by Rhonda James
Skilled fingers tease the apex of my thighs, and I whimper with need. A devilish chuckle falls past his lips when he removes his hand to resume kissing me.
“You’re evil,” I tease when we finally break apart.
He shakes his head while cupping my breast with his hand. “Not evil, just patient. Some tasks require extra special attention.”
I throw back my head and laugh at that. “I see. So now I’m a task?”
He dips his head to my breast, his mouth less than an inch away when he smiles and admits. “Baby, you’re right at the top of my to-do list.”
I close my eyes and fall back against the pillows, while he continues to worship my body. By now, I’m so worked up I’m ready to climb him like a tree. His tongue parts my slit, and he quickly takes me over the edge. My climax is so strong I can’t keep from screaming out his praises.
Good God, who knew a man could be so skilled with his mouth.
He crawls up my body to lean over me, not even giving me time to catch my breath before sliding two fingers inside me, moving them gently in and out, while his tongue repeats the gesture inside my mouth. He pumps twice, curling them back toward his chest, then repeats the motion over and over until I’m begging him to fill me.
“No.” His head shakes back and forth and he continues the pleasurable torture. He doesn’t stop until my body is twitching and trembling beneath him. “You’re beautiful when you come. You know that?”
He kneels between my legs, his eyes never leaving mine as he rolls on a condom. This time when he settles between my legs, I lift my hips to meet him. The crown of his swollen cock breaches my opening and he enters, slowly at first, giving my body a chance to acclimate to the welcome intrusion.
“You okay?” he grunts, not moving, because right now, everything feels so tight. So good.
After a few seconds, I begin breathing again and we both begin to move. I lift my body and move my hips in time with his, our rhythm increasing with each thrust. We roll over and I ride him. Meeting what he’s giving me thrust for thrust. He bucks into me with wild abandon. Grunting and moaning. Praising everything from God to Jabba the Hut for the way my body hugs his enormous cock. When I increase my pace, begging him to go deeper, he damn near loses his mind.
“Fuck, Skylar. I’m already worried I’ll break you in half. Are you sure?” he asks before continuing.
“I promise, I’m fine. Please, keep going. You feel so good,” I moan. He thrusts harder. Deeper. Bucking into me with a passion so fierce it only makes me crave him more. I press back against his raised knees, and he gives one final thrust, bottoming out, and I see flashes of light. Beautiful splashes of pink and white. Bliss.
“Scott,” I plead as my body tenses, preparing itself for another orgasm.
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.” He cups my hips with his hands, holding me up. “Let go.” And I come apart again as he stills beneath me, filling me with his own release.
We collapse on the bed, drenched in sweat and blissfully spent from our lovemaking. We lie there, arms and legs tangled together, and he dots my face with kisses.
He falls back against the pillow and tucks me under his arm. “That was insane.”
“Good Lord. Is that what I’ve been missing all these years? Had I known that, I believe I’d have made the trip to Detroit a hell of a lot sooner.” I chuckle against him.
He joins me in laughing but turns serious fast when he rolls me over onto my back and hovers his lips above mine. “Well, Blondie. I’m not going anywhere, so I guess we better get busy making up for lost time.”
SCOTT
I wake before dawn and roll over to find Skylar lying on her side facing me. I watch quietly while she sleeps, studying the way her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes. She looks so peaceful. So much like an angel. As I stare, I find myself thinking about returning to a life without her in it. She’s only in town for a short time; before we know it, she’ll be on a plane bound for Atlanta, and then what? I’ve lost her once, so I know exactly what that feels like. I know we’ve just reconnected, and it’s probably too early to be feeling this way, but I meant what I told her last night. The moment I entered her… she became mine.
