Page 109 of Racking Up Penalties
“You are going to regret this.”
As Michael turns and walks away I take my first deep breath and try to push his threat from my brain.
Liam and Ethan come out and just miss their dad. They look so happy, I hate that I have to ruin it.
After they pull me into big hugs with lots of kisses I tell them.
“Michael came and told me to stay away. He said I was going to regret staying with you.”
Ethan and Liam puff up with fury, their faces turning red.
“I’ll kill him,” Ethan growls.
“No one is killing anyone. He can’t hurt us if we stay away from him and Ethan has already cut ties. We stand by that and don’t let him think he’s getting attention for this outburst,” Liam demands.
We both agree and I push the thoughts about Michael away and focus on my guys.
“Let’s go celebrate,” I say.
“I have just the thing in mind. Let’s recreate the night before Thanksgiving,” Ethan says tugging me to his body.
“Deal,” I say with a giggle.
But when we get back to their house, Liam’s mom calls to talk about the game, leaving Ethan and me alone.
The air is thick with anticipation as Ethan’s warm fingers find mine, pulling me closer. We’re in the living room, a dim glow from the floor lamp casting shadows that dance on the walls like our own private audience.
“Should I take advantage of having you to myself?” he asks.
There’s only this fierce need that’s roaring through my body, drowning out any doubt.
“Yes,” I breathe out, my voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough.
Ethan’s lips crash against mine, and suddenly, I’m alive. His kiss is an inferno, igniting every nerve ending, and I melt against him, our bodies pressed so tightly I can almost hear his heart racing against my chest. My hands roam over the muscles of his back, feeling the strength that hockey has etched into him, the power that now holds me close.
“Come with me,” he murmurs against my lips, and I nod, unable to form words.
Hand in hand, we make our way down the hallway, our steps in sync.
Ethan strips me, running his hands along my body. It feels like every nerve in my body is alive, attuned to his every move.
The soft sound of my accelerated breathing fills the room, mingling with the distant thud of my heart.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and the word feels like a touch itself, warm and intimate.
I reach out tentatively, my hands finding the hem of his shirt. With a boldness spurred by the fire within, I lift it, revealing the sculpted landscape of his abdomen. Each muscle is defined, a testament to countless hours on the ice, perfecting his sport—a dedication I can’t help but admire. My fingers dance across the ridges, and I feel the steadiness of his breath, controlled yet betraying the same urgency that’s coursing through me.
It’s a revelation seeing him like this, the raw power of his physique juxtaposed with the vulnerability in his eyes. It’s a potent mix, and I can’t look away; it’s impossible not to want him, every part of him.
“Tessa…” His voice cracks, laced with emotion and something more, something deeper that resonates within my chest. It’s a hunger, a need that echoes my own.
Ethan’s hands find mine, and the warmth from his touch ignites a trail of fire that races through my veins. I am led—no, we are drawn—toward the bed.
Our bodies collide, an entanglement of limbs and unspoken promises as we fall onto the softness of his bed. His lips meet mine again, and I’m lost in him.
Ethan’s mouth trails away from mine, exploring the column of my throat, marking a path down to my collarbone. My fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer, not wanting even a sliver of space between us.
His hands roam over my body, reverent and curious, tracing the lines of my form like he’s committing every detail to memory. And I do the same, driven by an insatiable curiosity to learn the language of his skin.
