Page 24 of Hot Stuff
“I’ve never taken a woman bare,” I say before she can take offense.
“Oh.” Then she’s smiling at me. Big and bright and I can’t stop myself from sitting up and pressing my mouth to hers.
The kiss is slow and soft and sweet, and I want to keep doing it for hours, but Oakley has other ideas. Hands on my face, she pulls away and locks her gaze on mine.
“I’ve never let anyone take me bare.”
Her confession has my heart tripping in my chest. My blood rushing in my veins. My dick throbbing deep inside her.
Every step of the way we seem to stumble into emotions neither of us are ready for or expecting.
I know what this is, where it’s going. I can see it all laid out like a movie reel in my head.
I’m going to grow old with this woman. No matter what happens with the Rogues, if we manage to handle me being head coach or not, I’ll be beside Oakley for the rest of my life.
And right now, I want to show her how I’m feeling, because Lord knows we aren’t ready for the words.
For me to say them.
Or for her to hear them.
But I can definitely show her. Speak to her heart in a language as old as time.
Lying back, I take her with me and roll. Cradling her face in my hands, I drop my mouth to hers and take her mouth the way I intend to take her body.
Slow and sweet and gentle, I rock us.
With each thrust, I push a little deeper, a little harder but not faster.
It’s a languid sweep of our senses, an easy stroll to the peak, and when we finally reach the point of no return with our eyes locked, mouths joined, my cock deep inside her clutching depths, we fly together.
Oakley
Before I open my eyes, I have a smile on my face.
Yesterday had been the best day.
And I’m not just smiling about KAW securing the National Hockey League’s newest franchise.
No.
The smile on my face has as much to do with the man currently curled around me as reaching a goal we’ve been working years to attain.
I’m not normally a smug person but I feel pretty damn smug about the Rogues right now. Especially when we were told more than once KAW and the Baton Rouge Rogues wouldn’t get the green light.
Walker’s fingers flex against my stomach before pressing hard for a fraction of a second then trailing over my skin in tiny circles.
“Morning.” His voice rumbles along my neck and against my spine where his chest presses into me. “Regrets?”
A bark of laughter leaves my throat before I can answer him. “Hell no. You?”
“Not on your life.”
The hand on my stomach moves upward. His fingers spreading wide, palm flat, he continues until he curls his fingers around my jaw. With a gentle tug, he tilts my head until I can feel his breath on my lips.
Opening my eyes, my gaze meets Walker’s sleepy one. His eyes are more gray than blue this morning and I wonder if they change with his moods or the light.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
