by Avery Flynn
His only answer was a cocky grin as he popped his jeans’ button open and then slid his zipper down.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand she wasn’t breathing. It wasn’t a choice. It was just simple reality. The anticipation was going to kill her dead before she ever got her hands back on the man. Her obit would read: Horny Nurse Done in By Hot Man’s Zipper.
Just when she thought it couldn’t get more intense, Zach shoved his jeans down, revealing thick thighs and calves that would make a soccer player envious and made her mouth go dry. Then there was the part of him still covered by a pair of black briefs. She’d never found that style particularly sexy before. Then again, she’d never seen Zach in only a pair of briefs that did nothing to hide how much he was packing.
All the air that had been pent up in her lungs escaped with a whoosh as she leaned against the wall for support. She knew exactly how much work went into being in shape enough to grace the cover of ESPN’s body issue, but that didn’t make it any less impressive.
He let out a sexy-but-way-too-overconfident chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes, you like the view very much.”
The man was an egomaniac. And he was telling the truth. Dammit. “I don’t know,” she said, trying to take all the oh-fuck-me-now out of her voice. “I haven’t seen everything yet. The rest could be a disappointment.”
“Could be,” he said, about as humbly as a guy so obviously blessed could. “There’s only one way to find out.”
And with that, he did a quick pivot away from her as he shoved his briefs down and then started down the hallway toward his bedroom, giving her the perfect view of his ass, if not his hard cock. The man was a teasing pain in her butt. Of course, it was kinda hard to remember that when she was looking at his ass. Talk about perfection. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to stare at it, kiss it, or smack it—chances were, though, that she’d have plenty of opportunities for all three tonight.
“Where are you going?” Because she needed him right now, preferably within touching distance.
“To my room,” he said, barely slowing his steps. “You’ve gotta make this call, Fallon. You want me as much as I want you, but you’ve got to own it.” Then he disappeared into his bedroom. “Oh, and Fallon,” he said from the other room. “You better be bare-ass naked when you get here.”
Who was he to strut around all naked and hot and be all bossy? That wasn’t how she rolled. She was the one in charge. She made the calls. She fought the wars—and won. But when it came to the battle of smart decisions versus a one-night stand with Zach Blackburn? It wasn’t even a stalemate. She was going down, and she’d enjoy every licking, tasting, and touching moment of it.
It only took about thirty seconds for her jeans and T-shirt to end up in the same pile as Zach’s clothes in the middle of the foyer. She made it about three steps toward the bedroom before the asshole little voice in her head started outlining all of the things about her body that she wasn’t such a fan of—hello mosquito-bite boobs—and reminding her of the physical perfection of the women he usually brought home—the puck bunnies with their perfect hair, practically professional-level makeup, and banging bods. She’d eyeballed and objectified the hell out of Zach when he got naked; she’d be an idiot to think that he wouldn’t be analyzing her body, too. Fucking A. Why couldn’t they have just fucked against the wall before her frenemy brain had a chance to catch up?
By the time she was a single step from the door, Fallon had her arms wrapped around her soft, vulnerable middle. There was naked and then there was naked, and she was definitely feeling the latter.
A low whistle of admiration tugged her attention away from herself. Zach stood in the doorway, his hand wrapped around his thick, hard cock and a look of 100 percent lust on his face. The hater in her head shut the fuck up at the sight.
“I might need a nurse,” he said, his voice low and rumbly. “Don’t suppose you know of one?”
It so was not the first time she’d ever been asked to play doctor (and usually, she just rolled her eyes), but she’d never been asked by Zach before.
She took a step into his room. “That depends. Where does it ache?”
…
“Anywhere that I’m not touching you.” And it was past time to end that if either of them was going to make it through the night without spontaneously combusting.
He traced his thumb across the straight line of her collarbone to the place in the middle where it dipped into a U, then he spread his palm wide and glided it over the slight rise of her right breast, cupping it and rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. As Fallon let out a quiet moan, he increased the pressure, tugging the small pink point.
“Fuck, Fallon, you have the prettiest tits.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said with just enough defensiveness under her usual sarcasm to make the dial on his oh-shit meter come to life.
“Don’t see anyone else here, so why are you letting them in?” he asked before dipping his head down and swirling his tongue around her nipple, hoping to distract her thoughts from going in that direction.
“So you’re not thinking about the guys I’ve fucked before you?”
He whipped his head up. “Well shit, now I am.”
She gave him a sexy little grin. “Oops.”
The woman loved to talk smack no matter the circumstances, it seemed—and she was going to pay for that in the best way possible. He slid his fingers through the tight curls between her thighs. Fuck, she was soft and wet for him.
“You did that on purpose,” he said, his voice barely above a strained, growly whisper.
She let out a shaky breath as he circled her clit. “Figured you were the kind of guy who performed better when it was a competition.”
“To be the best fuck you’ve ever had?” He increased the pressure and pace of his touch, following her body’s movements and her little moans to know when to slow down and speed up. “Oh, Fallon, I’ve already won that, and you know it.”