I’ve always considered myself a little possessive. It’s not that I’m trying to be a dick. I just like things a certain way. I like being in control and setting the pace. Back when Skylar and I first started dating, I’d been extremely possessive of her. The thought of another guy looking at her, or even thinking of her, used to drive me out of my mind. But Skylar never minded it. She’d never had anyone feel that way about her, so she welcomed my attention. God knows she deserved to have someone looking out for her. Over time, that possessiveness transitioned into protectiveness, and then the thought of anyone hurting her in turn made me want to lash out and hurt someone else.
But what if you’re the one who ends up hurting her? What do you do then?
Answer: You self-destruct.
I smile like a fool when I think of the way she let me hold her last night as she fell asleep. It reminded me so much of times gone by. No one else knew of the emotional turmoil Skylar endured while growing up. When we were kids, I vaguely remember her always sitting off by herself while the rest of us kids played games as a group. In middle school and high school, it had been more of the same. I remember the day I looked at her and saw her. I mean really saw her. For the first time.
It was fifth period History and the whole class had gone to the library to work on an assignment. I’d been sitting with my friends, copying the answers from Tessa Baker’s already completed assignment, when she walked in. I remember that moment, because I saw her and it was as if time stood still. I spent weeks trying to get her to talk to me. She was painfully shy and sometimes tested my patience, but for some crazy reason, I loved bothering her. I knew if I kept bothering her, I’d finally get her to crack. The first time she smiled at my efforts, I knew I had to keep trying. In the end, it had all been worth it.
Skylar stirs, her eyes fluttering open to land on me. She gives me a sleepy smile, and I can’t resist giving her a kiss on the tip of her nose.
“Good morning,” she says softly.
I smile and pat the space next to me for her to fill. “Good morning to you. You sleep well?”
She scoots over and snuggles tightly against my body. “I most certainly did. I’m pretty sure it had something to do with the company. Or maybe it was the sex.” She drags her hand over my hip.
“When we get back to Detroit, we’ll have to test out both of your theories.”
She laughs a happy laugh and gives my arm a squeeze. “I think maybe that could be arranged.”
“What time is your flight?”
“Eleven. What about you?”
“What do you know? Mine’s at eleven, too.” I waggle my brows suggestively. “If we’re on the same flight, maybe we could sneak off to the lavatory and test out your sex theory.”
“Oh, God. I am not having sex with you on an airplane.” She smacks at my arm.
“Good point. You’re pretty noisy in the sack.” I laugh and reach an arm around her waist. This time when she goes for me, I grasp her wrists and roll her over onto her back. With my free hand, I pull down the sheet to reveal her naked body. True to herself, she turns shy now that I’m looking at her in the light of day. I lower my mouth to her parted lips and do my damnedest to quell her insecurities.
CHAPTER 21
SKYLAR
“His office is this way, babe,” Scott says, giving my arm a gentle tug, encouraging me to keep walking, but something catches my eye.
“Hold on.” I slow my stride and pause in front of a large glass display case. “I want to look at this.”
The case is arranged in a timeline, depicting players and various pieces of hockey gear that have changed throughout the years. I move through the earlier years and smile when I reach Scott’s freshmen year team photo. He looks exactly like the boy I remember.
&n
bsp; “Look how young you were,” I call over my shoulder before moving on to the next case.
Scott has always been an amazing goalie, sharp in the crease and quick on the ice. His position doesn’t require him to skate up and down the ice to chase after the puck, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of it. I’m fairly certain he could play any position on the ice. Then again, maybe I am a little biased.
“I look like a baby,” he scoffs from the other side of the room. Undeterred, I continue following the journey of his college career.
There’s a photo of him taken during his sophomore year and he’s on the ice. Brantley is with him and they’re talking. Scott’s mask is up, so I have a clear image of his face. He looks pretty angry, but at the same time I think he looks incredibly handsome in his game jersey; the same jersey that bears a big C on the left side of his chest. It appears he was appointed captain that year. That doesn’t surprise me.
“I was so pissed that night. We were down two and our defense couldn’t get their shit together. I reamed Cage over it, and we came back in the third period to win by one.” He tosses me a wink. “Come on, I want you to meet Coach.”
