Checked (Gold Hockey Book 7)

by Elise Faber

  Rebecca stopped him. “Wait,” she gasped.

  Gabe blinked, the haze of desire replaced by concern. “Did I hurt—?”

  She pushed up onto one elbow, used her free hand to cup his jaw. “No,” she murmured. “I wanted to do this.” Leaning back, she arched enough to slip her hands under her shoulders and unhooked her bra. A quick shimmy later, it was on the floor.

  The garbled sound he made was totally worth the sliver of insecurity she felt lying there spread out beneath him, upper half fully on display.

  Well, that and the heat in his eyes.

  And the way his hands shook.

  Because, in an instant, the embarrassment was gone, replaced by need and desire and an impossible to resist urge to put her hands on him again.

  So she did.

  She traced her fingers along the curves of his shoulders, down his chest, cupping his pecs and brushing through the light dusting of dark hair covering them. His breath caught when she traced over one nipple, then the other, stomach clenching to reveal squares of muscles as they trailed lower.

  “I haven’t done this a lot,” she admitted, tracing them over the waistband of his slacks, dipping a fingertip beneath to feel the hot skin below.

  Gabe hissed out a breath. “You’re tormenting me just fine.”

  She laughed, wrapped her arms around his middle, and tugged him down lightly. He followed her lead, coming closer, giving her what she wanted—which was to lean his weight more fully on top of her. That heat, that comforting pressure was exactly what she needed.

  “I’ve been with two people,” she said. “Once in high school, which as you might imagine, wasn’t great since neither of us knew what the hell we were doing. But eventually we figured out a few things.”

  He flicked his tongue over her earlobe, making her shiver. “Babe, you don’t have to—”

  “The second was after things got bad with me. A total disaster.” She turned her head to meet his eyes. “I couldn’t relax. He couldn’t read me. I wasn’t confident enough to tell him when something wasn’t working.” She sucked in a breath, forced her racing heart to calm. “You’re not a fan of jackhammer sex, are you?” Heat flooded her cheeks, part of her unable to believe she’d just said that aloud, while the rest of her knew that she could say it because it was Gabe in her bed.

  Gabe who’d spent four months being her friend.

  Gabe who was funny, kind, and sweet.

  Gabe who could kiss like sin.

  In that moment, however, he grinned down at her. “Is that what you want?”

  She shook her head quickly. “God, no.”

  He laughed. “I happen to do non-jackhammer sex really well.” A beat. “If you’d stop talking long enough for me to do so.”

  “Got it,” she said and started to reach for him before pausing. “I have condoms in my nightstand. I’m not on the pill, and—”

  He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, extracted a condom from inside. “Freshly put there tonight.” He flipped it to show her the date on the back. “Even expires in two whole years.”

  “I thought you were going to have us wait.”

  “I like to be prepared.”

  She laughed.

  “So, can I get back to kissing you now?” he asked lightly. “Or would you like me to discuss my sexual partners as well?”

  Rebecca shuddered. “God, no. But Gabe—” She broke off, not sure how to word what she wanted to say. She was comfortable now, body raring to go and her mind right alongside it, urging her to jump in and stop thinking. But what if that changed? What if she couldn’t?

  “If it’s too much, we stop,” he said gently, reminding her again how much he’d come to understand her over the last four months. “It’s only complicated if we make it that way. You want me, right?”

  She nodded.

  His hips pressed lightly against hers, the hard length of his cock making her gasp and thrust back. “It’s clear I want you,” he said. “That you want me. So we explore that however far we want tonight.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  His brows waggled. “I’m easy.” She giggled and he nuzzled her throat, whispering in her ear. “I just want you, baby. However, you’re comfortable.”

  She bit her lip.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said and hesitated.

  Gabe, of course, read her hesitation. “What is it?”

  She took a deep breath, pushed away the fear and asked for what she wanted. “Do you think you can kiss me again?” He grinned, lips coming toward hers, but she arched up and placed a hand on her breast. “Here.”

  Heat in those gorgeous espresso eyes, that grin going liquid and sending desire spiraling outward from her middle.

  “I can do that,” he murmured. “In a minute.” His mouth dropped to hers.

  His tongue could do absolutely wicked things, but she liked his particular brand of wicked and managed to meet him stroke for stroke. At least until his hand cupped her breast, caressing it gently then slightly harder when she pressed it up into his palm, his thumb shifting to tease the tight bud of her nipple.

  She groaned, ripping her mouth from his, and he took the opportunity to kiss his way down her throat, along her collarbone, and into the space between her breasts. His jaw was roughened with stubble and the prickly sensation raised goose bumps on her skin. But even as she was still shivering, he took advantage of her distraction and sucked one nipple deeply into his mouth.

  Okay, really, that was to her advantage.

  She arched up, gripping the back of his head to hold him in place, moisture flooding between her thighs, only loosening her grip slightly when he made it clear he was trying to give the same enthusiastic attention to her other breast.

  “Fuck, Gabe,” she moaned.