She reached out, holding on to him by the shoulders as she let her eyes fall shut. “How’s that?”
“Because you’re about to come, and I’m barely touching you.”
Biting down on her bottom lip, she let out a mewl of pleasure that was all the encouragement he needed. “You wish.”
“Really?” He pressed his thumb to her clit and held it there while he drew slow circles around her wet opening.
Her breath caught, and her body tightened, her thighs becoming rock hard as the muscles in her ass clenched under his palm. She was close, so fucking close, and all he wanted in the entire world right then was to see her go over the edge.
“You’re gonna come on my hand, and then I’m going to bury my dick in you while I lick the sweet taste of you from my fingertips.”
She tightened her grip on his shoulders and tilted her hips, her body demanding a release he couldn’t wait to see her take. Her short nails dug into his skin a half second before her orgasm hit. He’d have ten perfectly shaped crescents marking his shoulders that the guys on the team would be giving him crap about in the locker room, but it was more than worth it.
“Don’t say a word.” She gave him a teasing pout. “Not a single word.”
He opened his mouth, but she covered it with her hand.
“Your mouth already made its promises. Now, I want to see you carry them through.”
Encircling her wrist, he slid her hand down his chest. “I always keep my word.”
Whatever else he would have said died in a hiss of breath when she slipped her hand from his grasp and wrapped her fingers around his hard cock. Squeezing just the right amount, she stroked up and down as she raised herself up on her tiptoes and kissed the base of his neck. Hand busy, she made her way up his throat with little licks and kisses that had his brain about to short-circuit from sensory overload. Then she glided her free hand up his chest, her touch setting off a million little shocks of pleasure before she brushed against the bar piercing his nipple and a jol
t of hot, hungry need shot straight to his dick.
Yeah, playtime was over.
She let out a surprised “oh” and let go of him when he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to his bed.
“If you change your mind, just say the word.” The words came out in a rush. “I won’t pressure you.”
The look she gave him was too close to sympathy for his liking—especially considering they were both naked. “I don’t know who fucked with your head this hard, but I’m here because I want to be.”
“It’s not that.” It was totally that, but probably not in the way she was thinking unless, she meant his sense of trust in anyone not named Zach Blackburn was pretty much zilch. More likely, she just figured that as a professional athlete he’d spent more than a few nights with women who didn’t want him for his dick so much as his baby daddy potential or his bank account. “Consent is important.”
“I agree. I consent,” she said. “And now I want you flat on your back on that bed so I can take my time with you during our one night.”
That hadn’t been his plan for how tonight would go. His next move would have been to toss her on the bed, spread her legs wide, and make her come again but this time all over his lips. Good thing he was a man who could improvise on and off the ice.
Executing a one-eighty, he turned so his back was to the bed and sat down. Letting go of Fallon pretty much sucked because he loved the feeling of her naked and pressed up against him, but the bossy woman had given an order. Shocking no one more than him, her take-charge attitude made what little blood remained north of his abs rush south.
She stood up, tall and graceful, her body a thing of lean-muscled beauty that was a testament to the fact that she worked every day in a physically demanding profession. There weren’t curves so much as there were lines that he wanted to trace, from her narrow hips to her perfect, palm-sized tits. God, he couldn’t wait to roll those pink nipples of hers between his fingers again, take the hard buds into his mouth, and suck on them until she was moaning his name.
“You look like you’re making plans.”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“Good, because I have plans for you right now,” she said, using a single finger to push him flat on the bed.
The moment she straddled him and slid her slick core up and down his cock, he was lost. Whatever this woman wanted to do to him, he was down with it. Luckily for him, there seemed to be lots she wanted to do to him. Her hands and mouth were everywhere, touching and caressing him as she took her time to explore his body as she rocked against him. Soft flicks of her tongue against his nipple, a light tug on the metal bar, the swirl of her hips, the tease of that braid sliding across his shoulders when she leaned down and kissed him like she wouldn’t be able to make it another moment if she didn’t.
He knew the feeling well because with each undulation of her body against his, close enough that he could feel her sliding against him from root to tip, his control was unraveling. Unable to take it a moment longer, he grabbed her by the hips, stopping her motion.
“Top drawer,” he said.
He didn’t need to explain any more. Fallon leaned over, stretching herself so she remained straddling him, and opened the drawer in the nightstand. He waited until she pulled out a condom before making his move because in the bedroom, like on the ice, timing was everything. As soon as she ripped the foil packet open, he flipped her over so her back was on the bed, then plucked the condom from her grasp.
“I thought I was in charge tonight,” she said as she spread her long legs wide.
He unrolled the condom onto his shaft. “Turnover in your zone.”
Then he grabbed her ankles and pulled her so her ass was on the edge of the bed. He was desperate to sink himself balls-deep into her, but first he wanted the taste of her on his tongue. Sinking down to his knees, he glided his palms up the smooth insides of her thighs, pushing them wider. Then he dipped his head down and tasted heaven, sucking on her clit and lapping at her swollen, wet folds.