“One more minute,” I murmur as my eyes land on a photo taken of him earlier this year when he received the Richter Award. A lump forms in my throat when I realize I’ve missed out on all the big moments of his life. For two years, he had someone else by his side to share in these moments. Someone else was there to cheer him on. Pleasure him after a big win. Hold him after a disappointing loss.
He comes over and hugs me from behind. “What is it, Blondie?” His hand goes to my hair, brushing it aside so he can get a better look at my face. “Why are you sad, babe?”
“This.” I stretch my hand over the expanse of glass and lower my voice to a choked whisper. “I’ve missed so much.”
“Hey.” He spins me around to face him. “Try not to think about those things. All that is in the past.”
“No.” I brush a wayward tear from my cheek. “I should have been there.”
“You’re here now,” he says softly, “and that’s what matters.” He tips my chin up to meet his steely gaze. “We both have regrets, but we also had our reasons.”
My heart is beating with so many emotions right now. It’s filled with regret for time wasted. It’s bursting with happiness for the second chance we’ve been given. But it’s also laden with fear over what’s going to happen when my time here comes to an end. In four short days, I return to Atlanta. Where will that leave us? The look on his face tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking. For all I know, his heart may be giving him the same kind of scare, because he does his best to reassure me.
“Hey. We’ve still got four days.” His grip around my waist tightens. “I don’t want to spend them worrying about all the what ifs and what nows.”
“Are we crazy?” I shake my head. “I mean, how are we going to make this work?”
His hands fall to his sides as he steps back and cocks his head, the smile dropping from his face. “You’re serious?”
“Think about it. We live two separate lives. I’m in another state and my job is there. How does this even work?”
Scott’s arms go behind his head, and he looks toward the ceiling and sighs. He doesn’t say anything for a few beats, and then he finally answers. “Skylar, people have long distance relationships all the time and they make it work. I can’t tell you what tomorrow holds. All I can do is promise that whatever it may be, I want us to face it together. For now, let’s just try and focus on today, see where that leads us, and tomorrow will figure itself out.”
“Okay.” I nod, voice ready to crack because of the impact his words have on my already unstable heart. I’m not sure if I’m the luckiest girl in the world or the most gullible. He’s made promises to me in the past and broke nearly every one of them. But this time it feels different. He’s no longer a boy spouting promises to try and win me over. Whether he knows it or not, he won me a long time ago; I’ve just been patiently waiting for him to realize what he so thoughtlessly threw away.
Something in his eyes tells me he has no intention of making the same mistake twice.
***
“Coach, got a minute?” Scott asks after knocking on the open door. The man behind the desk smiles then rises to greet him.
“Son, for you I have at least two.” They both laugh, and I stand back and watch as the two men share an embrace in a way a father would greet his long-lost son. He steps back and his eyes meet mine over Scott’s shoulder. His smile broadens. “Well, who do we have here?”
“Coach Bishop, I’d like you to meet my girl, Skylar Dennison.” Scott beams proudly. The phrase ‘my girl’ rings loudly in my ears.
“Hi.” I grin as I throw up a hand in a wave.
Coach makes his way over with laughter still dancing in his warm, brown eyes. “Skylar, it’s a pleasure to meet you. This guy calls me Coach, but you can call me Kevin.” He takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “So, how do you know this troublemaker?” Kevin winks at me, while Scott’s eyes roll toward the ceiling.
“We used to date back in high school.” I smirk.
“Aha, so you knew him when?” Kevin chuckles and leans against his desk. “Tell me, Skylar, do you live in the area?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I live in Atlanta. I’m a writer for PLAY magazine, and I’m in town doing a feature on Scott and Brantley Cage.”
“She doesn’t just write for the magazine,” Scott chimes in. “Skylar’s also an amazing photographer. Her photos are featured in every issue.” When he catches the surprised look on my face, he merely shrugs his shoulder and smiles.
