Page 22 of Hot Stuff
“Walker.”
Her tone is chastising, and I have to laugh. “Is this what a relationship between us will be like? You telling me what to do?”
“I’m not telling you what to do,” she huffs. “I am concerned about you hurting yourself.”
Placing her on her feet, I wait until her gaze connects with mine before I tell her a truth only my doctors and I know.
“My kneesarefine. If I were anything but a professional hockey player, I would have been back to work and normal life months ago.”
“But—”
I press a finger to her lips. “The damage is repaired; unfortunately neither are or ever will be at the strength or stability they were before the injuries.”
I don’t tell her the real reason for my need to retire. She’ll find out soon enough.
“I still don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
The fact Oakley isn’t concerned because she wants me to play again is refreshing. For months the only concern has been how long until I could be back on the ice.
“I won’t push it that far,” I promise.
“How will you know? You could trip because you can’t see something on the floor, you could bang into?—”
“I promise to take care.” I can’t believe how close her comment is to the true issue. It’s probably the perfect place to tell her but I don’t. “I still want to be able to take to the ice, and I will, but you’re right, anything could happen and not just when I’m carrying you. I could get bumped on the sidewalk, slip down icy stairs, twist the wrong way, there are so many things that could set me back but I’m not going to live my life like I’m disabled. I’m not. Nowhere near it and you have to trust me to know when I’m pushing it too far.”
She puffs out a breath and says, “Fine. You know what you can and can’t do.”
“Ready for me to show what else I can do?” I ask, stepping into her space. I crowd her back toward the bed.
“Oh, and whatcanyou do, Mr. Alcott?”
“Any damn thing I want.” I pounce, scooping her up in my arms again and dashing for the bed.
With a laugh, I toss her on the covers still rumpled from earlier. Not giving her time to evade me, not that I think she will, I climb onto the mattress and cage her beneath me.
We don’t speak for long moments, just gaze into each other’s eyes and communicate in a way I’ve never done before.
This connection we have would be overwhelming if I thought too deeply about it. But when Oakley skims her hands from my shoulders to my groin, I’m not thinking at all.
I’m diving into the woman beneath me with a soul shattering kiss.
I touch her nowhere else; I want her like this.
Mouth to mouth, breath to breath.
I want to savor this contact before moving on to the next. Except Oakley has other ideas, and the hand she wraps around my cock makes it clear what they are.
“Slow,” I murmur. “I want to go slow. Take my time getting to know every inch of you.”
“We can go slow next time.” Her fingers tighten on my shaft. “We’ve got all night.”
I grin against her mouth. “We do. But?—”
She shoves her tongue almost down my throat before she pulls back with a nip to my bottom lip and a laugh. “Who knew it would be so easy to shut you up?”
Soothing the sting with the stroke of my tongue, I study her. “You like the idea of being able to shut me up?”
“Hmm…” Her hum is accompanied by a harder pull of her hand along my cock, and I can’t stop myself from groaning, from rocking my hips and shoving my dick through her fingers faster. “Nothing else to say, Mr. Alcott?”
