Sparks of light danced across my vision as she writhed against me, and thanks to the rapid breaths sawing in and out of my mouth, lightheadedness set in.
With my free hand, I undid the clasp of her bra. I released my grip on her wrists, and as she lowered her arms, her bra slid down to the floor. Then she shimmied out of her panties, the movement so sexy that I stopped breathing altogether.
Words escaped me. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t help it. After taking a few extra seconds to appreciate the view, I bent my head and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth.
She whimpered and gripped a fistful of my hair, and the world around us spun. I gave the same treatment to the other breast, not wanting it to feel left out.
“Ryder.” My name came out on a breath, hardly any sound behind it.
“Hmm. Having my name panted is definitely a turn on, but I still need to find out what makes you scream it.” I reached inside the shower and turned on the water to give it a chance to get nice and warm.
Lindsay dragged her fingertips down my chest, so torturously slow that I saw black for a moment. She helped me out of my boxers, then she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me, teasing my tongue with hers.
I stumbled toward the shower, taking her with me as I stepped into the hot spray. “Is the temperature okay?”
“I’m burning up, but I don’t think it’s the water.” Pink crept into her cheeks, like she was embarrassed by the remark.
“I’m right there with you.” I dragged my finger down, between her breasts, over her belly button, between her thighs. She gasped, her entire body shuddering, and I circled her clit a couple of times before withdrawing. “I forgot, this shower was supposed to be about getting clean, not dirty.”
She smacked my arm, the water making a loud slap against my skin. I grabbed the bar of soap and slicked it over her. The bubbles turned colors and then slowly slid down her body, going all the places I wanted to.
I turned her around and got my first look at the tattoo I’d glimpsed that first night in the tutoring center, along with her perfect bare ass. I traced the bright, watercolor dandelion tattoo that started on the right side of her lower back, with the fuzzy, colorful seeds drifting up toward the center of her spine and floating up it, where they eventually morphed into colorful birds.
Then I wrapped my arm across her shoulders and pulled her to me, my dick pressing against her ass as I kissed her neck.
I swiped the soap across her breasts once more for good measure—never mind that there’d never been any paint there—before spinning her back to face me and extending the sudsy bar to her.
Her expression turned deliciously evil as she took her sweet time soaping me up, occasionally using her hand to wipe at the bubbles, going a little lower on my abdomen each time.
Then she set the soap aside and gripped the base of my shaft with her slick hand, stroking it once, twice…until I couldn’t take it anymore.
I kissed her hard, pushing her back against the tile, basking in the way her skin slid against mine. I reached between her thighs to finish what I’d started. With every whimper, I moved a little faster, drawing her right to the edge before plunging one finger inside.
She cried out my name and my blood turned liquid hot, zinging through my veins as most of it headed south. I added another finger while I continued circling my thumb.
A couple more pumps and she came, her muscles clenching around me as she screamed out my name again.
“That’s it,” I said, smothering her cries with my mouth. She clung to me, her breasts rising and falling against my chest as her fingers dug into my shoulders.
“So…” I worked to regain control of my breathing, but it wasn’t really possible. I swept the wet strands of hair off her face. “We can call it a night, or—”
“Are you kidding me?” Her eyes locked on mine. “You have approximately two seconds to find a condom and screw me.”
My cock leaped at the suggestion, every inch of me wanting to do just that, but I did my best to keep my features neutral. “Or what?”
She ran her finger across the bottom of my abdomen, mere inches from my rock-hard dick. Then she grazed the length of it, and I had to brace my hands on the wall on either side of her to keep my knees from buckling. “Trust me, you don’t want to find out.”
Chapter Thirty
Lindsay
Ryder’s eyes remained fixed on me as he rolled on the condom, every ounce of his intense concentration focused on me, and I forgot how to breathe. Rivulets of water dripped from his hair, ran down his cut torso, down his powerful legs…I almost pinched myself, thinking this entire night must be a dream, because it was too perfect. He was too perfect.
The way he looked at me. The way he treated me. Emotions overwhelmed me, the warmth of feeling cherished, that love that terrified me rising me up, too. Bliss, euphoria, a flicker of worry, yearning, lust, anticipation, and back to all-consuming love.
I closed the distance between us, wrapping myself around him and kissing him with everything I had in me. He reciprocated, plunging his tongue into my mouth until all I could taste was him.
Our skin slipped against each other, the friction sending the temperature inside of the shower skyrocketing. Ryder traced my spine with his fingertips, then continued down, along the curve of my butt to the back of my thigh.
He hooked his hand under my knee and brought my leg up over his hip, his erection pressing against me, and the need to have him inside me took over.
I arched, my body trembling from the intoxicating sensations as his head grazed my opening.
The seconds that followed were like right before we’d kissed in the weight room, the air so charged as we stared into each other’s eyes that sparks danced across my skin.
I cried out as he entered me, pleasure traveling through me in waves. His lips moved to my neck as he flattened me against the wall of the shower. He sucked the skin there as he moved inside me, each thrust taking me higher.
The water turned cooler, and I was glad for it, because it took off the edge of the fire blazing inside me. Our lips found each other again and one kiss blurred into the next, until breathing seemed unnecessary.
