by Mara Jacobs
“No,” he said, maybe a little too quickly. But it had to be said. If only he’d had the maturity at nineteen to say it then.
But really, would anything be different?
They’d never know.
He could live with that much easier than the logical Alison could—a woman who chose to study why people did the things they did. A woman who deeply believed in the cause and effect of the human psyche.
He’d kind of had the “shit happens” philosophy most of his life.
“I’m sorry, Petey,” she said. The words did not flow easily from her, that was for sure. She cleared her throat and added, “For never letting you have a say.”
He could have pinned her on that one, made her feel like shit like he had for so long. And he probably would have a year ago. Maybe even as recently as their last hook-up at Katie’s wedding.
But he’d done a lot of thinking since last fall when faced with a body that was calling it quits on professional hockey. And even more this past week when the towel had been definitively thrown in on his career.
“It’s okay, Al,” he said softly. That got her. Her head snapped up to look at him. Those brown eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed with wariness. She was waiting for his knockout punch. “Really. Part of me is grateful you didn’t give me a choice. I saw the weight of it on you— I didn’t want that. I couldn’t handle that.”
She still looked a little wary, her head tilting as if measuring his words.
“The other part of me could feel self-righteous about you shutting me out. And believe me, I did hold it against you many times.”
“I know you did. And I didn’t blame you.”
“Didn’t stop you from ripping me a new one every chance you got.”
She smiled, the storm past. “Oh, you gave as good as you got, buddy.”
“Would you have had as much fun if I hadn’t?”
Her smile broadened. God, she was cute when she smiled ear-to-ear like that.
“Not hardly.”
They both laughed and then the phone rang, startling them both. It was a cordless and the cradle was sitting on the nightstand next to him. He could have easily tossed it to her, but instead he picked it out of the cradle and held it out so she had to come over and get it.
And be right next to him.
Within touch.
Twenty-One
Street hockey is great for kids. It’s energetic, competitive, and skillful.
And best of all it keeps them off the street.
~ Author Unknown
Alison knew she should have just reached out for the phone. Instead, she got out of the chair and made her away around the bed to Petey’s side, taking the phone from his hand.
“Hello?” she said as she noticed his hair was still a little wet from his shower. It curled at the ends, just barely grazing his shoulder. If she just reached out she’d be able to run her fingers through—
“Alison? It’s Darío.”
Why would Darío be calling her so late? Did—”Katie? Is she okay?” Terror rushed through her at the thought of something happening to Katie’s baby.
“She’s fine. They just wheeled her away.”
“She’s in labor?”
“Yes. She’s been having contractions since noon, but they’ve just gotten to the point where the doctor had us come in.”
“So, you’re at the hospital?” Her voice caught. Katie had wanted a baby for so long, and it looked like she’d soon be able to hold hers in her arms. Petey’s hand clasped hers and squeezed. She slid hers more firmly into his, loving the way his swallowed hers up. “I’ll be right there,” she said to Darío.
“No. That’s why she wanted me to call. We’re going to be here a long time. Her family’s on the way now. She wanted you and Lizzie to come later. Tomorrow. She said she’d need you two to run….”
“Interference?”
“Sí. Interference. She said she might have had enough of her family by then.”
Alison laughed. Katie had a big family who would be camping out at the hospital and no doubt driving her crazy.
“Okay. I’ll be there first thing in the morning. But you’ll call if something….” God, she couldn’t even think it.
“I’ll be in the delivery room. But I’ll have one of her brothers call you if there’s news.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Bye, Alison.”
“Bye. Oh, and Darío?”
“Yes?”
“Congratulations!”
The line was quiet for a moment, and he said in a thick voice, “Gracias, Alison.” Then he was gone. To his wife and their soon-to-arrive baby.
She set the phone back in the cradle with one hand. Petey gently tugged on her other and she sat on the bed, her butt near his hip, her back to him. He released her hand and snaked his arm around her waist. He scooted forward a little and rested his chin on the top of her head.
“You know what this means?” he said.
“What?”
“Well, you know what happened the night Lizzie went into labor.”
She smiled, even though he couldn’t see. Maybe because he couldn’t see. “You think every time one of my besties goes into labor I’m going to sleep with you?”
“I’d say right now it’s about a fifty-fifty shot.” He rocked his chest against her back, then kissed her neck.
“I feel like I’ve done nothing this week but say no to you one night and yes the next.”
“That sounds about right.”
“That’s not the kind of person I’d like to think I am.”
“Complicated?”
She looked over her shoulder at him, as his blue eyes studied her. “Wishy-washy,” she said. Then she added, “You think I’m complicated?”
“Are you shitting me?”
“No. I’m not. I think of myself as a pretty rational, logical person. I think most people do.”
“I’m not most people.” She opened her mouth to smash the lob he’d just tossed her but he quickly added, “At least, I’m not most people where you’re concerned.”
“True enough.” She turned back around and he began to nuzzle her neck. She tilted her head, giving him better access.
“Just so we’re clear, this is the last time.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, then ran his tongue up her nape. “Have I ever told you how fucking sexy the back of your neck is?”