  He laved his tongue over the sensitive tip, bit lightly, the other fingers of his hand sliding down to the button on her pants. With one flicking movement, he had it open and was slipping his hand beneath the waistband.

  She was soaked, absolutely drenched, and he groaned when his fingertips hit that wet, hot space between her thighs.

  Not that she wasn’t right there with him, legs automatically trying to widen, hips tilting up to prolong the contact. Unfortunately, the tight pants Gabe had been admiring all night meant that she didn’t get very far.

  “Here.” He extracted his hand, gripped the waistband and tried to tug them down.

  And got all of six inches before they bunched and tangled at her hips.

  The pleather stuck and twisted, the fabric catching on her sweaty skin, and they spent several minutes straining, yanking, and cursing before they managed to pull them off her ankles.

  Her underwear came off with them, but Rebecca wasn’t complaining, not after their struggle for dominance with black faux-leather.

  Tossing them aside, Gabe stole her mouth in a kiss that sent her pulse skyrocketing, breaking away only long enough to say, “I can’t decide if I love or hate those pants.”

  “Love on,” she gasped as he bent and sucked her nipple into his mouth again. “Hate the process of taking them off.”

  “Mmm,” he agreed, fingers trailing down, dipping back between her thighs. His mouth spent some quality time with her other breast before trailing down her stomach and replacing his fingers. Or rather, working in tandem with his fingers, which were spreading her wide, while his lips descended onto her clit.

  That was nice, as was the way his tongue flicked out, but it wasn’t until he sucked the bundle of nerves deep that she was gasping and writhing, lights flashing behind her eyes and her hips jerking.

  “Oh God,” she groaned when he nipped, and pleasure exploded through her body. Every nerve stood up in rigid attention, heat building in her center, filling her up, burning, growing, spreading until finally it burst and she was reduced to ash.

  She couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. Could only feel pure pleasure burning through her.

  All that remained were embe
rs. Her soul was in tatters, her skin only cinder.

  Until she floated back to Earth with Gabe cradling her close. Then she was reborn, a phoenix from the ashes.

  “Hi,” he murmured.

  “Hi,” she sighed inanely.

  “Okay?”

  She nodded. “I wasn’t sure I was even in this universe for most of that.”

  “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  A grin. “It’s the best thing. The best thing I’ve ever.”

  His smile matched hers, but he didn’t move, didn’t make any indication that he was going to take it further. She smiled into his shoulder. That was so Gabe. And that meant she needed to be the one to say it was okay.

  It was funny. That should have created pressure, her having to be the one who set the boundaries, the one who pushed them. But instead of pressure, she felt relaxed, comfortable, relieved. Not a lot tended to happen on her terms, and him giving her that gift—one of patience and understanding—made it easier for her to peek out from behind her armor.

  Which was why the moment she could lift her arm, she raised it in the direction of the nightstand and the condom he’d put there earlier.

  “Are you—?”

  She tore it open with her teeth, extracted the latex circle, and rolled it down his length.

  Gabe didn’t ask if she was sure this time, didn’t stop her, or put on the condom himself. Instead, he watched her with hot brown eyes as she stroked it down his cock, slowly protecting them both.

  And when she lay back and spread her legs, he moved on top of her, bracing himself on one elbow while lacing the fingers of his other hand through hers.

  “Okay?”

  She lifted one leg, wrapped it around his hip. “Okay.”

  He slid home slowly, both of them wanting to savor the moment. She’d never felt anything quite like it, and definitely not when she’d been with other people in the past. This . . . connection with Gabe couldn’t compare to those experiences in the least. It was more and it was everything. It was being close to someone, in ways she never could have imagined.

  It was the most intense interaction of her life.

  And yet, it wasn’t overwhelming or too much. She didn’t feel the need to withdraw or hide behind her shy. She wanted to move out further, to throw every part of herself at him, knowing he wouldn’t fail to catch a single piece.

  Then he moved.

  Her focus shifted, concentrating on the way he felt, how big and hard he was, how deep he was thrusting, how he adjusted his angle as he kissed her, driving her pleasure back up so she was spiraling tighter and tighter just as he was.

  She tore her mouth away, gasping in air as she got near the edge, not quite there, not sure what was missing, just knowing that she was so damned close.

  But he understood what she needed, unlacing their hands and slipping his thumb between her thighs to press firmly down on her clit. It was almost too much, that pressure, riding that fine line between great and overwhelming.

  In the end, it was just right.

  She shot over the edge.

  Gabe thrust once, twice more before falling alongside her.

  But even as pleasure grabbed him, he still held her as though she were the most precious object in his world.

  And for that moment, she believed it was true.

  “Shh,” she said, later that evening after they’d gone out for a midnight snack of freeze-dried snap peas and wine—remarkably, they paired well together. Now they’d just finished the new episodes of Love is Blind and were chatting. Naked.

  That was a new twist to their consumption of wine and reality television.

  But it was also a great one. And it compelled her to confide in him.

  “How am I supposed to listen when we just got finished watching Barnett treat the women that way?”

