We can wait as long as you need. If you're not ready—" He moves to sit up in bed, and I grab his arm. His bicep is enormous, and he smiles when he sees me staring at him.
"What if I'm bad in bed?"