“That would be no,” she said on a sigh.
“Climb up on the bed. Climb up on me,” he whispered in her ear, then nipped her earlobe. While his arm continued to hold her to him, his other hand inched its way under her sweater and up her back. She figured he’d stop at her bra clasp, but no, he slid all the way to her shoulders, where he gently massaged her tense muscles.
“It’s been kind of a crazy year for you, Al. And I know I make you crazy, too. And I don’t mean the monkey-sex kind of crazy.”
She rolled her neck, relaxing into his touch. In the front, he burrowed his hand under her sweater and rested his fingers just slightly inside the waistband of her jeans.
“I don’t think of you as wishy-washy, or a tease, or anything like that. I think of you as a woman who occasionally listens to her body over her head. And as the recipient of that lapse in judgment, I can only say…right on.”
She laughed—a big boisterous guffaw. Then she yelped as he slid her body over his so that she was in his lap.
“This seems familiar,” she said, thinking of his first night in her house. In this bed. God, had that only been a few days ago?
She wrapped her arm around his neck and inched up a little so that her face was deliciously even with his mouth.
“Kiss me,” he whispered. She leaned closer, but he pulled back a few inches and whispered it again. Fire rushed through her at the thought of playing games with Petey.
She knew some people thought of him as a dumb jock, and she’d called him exactly that on many occasions. But the truth was in this—in sex play—he was
definitely her intellectual superior.
Which was fine with her.
She zeroed in for his mouth and this time he didn’t pull away. Such a soft mouth for such a hard man.
And growing harder.
She wiggled her ass on top of him and he groaned. As their tongues played, he grabbed her waist and started to turn her, to lay her down, then stopped.
“Damn, I won’t be able to get deep that way. I still don’t have the leg strength for good ol’ missionary.”
Embarrassed, she buried her head into his neck, nuzzling him, breathing in his male scent and tasting him with her tongue.
“Yeah, that’s good.” His hands moved up from her waist, taking her sweater with them. “Let me get this off you. Yeah.” When she raised her head and then her arms, he whisked her sweater off and tossed it to the floor. He dropped his hands and leaned back against the headboard, putting way too much space between them. But oh, what a lovely view of that massive chest. She reached out to touch him, but he brushed her aside. “Take off your bra,” he said.
In that voice.
She shifted again, her arousal spiking at his tone. And at that grin that spread across his rugged face.
“The bra, Al. Lose it.”
She reached around and unclasped it. No teasing show with it this time. She wanted it gone so she could rub her aching nipples against that gloriously hairy chest. She slung it away and moved closer, but he put a hand on the base of her throat, stopping her progress.
She whimpered.
He chuckled.
“I want the jeans off. And as much as I’d love to see you wiggle out of them again, I’m so fucking hard I can’t wait. Stand up, get them off, and get back on me.”
She did as he said, sliding off him, undoing the clasp and fly of her jeans, and yanking them off. She put her hands in the waistband of her red panties and looked at him questioningly.
“They sure are pretty. But yep, get them the hell off that pussy.”
Who knew she, brainy Alison, could get so turned on by dirty talk? It both surprised and titillated her.
And spurred her on to strip the panties down her legs and off. She stepped to the bed and put a knee up. “Your leg?” she asked.
“Is fine. But you’re going to have to do most of the work this time.”
She bit her lip.
“Don’t worry, Al, I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”
She warmed even more at his words. He gave her exactly what she needed in bed. It felt like she was just discovering herself sexually at thirty-six.
And she liked who she’d discovered.
Before she climbed onto the bed, she peeled the pink sheet off of him in a slow reveal, disappointed to find the towel she’d forgotten was there. She reached for it but stopped when he said, “Leave it. At least for now. It’s good friction.”
She couldn’t quite identify the sound that came out of her at the thought of all that friction—sort of a half moan, half sigh. She climbed on the bed, being careful of his knee when she swung a leg over him. He clasped her waist and dragged her up his chest, fitting her neatly against him, her knees bent along his hips. She grabbed his wide shoulders. In a flash his hands were gone from her waist and nestled deep in her short hair, pulling her head toward him as his mouth found hers in a heated kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, burying one hand into that silken black hair, her other skimming across his broad back. His tongue probed her mouth as he deeply kissed her. He held her head tightly in his hands. He only broke away long enough to grunt, “Rub yourself on me.” Then he was once again covering her mouth, sipping from her, licking her lips.
Devouring her.
She started moving forward and back against him. The cotton of the towel covering his hard erection chafed her in all the right places.
“Yeah. That’s it. A little faster.” His mouth moved down her cheek, her chin and to her neck where he began to suck. “Let’s mark you up,” he said in her ear. “Let’s put my mark on your pretty skin. Do you want that, Al?”
She couldn’t answer but only rubbed faster. Until he put his hands on her waist, stopping her.
“Answer me,” he said in his command voice. She opened her eyes and looked at him through a haze of lust. His blue eyes bore into her. “Do you want my mark on you? Do you want me to brand you as mine?”