  “He’s the villain for now,” she said with a shrug. “And also a bit of a tool bag. But just wait until you see what Jessica does.”

  “I can’t believe you watched ahead,” he huffed. “It’s an outrage.”

  She lightly bit his shoulder. “I’m trying to tell you something important here.”

  “What, baby?” he asked, reality TV paused as he realized she was serious. “Are you okay with tonight? With everything that happened?”

  Her heart squeezed. This man. “Yes,” she said, touching his cheek. “I’m fine but—” She sucked in a breath. “Look, you know I struggle with anxiety, but while I wasn’t an easy-going kid—I definitely didn’t roll with the punches well—I wasn’t always like I’ve been over the last ten years.”

  He tensed. “What happened?”

  “My dad left.” She shrugged. “It was a long time coming. My mom was like me, but worse. She refused to get help and things . . . got worse over time. I don’t blame him, exactly, especially because he was the one who got me to a therapist, who paid for it without question.”

  “Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?”

  Her head dropped back to the pillow. “Because there is. He didn’t understand it. Even after twenty years with my mom struggling, he didn’t get that it wasn’t something you just got better from.”

  “He wanted a cure.”

  “Yes.”

  “And there isn’t one.”

  She pressed her lips together. “No,” she said. “There are techniques I can use to push through, ways that some of it gets easier, but no, it’s always there. Even when I lock it away, that anxiety is struggling against that box.”

  “It’s part of you.”

  A nod. “I’m not going to be cured and someday feel totally fine small-talking with strangers or getting up in front of everyone to address a crowd. New places are always going to be a challenge. I’ll always need to research and—”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You say that now.”

  “No.” His voice was firm. “I say that after spending almost every day with you for the last four months. I say that after watching you struggle and seeing you push through things that make you uncomfortable. I say that after having you cancel plans and Yelp like no one’s business.” He picked up her hand, laced their fingers together. “But I also say that after you forgave me for being a jerk, after you didn’t hold it against me one fucking time.”

  “It wasn’t your fault—”

  “It was,” he said, cupping her cheek with his free hand, voice intense. “You know what made me come after you that day? What made me want to be friends, even while thinking that I should stay far, far away from anyone who reminded me of Maggie and the pain that came from loving her?”

  She shook her head.

  “You. I saw fire in your eyes when you told me off. And then I watched that spark disappear. Because of me.” He sucked in a breath, released it slowly. “I knew if I loved Maggie at all—even as just a friend, definitely as desperate for it to be more than that so she could have what she deserved—then I needed to find a way to make your fire come back and to make sure it never disappeared again.” A beat. “Because I knew the universe had sent me a gift. A second chance. But this time, it sent me one I could love as desperately as she deserved.”

  Her lungs froze.

  He touched her nose, said lightly, “In case you’re wondering, the gift was you.”

  She sucked in a breath, every bit of relaxed feeling that had been inside her faded. Because he’d raised the stakes. This wasn’t just boyfriend-girlfriend. This was more, more important.

  More risk.

  And he kept talking, for once not recognizing that it was too much, that she needed to catch her breath and process. “You took my blinders off, sweetheart. You showed me you, and I wasn’t going to squander it, even if that meant I spent the rest of my life as only your friend.”

  “Gabe.” Her heart pounded, her head spun.

  “I love you.”

  No. No.

  This was—

  She couldn’t—

  Every fear she’d locked down exploded out of that
box in her mind. He couldn’t begin to understand. This was exactly what she was afraid would happen. He didn’t know what it would be like. It would start off great, like with her parents, but it would sour. Of course, it would. She was too much work and stress. He deserved—

  Sweat broke out along her spine, her mouth worked frantically, trying to find words, any word that might stop—

  “Baby,” he said gently, but his eyes were worried. He’d realized that she was too far gone.

  But it was too late.

  “No.” She shoved him back, slipped from beneath the covers and ran into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind her.

  He had to go.

  He had to.

  She closed her eyes and rested her head on her knees.

  This couldn’t be.

  It was never going to work.

  Seventeen

  Gabe

  He’d fucked up.

  He’d missed the signs.

  He—

  “Fuck,” he muttered, staring at the closed door of the bathroom and wondering how he was going to fix this.

  Too much too fast, after he’d spent the last four months playing the long game.

  Moron.

  She’d been trying to share something important with him, and he’d talked all over it, had missed it was too much. So much for taking the blinders off.

  Carefully, he eased out of bed and slipped on his boxer briefs then crossed over to the bathroom door and knocked lightly.

  No answer.

  Not that he’d really expected there to be.

  But the question was, did he push, or did he give her space?

  Every instinct told him he couldn’t let her be alone in the bathroom, allowing whatever terrible thoughts were swirling in her head to fester, but . . . he’d already pushed her past her boundaries once, and look where that had gotten them.

  He started to turn away, to pace the length of the bedroom as he processed, but then he heard it.

  The sniffle.

  The memory of her voice in his mind. I’m not broken.