To say I’m flattered would be an understatement. I had no idea he’s seen any of my work, let alone that he felt this way about it.
“Is that so?” Kevin asks, turning his attention back to me. “Are you coming to the charity skate this Saturday?”
I walk over to Scott and thread my hand in his. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s been a while since I’ve seen this guy in action; I’m anxious to see if he’s still got it.” I give him a nudge with my hip, and he responds by pulling me in tightly against him.
“Oh, I’ve still got it. I’ve got moves you’ve never seen,” his voice growls, and I can’t help feeling we’re no longer talking about his skills in front of the net.
Coach clears his throat, and I feel like we’ve just been caught doing something naughty. “Are the helmets going to be done in time?”
“Oh, yeah. I took them to Gary at Wicked Saves Designs. He promised to have them ready by Friday afternoon,” Scott informs Kevin.
“What design are you having done, and what exactly are the helmets being used for?” I ask with great interest.
“I’m having three helmets custom painted to be identical to the helmet I wore while I played for GLU, only these ones will also bear the Richter Award logo. Two of the helmets will be auctioned off at the event on Saturday.”
“Scott has a huge following of younger players. These kids look up to him and all the other players who dedicate their time running summer clinics and helping to raise money so these kids can afford to play. Hockey is an expensive sport for parents to take on. Those helmets could easily bring in five thousand a piece, which will go a long way to helping these kids,” Kevin adds.
“That’s amazing, Scott.” I beam with pride. “But you mentioned three helmets. What are you doing with the third?”
Scott takes a deep breath and gives my hand a warm squeeze. “I’m giving it to one of the kids we’re trying to raise money for. He used to play and shared the same dream as me, only he was injured in an ATV rollover accident earlier this summer. His leg was badly crushed, and he’s already undergone two surgeries to repair it. As it stands, he may never have the chance to see that dream come true.” His voice goes off to barely a whisper, and my heart aches so badly for him in this moment that I find myself hugging him right in front of Coach Kevin.
“You have a mighty big heart, Scott Rivers. In my opinion, that young man couldn’t have chosen a better role model.” He cups my face in his hands and lowers his lips to mine. The kiss is sweet but laced with need, and when we break apart, his eyes open and it’s hard to miss the dampness trapped in his lashes.
“Coach, you think I can get some ice time with my girl?”
***
Kevin arranged it so we could get an hour on the ice before we make the drive back to Detroit. It’s been a few years since I’ve worn a pair of skates, but Scott assures me it’s just like riding a bike. That’s easy for him to say seeing as how he’s spent his entire life on a narrow blade. Even though I’m not a seasoned pro, I think I can manage to get around the ice without breaking a leg.
At the moment, Scott is kneeling at my feet, lacing up a pair of skates he borrowed from the equipment room.
“See,” he says, looping the laces around the hooks, “the trick is to make sure you get the laces nice and tight. But not too tight. If they’re too tight, not only will they hurt your shins, but you also won’t be able to move across the ice properly. On the other hand, if the laces are too loose, you’ll have too much wiggle room, and that’s not good, either.”
I chew on my bottom lip while watching him work. “I guess it’s a good thing I have you to do it for me. I’d hate to have too much wiggle room.” I giggle.
He finishes the task and walks forward on his knees, filling the space between my legs. Calloused hands toy with the hem of my shirt before slipping inside to tease up my sides. “It’s definitely a good thing I’m here. I take your safety very seriously.” Our lips meet, and he wastes no time sliding his tongue inside to dance erotically with mine. Within seconds, the heat between us shifts from warm to dangerously high levels as the kiss intensifies and we both moan. With one hand under my ass and the other cupping the back of my head, he pulls me forward until we’re both on the floor and I’m straddling his lap. At first, it’s not very comfortable because of the ice skates, but the moment he rocks his pelvis up and into me, I forget all about the discomfort in my knees and focus on the sensation building between my legs.