He pulled off his shirt and kicked off his pants and shoes. He picked her up long enough to carry her to the lounge chair. Within seconds he’d stripped her completely naked and lay between her legs, keeping his weight on his elbows. Her soft skin pressed into him, her hard nipples scoring his chest. He placed his hands on the sides of her face and kissed her long and deep. The head of his penis touched between her legs where she was warm and wet and slick, all the things he craved. She moaned into his mouth and ran her fingers through his hair. Her short nails scraped his skull, sending shockwaves of fiery lust down his spine to his feet. She rocked her hips, sliding the apex of her thighs against his hard-on. He pulled back and looked into her eyes, deep blue and filled with desire. She wrapped one leg around his waist and moved against him, pleasuring herself and him.
He remembered how good she felt inside, and he wanted that again, as many times and as many ways as possible.
“Sean,” she whispered between little pants of breath. Then she said one word that sent him spiraling and fighting for control. “Inside.”
A deep groan was torn from his chest as he pushed into her incredibly soft flesh. She was tight around him, so luscious and slick, he remembered the condom in his pants pocket. Too late. Much too late to think of stopping. He pulled out and slid into her twice before he buried himself deep.
“That’s good.” He felt each of her fingers pressed into his back and she whispered, “Give me more.”
He looked at her face, and the fire in her eyes, and a little moan escaped her lips. He kissed her mouth as he drove into her, unhurried, taking his time, feeling the pleasure build within him and her.
He watched her face, the lust in her eyes and the pink of her cheeks. “Faster,” she said through a whisper, and he matched the thrust of his hips with hers. The sounds of her pleasure heightened his pleasure and drove him faster.
“Talk to me, Lexie.”
“Can’t,” she said, then she called his name as the first pulse of her body drew tight around him. Her back arched and her orgasm squeezed him so tight he could hardly breathe. He pulled air into his lungs as an intense climax hit him and knocked every last bit of oxygen from his lungs. It started at his toes and worked through him. It lasted too long but not long enough, and when it was over, he felt like he’d been cross-checked and fallen to the ice on his knees, the wind knocked out of him and too weak to get up.
He swallowed hard and croaked next to her ear, “Are you okay?”
“No.”
Alarmed, he raised his head and looked into her face. “Did I hurt you?” Then he saw her satisfied smile and hung his head with relief.
“I don’t know that I’ll ever be the same,” she said. “That was amazing.”
His smile matched hers. He knew the feeling.
Chapter 14
•love stinks
“Did I thank you for Buddy?” Sean asked as he and Lexie entered his dark apartment. “I think he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to my mother. Even better than the time she was cured from double-certain death.”
Lexie chuckled and set her red handbag on the table next to the front door. “He gives her something to think about besides skin lesions and kidney failure.” They’d spent the evening playing darts at a local sports bar. He’d won, but barely. They were both so competitive that it was probably a good idea that they not play any game that contained sharp objects . . . it was too tempting.
Sean turned on the lights and helped her out of her red jacket. “My entire life, she hated dogs.”
“Well, she doesn’t hate Buddy, at least she didn’t when I talked to her yesterday.” She unwove her red scarf and followed him into the living room.
“You talked to my mother?” He tossed her jacket on the couch, then moved beside her to look out at the city lights and the Space Needle in the foreground. “The thought of you two colluding behind my back makes me nervous.”
She doubted anything made him nervous. Tonight they’d looked like a couple in love. The laughter and lingering touches on his big shoulder, and the warm palm in the middle of her back, weren’t real. “She called with a question about Buddy.” But they weren’t in love. At least not both of them.
“What’s wrong with the mutt?”
“She thinks he has gout.”
Sean looked at her across his shoulder and laughed. He wore jeans and a simple black T-shirt, and he turned heads with his dark hair and handsome face. She loved everything about him, but she might like his laughter the most. She didn’t hear it all that often, but it was big like him and filled with amusement and, when not directed at her, infectious.
“I made the mistake of telling her that he might be prone to arthritis as he gets older.”
“He’s only two weeks older than he was before!”
Thirteen days. He’d turned a week older on Valentine’s Day. Lexie only knew because Geraldine had called to ask if Buddy could eat chocolate. Sean had been on the road and hadn’t mentioned the one day every year set aside for lovers. She purposely hadn’t anticipated an acknowledgment from him, and at the end of the night when she’d heard nothing but a joke KO had told him, she texted him three simple words, “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He hadn’t responded and she’d felt foolish. “Look on the bright side. At least she doesn’t have gout.”
“She’s already had that.” He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her just beneath her breasts. “I don’t think there’s an illness she hasn’t had.”
Lexie looked at his reflection in the window, his face just above her head as he stared out at the city. His warm arms made her heart go all squishy even as her spinning head reminded her that it wasn’t real. For the sake of her squishy heart and spinning head, she should grab her purse and run. “I used to be a hypochondriac.” She did neither. She loved him. It wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done, but it hadn’t happened on purpose. “I think I wanted attention—and Band-Aids. Band-Aids were big in my life. My first dog cured me, though. He gave me something to think about besides cuts and bruises.” And who knew what would happen in the future. He wasn’t going anywhere for three more weeks. A lot could happen. He could find her simply irresistible and fall in love with her, too.