Pressure built between us, and I dragged my fingernails down his strong back. He boosted me higher, pinning me in place with his body, and the change in angle sent me into a whole new level of ecstasy.
My mouth fell open, and I might be embarrassed by how loudly I moaned if I wasn’t too blissed out to care.
“That’s it, baby. I’ve fantasized about this moment, and it’s nothing compared to the real thing. To how good it feels to be inside you.” Every sensation amplified, and when Ryder dragged his thumb across my lower lip, the world spun off its axis. “Say my name again.”
“Ryder,” I said, and then I sunk my teeth into his knuckle.
He groaned and thrust into me harder. I circled higher and higher, and just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, I tumbled over the edge, sagging against Ryder’s body for support as I completely shattered apart.
Ryder followed right behind me, whispering my name against my damp neck as he did.
I clung to him as both of us worked to catch our breath. Then he braced his hands on either side of my head, shot me a smile that would’ve melted my panties if I had any on, and dipped his head to kiss me.
Confession #16: That was the hottest yet sweetest sex I’ve ever had.
Before this afternoon, I didn’t even know that combo was possible. And now that I knew it was, it’d be impossible to settle for anything else.
The problem was that I’d have to eventually.
Don’t think about that now. Just enjoy the afterglow.
Ryder shut off the water, climbed out of the shower, and handed me a fuzzy blue towel. Once we’d wrapped our wet bodies in towels, he extended his hand. I didn’t bother asking where we were going. I knew if he was going, I wanted to go. I supposed I should be concerned that I didn’t have any clothes o
n, but that seemed inconsequential.
I heard voices in the living room, and Ryder moved me in front of him, blocking me from view, and walked me down the hall, away from the blips of conversation. We stepped into his bedroom and he locked the door behind us.
The other day I’d been too distracted by my conflicted feelings over crossing lines with him to fully take in the details of his room, but now I noticed the mostly bare walls, extremely tidy floor, and tightly made bed. Even his room reflected his controlled personality—or more like he controlled not showing it. The only sign he truly lived here was a photo with the team from last year, right after they’d won the Frozen Four Tournament. I knew, because I’d been there, and even if I hadn’t, the front and center NCAA trophy would’ve given it away.
The picture wobbled as he opened his dresser. “Championship hockey T-shirt or plain black T-shirt?” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’d hate to take the stream crossing too far.”
“I’d say that all streams have already been crossed.” I took the hockey T-shirt. “Might as well embrace it.”
When I dropped my towel, he let out a gruff curse as his eyes devoured me from head to toe.
“You just saw me naked a minute ago, at most,” I said.
“I’m not sure it’s something I could ever get used to.” He ran his fingers down my side and rested his hand on the curve of my butt. Then he hauled me against him. “I’m willing to try, of course.”
“How magnanimous of you,” I said, using the word that’d first made me think there was something different about this hockey player.
He rubbed his nose against mine before dropping a quick kiss on my lips.
I slipped the huge T-shirt over my head, and he stepped into some plaid boxers. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me onto his bed with him. He curled me against his chest, wrapping me tightly in his arms, and gave a happy sigh. “Best day ever.”
“It was pretty awesome. Here I thought shooting hockey players would be the highlight, and then you had to go and top it with shower sex.”
His chuckle stirred my damp hair.
I loved how in the shower it was all power and taking charge, but in those in between moments, and after, he turned back to tender gestures and smiles.
He said he didn’t care about my past; said he wanted me, and wanted us, and it sounded like he wanted it as much as I did. That made it okay to love him, right? In fact, it felt like I got to love him. In this moment, choosing to didn’t make me feel weak, either. I felt like I could take on the world.
Which made me think that maybe—just maybe—I could find a way to make it last.
Chapter Thirty-One
Lindsay
Confession #17: I might be a puck bunny again.
Okay, according to the exact definition, maybe not so much. My interest wasn’t primarily motivated by sexual attraction to the hockey players anymore.
Just one player, and I did enjoy other aspects of the game. I wasn’t the hugest fan of how much anxiety coursed through my body at the thought of the team losing. I already had trouble not resenting how little time we’d been able to spend together this past week—hockey ate up Ryder’s days and evenings, and even when we’d caught a few hours here and there together, he was more distracted than usual, muttering plays and worrying about the outcome of playoffs. If they lost, it’d feel like a waste, not to mention Ryder would be crushed.
“Get him, get him,” I said, leaning as if that’d help Ryder get to the guy from the other team who was breaking for the goal faster. “That’s it!”
I leaped to my feet as Ryder blocked and swung at the puck, sending it toward Beck. “Woo hoo!”
The end of my shout came out on a hoarse shriek. Ten minutes into the semifinals game, and my throat already felt raw from cheering and screaming. Somehow I’d gone from willing to do almost anything to score a hockey player, to avoiding them at all costs, to spending all my time trying to keep my hockey player happy, including praying for a win.
Man, he looks hot out there. I knew exactly how the muscles under those pads looked and moved, and a hot flush swirled through me as I thought about all the amazing things he could do with that body.