She nodded.
“Say it,” he barked, squeezing her waist.
“Yes. Make me yours,” she whispered.
He growled his approval and his mouth was back on her neck as his hands prodded her hips into movement.
She hugged him closer and rose up on her knees, needing to feel his flesh beneath her. Reading her mind, one of his hands ripped the towel out from under her and she sat back down on his wonderful hardness. They both moaned in satisfaction—and he wasn’t even inside her yet.
“Take me in your hand,” he said and then returned to sucking on her neck. She reached between their bodies, grasped his thick cock, and started stroking.
He hissed. “No. Shit, I’m too close. Just get me...yeah...that’s it.” She shifted up and then eased down on him, her muscles stretching to take him all in. She arched back, taking him deeper. He leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth. His tongue twirled before he sucked on her. She held his head to her and began to ride him.
“Yes. That’s it. Ride me. Ride me hard,” he said, then moved to her other breast and sucked. His arm wrapped around her and settled across her ass, his hand on the indent of her hip. He pulled back from her chest and took her face in his hand, forcing her to look at him.
“Faster now, baby. That’s it—see how deep you can take me.” His words drove her frantic pace. His thumb dug into the top of her ass, his fingers grasping the curve of her hip. She tried to kiss him, to bury her head in his neck, but he held her still, demanding she look at him. She braced one hand on his shoulder, the other on his pec and picked up her pace.
“Do it. Take it. Take what you need, Al.” His voice was commanding even though in essence he was giving her the power. Her knees ached with her rapid motion.
“I…I can’t…get there,” she moaned, trying to release his grip on her, thrashing her head.
But he didn’t let go. In fact, his grip tightened as his other hand slid back around to her front and down into her curls. “I’ve got ya. Just keep riding. I’ll get you there.” He found her so quickly, seemed to know exactly the right pressure to apply. His thumb circled her clit and then pressed just as she came down hard on him.
This time when she reared her head back he let go and moved his hand to clasp her shoulder as she shuddered in her climax. “Keep going, keep going,” he urged. It went on and on, wracking her body with spasms and lights that flashed in her head.
Just as she was coming down, his grip on her shoulder tightened, his other hand grabbed her hip, and he pumped her up and down on himself as he came.
They breathed heavily through the aftershocks and their arms easily wove around the other, hugging tightly.
They stayed entwined—sated. When she finally made to move, he held her tight and whispered, “Stay with me.”
She nodded into his chest, not trusting her voice.
As gracefully as she could, careful to slide to his left side and away from his bad knee, she moved off of him. He kept an arm around her as he slouched down out of his sitting position and onto his back. She curled up next to him, her hand and head on his chest.
For all they’d been through, they’d never had a moment like this—peaceful intimacy.
“This is nice,” he said, reading her mind.
“Yes,” she agreed and burrowed into his side. She kissed his chest and was rewarded by a tightening of his arm around her.
Her neck tingled and she chuckled.
“What?” he asked, nudging her.
“I was just thinking that it’s a good thing it’s turtleneck season, ‘cause I’ll bet I’m going to have one hell of a hickey come morning.”
“I can guarantee that,” he said with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Why do you suppose I get so turned on by the caveman thing?”
He raised his other hand and covered his face. “Jesus, Al, do you have to analyze everything? Can’t we even have a little afterglow before you have to pick it apart and examine it?” There was teasing in his voice, but she knew he meant it.
And she knew that he was right.
“Sorry. Sorry.” She kissed his chest again and licked his nipple. She loved the groan that came out of him and licked again. “I just find it fascinating. I mean, there’s no way in hell I’d ever let you control me out of bed.”
“Believe me, I’d never try. I may be a dumb jock, but I’m not stupid. I only know there’s no right or wrong way to get turned on. What does it for you—does it for you. To try to understand it can only kill it.”
She laid her head back down on his chest as she smiled.
For a dumb jock, he could be kind of smart.
Twenty-Two
I don’t sing because I am happy; I am happy because I sing.
~ William James
Wonder of wonders, she was still in his arms when Petey awoke the next morning. Not quite morning, but the hours just before. The only other time they’d spent the night together—after Katie’s wedding—she’d snuck out him while he slept.
Depriving them both of the morning hard-on he’d awakened with, just like he was sporting this morning.
But today she was soft and warm and right next to him. Her back to his front, they made a lovely spoon. He slid his hand from where it rested on her hip up to cup a breast. He molded and fondled and the tip of her nipple hardened in his fingers. She moaned and rocked her ass into his erection. He nuzzled her neck as he played with her tits. She was obviously awake, but he didn’t speak, not wanting to break the mood. But would she get as hot—as worked up—without him telling her what to do? Without his demands and control?
His hand slid off her breast and she let out a whimper, which he tried to calm with a soft “Shhh,” and kisses on her neck. He trailed his fingers down her petite body, over the curve of her hip, down to her stomach, gently circling her belly button. Her hips started to roll and her own hand came up to her tits and continued what he’d started. “Yes,” he encouragingly whispered.