“Oh, I don’t think anything can cure her for long. Although I think she’s just about run out of illnesses.”
She thought of Geraldine the first time she’d met her, all wrapped up in an eye-crossing afghan and skullcap. “When I was six, I thought I had Ebola.”
“What?” Through the glass his gaze met hers. “You’re kidding.”
“No.” She shook her head, and his chin brushed her scalp. “I didn’t know what it was, but on the news they talked about an outbreak in Kikwit. I thought they said Kennewick. My aunt Mae and I had visited her parents in Kennewick the week before, and I thought for sure I was a goner.” She thought about the night Geraldine had been liquored up and talked about Sean as a boy. “People think hypochondria is funny, but it’s not if you have to live with a hypochondriac.”
“Tell me about it.”
She waited for him to say more. When he didn’t she said, “I can only imagine how hard it might have been to be raised by Geraldine.”
He took a step back and dropped his hands. “I raised myself, Lexie.”
She turned to face him. “You did a fairly good job.”
“Fairly?”
Her lips twisted in a smile. “Well, you’re kind of obnoxious, but you’re an okay hockey player.”
“I’m more than okay,” he corrected her, but he didn’t dispute being obnoxious. “I started playing late, compared to other boys, but I caught up and kicked ass. Now no one puts goals in the net like I do.” He turned and said over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen, “I won the Art Ross trophy two years in a row.”
“Not to brag or anything.”
He pulled two bottles of Vitamin Water from the refrigerator. “It’s only bragging if you can’t back it up.” He tossed one t
o her. “Otherwise it’s just stating facts.” He unscrewed his cap and tilted the bottle toward her. “I’ve got skills.”
She shrugged a nonchalant shoulder and opened her bottle. “You have a decent wrist shot. I’ll give you that.”
He lowered his water and laughed. “My wrist shot is clocked at a hundred and ten and my slap shot at a hundred and fifteen. Bobby Hull’s slap shot was a hundred and nineteen and big bad John ‘The Wall’ Kowalsky’s was a hundred and five.” He smiled. “But who’s counting.”
“Every NHL player in history.” She took a drink and tried not to make a face. It tasted worse than Gatorade. “My uncle Hugh hated slap shots. He said that no matter how thick the pads or how he stacks ’em, a hundred-mile-an-hour puck hits like cannon fire.”
“The goalie, Hugh Miner?” A wrinkle crossed his brow. “You’re related to him, too?”
“Not by blood. He’s married to my aunt Mae.” She leaned one hip to the granite cooking island and wondered how much to tell Sean. Her life wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something she talked about with just anyone. “Aunt Mae isn’t my aunt by blood, either, but she and my mom are as close as sisters. She helped raise me.” She was talking about it with Sean; she trusted him. From the moment she’d jumped on the Sea Hopper, she’d trusted him. Even when he’d let her believe he was a government spy. “Mae practically lived with Mom and me until I was seven and met my dad.”
His brows lowered and he slowly set his bottle on the counter. “Say that again.”
It was no big deal. At least not anymore, but there had been a time when it had bothered her. “I never met my dad”—she paused to swallow—“my real dad, John Kowalsky, until I was seven.”
The recessed light in the ceiling shone down on Sean’s head and lashes but he didn’t blink as he stared at her.
“It’s kind of a long story,” she said, and looked down at her hands. “And involved and weird . . .” She looked back up and shrugged one shoulder. “Basically, I’m the product of a wild weekend between my mom and a hockey player she met while running away from her wedding to an old guy.” She picked up her water, decided against a drink, and set it back down. “John discovered me when I was seven. My parents married when I was eight, and that’s it.” Except that wasn’t it. Not really. “It’s not a secret but we don’t really talk about it outside the family.”
He finally blinked then said, “Your mother ran away from a wedding to an old guy?”
“Yeah.” He’d been the owner of the Chinooks at the time, but no need to complicate things. “My mom and dad spent what would have been my mother’s honeymoon weekend with someone else, together. Then he dropped her off at the airport without looking back.”
“Wait . . .” Sean held up one hand. “First things first. John didn’t know about you?”
“Not until I was seven.”
“You all seem so close. Like you have the perfect family and live perfect lives.”
“We’re far from perfect.” Especially her. “We’re close now.” But there had been several teen years when she’d acted out of anger toward her mother. “I used to be really jealous of my younger sister and brother because they always knew my dad from the time they were born and I didn’t. I acted out and got into trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Sneaking out. Driving my parents’ car when they were out of town.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“I didn’t have a driver’s license.” She took a breath and let it out. “Now you know all my secrets.”