The boys set up their offense, passing the puck back and forth, and Lyla, Whitney, and Megan stood to join me as we cheered for them to score. When Beck got the puck, Lyla wrapped her hand around my arm and tucked her head on my shoulder.
“I’m too nervous to watch,” she said, but she peeked, her fingers tightening on my upper arm.
A quick pass to Dane, who cut across and sent the puck into the goal.
Megan shouted as she bounced on the balls of her feet, Lyla and Whitney cheered, and I got in on the action, adding the earsplitting whistle Mom taught me—it certainly gained attention.
Then we all hugged like we’d helped our boys out on the ice, and I liked to think we had in our own way.
“You’re going down, Quinnipiac,” Lyla called. “Just wait till Lindsay’s boyfriend smashes your face into the wall.”
I smothered a laugh. Lyla’s version of trash talk was always a bit different from the rest. I liked how she called Ryder my boyfriend, though—I couldn’t hear it enough. I was seriously close to being the girl who drew her and her boyfriend’s initials in a heart with a plus sign and an equals True Love Forever, like I was in high school. Except back in high school I never would’ve done that.
When Lyla looked to me, I assumed for backup, I shouted, “That’s right! Nobody messes with my boyfriend!”
We giggled and dropped back into our seats. Happiness tingled through every inch of me. When I first started hanging out with these girls and slipping into the hockey world again, I’d been too scared to fully believe my life had changed. Too afraid that if I let myself think I had friends and a guy who was as crazy about me as I was about him, that when I inevitably found myself alone again, I would no longer know how to deal. But these girls kept showing up, even on the days when our boys were too busy with hockey to hang out. We already had plans to head to the Howl at the Moon piano bar after the game to celebrate our win—we refused to discuss any other option. I’d even worn the same outfit I did for the quarterfinals game since they’d won that night.
Which meant I was now not just a hockey fan, but a superstitious one. I guess that sounded better than puck bunny.
I glanced toward the area where I used to frequent, and several of the usual suspects were there. Misty and her temporary, until-a-guy-paid-her-attention friends. Other girls I recognized. New girls who were flashing lots of leg and cleavage despite the chilly temperature of the rink.
I sorta wished I didn’t understand them anymore, but part of me still did. Sometimes it took a lot of effort to capture a guy’s attention—not everyone was as persistent as Ryder. I wasn’t judging, either. If it made them happy, go sexual revolution and all. I just hoped that they were, in fact, happy. That they didn’t get their hearts broken, and the guys they hooked up with at least treated them decently. But I knew there’d be a few who’d accidentally fall head over heels. Who’d be treated poorly right afterward—just kicked to the curb like they meant nothing.
Residual hurt rose over the times I’d been treated that way, when it took everything in me to convince myself that it was okay, because I’d been in control. I tried to focus on the other times, the ones where mutual fun was had and both parties walked away satisfied. Live and learn, right? That was the important thing.
I looked back at the girls next to me, all three of them leaning forward and watching the game with intense expressions. I’d heard parts of their stories, and I knew they’d had their fair share of bumps along the way to falling in love. I also knew it wasn’t always easy for them to find time to spend with their boyfriends. Or for Megan’s brother to resist the urge to kill hers when Dane got a little too handsy in front of him.
A grin stretched across my lips, and the tingly blissful vibes I’d felt this past week multiplied. These girls loved their guys wi
th their whole hearts, and I wouldn’t call any of them weak. I wished I could stop waiting for things to go south, but a part of me still struggled to believe fairy-tale relationships were possible. That the happily ever after in books belonged only to fiction.
But my beliefs were slowly changing and reshaping.
Hope took hold, and instead of pushing it away, I held on to it.
After all, there were jobs around here, and I’d bet money there was less competition for newspaper spots in Boston than New York. Cost of living would be cheaper, too. Maybe I could find something and stick around for a couple more years. Did that make me naive? Desperate? Weak?
The other team broke for their goal and I scooted forward, my focus turning back to the game. Ryder slammed into the guy from the opposing team who’d gained possession. He hit the boards with a loud thwack, and Hudson swooped in, stole the puck, and took off in the other direction.
When we scored again and the other team called a time-out, Ryder looked up into the stands. He tipped back his helmet and shot me a smile that made my insides go all melty on me.
I blew him a kiss, and just like that, my plans shifted. I’d start applying for jobs here, so that even after I graduated, I could keep dating Ryder and see what happened. We owed it to ourselves to at least try, right?
A prickling sensation tickled my neck, that feeling of being watched, and I glanced around to find a guy somewhere in the forties age range staring at me. He looked familiar, but it took me a couple of seconds to figure out why. I’d only seen him from a distance last game, so I couldn’t be sure, but I was almost certain it was Ryder’s dad. He had Ryder’s same dark hair and general build, but his features were more angular, and instead of warmth, the guy radiated a cold, calculating vibe.
A memory tickled my brain, this strange déjà vu sensation I didn’t understand settling in.
But then the whistle blew, the game clock started again, and I turned back to the game, trying to ignore the unsettling cold lump that’d formed in my gut.
Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny (Taking Shots) Page 17