Her hands were in his hair, pulling at the strands as she moaned encouragement for him not to stop—something he wasn’t about to do when she was so close again. He moved with her as her body tensed and her words became nonsensical, until she came against his mouth and he rode out the wave, softening his touch as she came down from that sweet high. Her breathing was still ragged when he stood up, palmed her ass, raising her hips off the bed, and plunged inside her tight warmth.
Fuck, he was not going to make this into a marathon session, being inside her felt too good, too right. He sank in deeper, leaning forward so he could kiss her as he pushed forward and back again and again until the tingling started in the base of his spine. He clenched his teeth together, trying to make it last longer when everything inside him was screaming for release. Finally, when he couldn’t, he gave in to the need, letting go with an orgasm that rocked him all the way down to his toes.
He was still sucking wind by the time he was finally able to crack his eyes open and look at Fallon spread out on his bed. She gave him the blissed-out half smile of satisfaction that he figured was on his face, too.
By the time he made it back to the bed after a quick trip to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, Fallon was under the covers with her eyes only half open.
“You’re trouble, Blackburn,” she said, sounding anything but pissed off.
He lifted the comforter and got in next to her, pulling her close. “How’s that?”
“Because that was a hell of a first period.” She laid her head down in the pocket of his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut. “Think you can maintain that all game long?”
“Without a doubt.” At least, when it was Fallon in his bed.
Chapter Fourteen
The Ice Knights’ unofficial song would not stop playing while Fallon fought off an octopus armed with a machete for each of its eight tentacles. It really was the perfect background music for this kind of underwater battle, but just as she was getting her dance-fighting on, the music stopped, and the seafloor shifted under her feet.
“It’s for you.”
The booming voice came out of nowhere, and it stopped her cold. Something wasn’t right. The octopus in front of her started to fade, and it was like she was being dragged toward the ocean’s surface by a tractor beam powered by a really sexy voice. That made no sense—even after she’d been dance-fighting an octopus.
“Fallon, wake up,” the voice said. “It’s your brother, and he sounds pissed.”
Brother? Wake up? All the water disappeared in an instant, and BAM! she was up, jackknifing into a sitting position, her eyes wide open, and the Hartigan “oh shit” warning screaming in her head.
Heart hammering against her ribs, she grabbed the phone from Zach.
“Who’s hurt?” With three firefighters and a cop in the family, the phone didn’t ring without that worry hitting her hard.
“Depends on how likely it is that Mom will kill you for missing the matinee you were supposed to see together,” Finn said.
Relief whooshed out of her, and she collapsed back onto the pillows. Well, that’s what she’d meant to do but somehow had ended up with her back against Zach’s chest instead. “The movie’s not for hours.”
“Try again, sis,” he said, not bothering to keep the you-are-so-gonna-get-it chuckle out of his voice. “It’s past noon.”
“Shit.” This was not good.
In fact, it was the very definition of not good because one of the most painful places to be was in the middle of a Hartigan family gossip whirlwind, and, boy, would there ever be one. Her family lived and breathed hockey, and they’d spent entire meals discussing the man who was, right now, tracing circles on her bare hip as he kissed his way up the back of her neck. It was distracting in the best of bad ways.
“I told Mom you got called in for a work thing.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding. “You are the best brother ever.”
&nbs
p; Of course, the truth of that wasn’t going to stop her from hanging up on said best-brother-ever because Mr. Kept Her Up Until the Wee Hours by Banging Her into Oblivion was ready for round six hundred and eighty-five, judging by the steel poker pressing against her left ass cheek, and she was totally in for more.
“Yeah, tell me that again when anyone is around to hear—and that person who answered your phone doesn’t count,” Finn continued, oblivious (thank God) to what was happening on her end of the line. “Please tell me it’s not Dr. Asswipe.”
Yeah, the women in the movies might fall for their work nemesis, but Fallon was much more likely to set that jerk’s car on fire than have sex with him. “His name is Dr. Anderson, and no.”
“Thank God. The only one worse would have been Zach Blackburn.”
Fallon cringed, wishing her brother had an inside voice. With the exception of Felicia, an ant scientist, none of the Hartigans did. Their voices carried like sonic booms across time and space. There was no way Zach hadn’t heard her brother’s comment.
Finn let out a frustrated huff. “Blackburn? Really, Fallon?”
She snuck a peek over her shoulder at Zach, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged. His calm acceptance of her brother’s idiot reaction, as if people said shitty things about him all the time—which they did—landed with a thud against her chest, and it pissed her off. Then she noticed the telltale tightness around Zach’s mouth. Yeah, someone was bothered by outside judgment more than he wanted to admit. Maybe she’d just set Finn’s car on fire.
“This has nothing to do with you,” she told her brother. “And you don’t get to have an opinion about it.”
“I don’t like it.”
As if that mattered.
She tossed the covers aside and got out of the very warm and very welcoming bed, the exact opposite of what she’d been planning on doing a few minutes ago, but sometimes a person just had to walk off the fury.