“I doubt that.” He laughed and took her hand in his. “Don’t you think it’s ironic as hell that both you and your mother ran away from weddings? Her from an old guy and you from Pete.”
More than he knew. Her mother had jumped in a car with a hockey player, Lexie aboard a seaplane.
“And you both spent your honeymoons with men other than your fiancés?”
“I guess we’re alike.” They’d both run from men they didn’t love, only to fall smack-dab into it with men who didn’t love them back. “My mom and dad have been married almost twenty years now, so it worked out for them, I guess. I got a little sister and brother whom I love very much.” Now. She waited for him to judge her or her mother and father. Some people did. Instead he put his hands on her shoulders and smiled down into her face.
“I finally have a brother,” he said. “But I think my mother is more fond of Buddy than she ever was of me.”
He hadn’t judged her and she fell even more in love with him.
“I’m sure that’s not true.” She thought a moment, then added, “Although I wouldn’t bet a lot of money on it. Buddy is very cute and better groomed than you.” Placing bets reminded her of the Chinooks fund-raiser. “Do you want to meet me at the Biscuit in the Basket?” she asked as if they were a regular couple on a regular date. “You have a game against Anaheim that afternoon. It might be easier.”
“I’ll pick you up.” He pulled her close and rested his forehead against hers. “You think my brother is better groomed?” Obviously he wasn’t through with the Buddy topic.
“Are you fishing for a compliment?”
“Maybe.” His silent laughter touched her face. “I’ve never been compared to a three-legged dog.”
“You’re cute and fairly well groomed.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled. “But Buddy is better behaved.”
“I behave when I want to behave.” He lifted her chin and said against her lips, “And right now, I don’t want to behave.”
She opened her mouth for his kiss. It warmed her all over and made her heart beat hard in her chest. She loved him, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it except hope that maybe he’d love her, too.
She followed him to his bedroom and poured her heart into every kiss from her mouth and touch of her hand. Her love spread like fire through her, burning up her chest and pooling in the pit of her stomach.
“I’m going to make love to you,” he said as he stripped her naked and pushed her down on his bed. All she heard was the word “love” and her heart answered, Yes.
“You’re all I’ve thought about all day.” He slid his tongue across her tight nipple, then raised his head and looked into her eyes. “I think I’m addicted.”
He slid into her, hard and massive, and she closed her eyes. Her pulse beat so hard she couldn’t hear above her pounding heart. She kissed him and touched him and made love to him with her body. This time was different than the times before. This time her heart and soul were involved, consuming her, overriding every thought in her head but him. “Sean,” she gasped as the first flush of orgasm gathered between her legs and burned her inside and out. “Sean.”
“Talk to me, Lexie.” He pushed her further, harder, and a hell of a lot hotter. “Talk to me, princess.”
“Oh God!” She arched her back as a second orgasm scorched the first. “Don’t stop.” Her eyes popped open and she thought she might die from pleasure. “I love you, Sean.”
Only after their breathing calmed and the sweat on their skin chilled did she realize what she’d said.
“Sex with you gets better every time,” he said, and rolled to lie next to her. “You’re amazing.”
That wasn’t the response she expected to her blurting that she loved him. She was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Did you hear me?”
He closed his eyes. “Hmm,” he sighed with content.
“Did you hear me say I love you?”
“Yeah. That’s just your orgasm talking. It happens sometimes during good sex.”
Not to her. “Has it happened to you?”
“Hmm.”
He sounded like he was about to fall asleep, and she elbowed him. “Has it happened to you?”
“No, but orgasms don’t make me emotional.”
She sat up and looked down into his closed eyes. “Really?”
“Don’t worry about it. Women just get caught up in the glow
.” He yawned. “We’ll forget it happened by morning.”
Impossible. “I’m not caught up in anything, and I know the difference between love and glow. My attic isn’t dusty. Remember?”
“We can talk about it later.” He cracked an eye open. “Why don’t you curl up next to me?”
“You don’t believe me.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but she had, and he didn’t believe her. He wanted to dismiss her like the other women he’d been with who’d suffered from “glow.” She scooted to the end of the bed and reached for her underwear. She knew he didn’t love her. The little tear in her heart made her realize that she’d hoped he felt the same, but she didn’t expect it. Nor did she expect to be treated like just another woman who’d said she loved him. She wasn’t special and didn’t know why she expected more.
He cracked open both eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Why the rush?” he said through another yawn. “I’ll take you in the morning.”
“I’ll call a cab.” She hooked her bra and reached for her shirt on the floor.
That got his attention and he sat up. “What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed.”
“I can see that. Why?”
She had to leave. To get away. As fast as possible before she slugged him and burst into tears, undoubtedly like all the other women. This was her fault. She’d fallen in love with a man who was only pretending to love her.
“You’re better than this, Lexie.” He gathered the sheet around him and stood. “You’re better than the women who get mad and act this way.”
She’d thought so, too. She guessed not.
He paused as if struck with thought. “Are you about to start your period?”
The Art of Running in Heels Page 21