“Wait, you’re getting married?” she says in confusion.
It’s kind of amusing that out of everything I said, that’s the bit she’s harping on. I smooth a hand down the outside of her arm and loosely circle her wrist with my fingers. “In the future, darlin’. In the future.”
“Oh.” She picks up her beer and then puts it down when she sees it’s empty. “Wait. You want to get married?”
“Eventually.” I chuckle at her astonishment. “Not today, but yeah, one day I want to be married and have a kid or three. You?”
The bartender comes by, and I nudge another twenty in his direction.
But Sabrina shakes her head. “I’m driving. One beer is my limit.”
I order us waters instead, and he’s back in a flash with two tall glasses.
The lights flicker again, sending a jolt of urgency to my gut. I’m going to have to close this deal soon or lose out entirely.
“Thanks,” she says as she sips the water. “And, no. I don’t see myself having kids or a husband in the near future. Besides, I thought you hockey players liked to play the field.”
“At some point, even the great ones retire.” I smirk over the top of my glass.
She laughs. “All right. I’ll give you that. So what’s your major, John?”
“Tucker. Everyone calls me Tucker or Tuck. And it’s business admin.”
“So you can manage all your hockey money?”
I still haven’t let go of her wrist, and with each exchange, I’m eliminating all the distance between us.
“Nope.” I nod toward my knee. “I’m too slow for the pros. I got banged up in high school. I’m good enough for a scholarship here, but I know my limits.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” There’s true regret in her voice.
Dean’s a fool. This girl is as sweet as they come. I can’t wait to get my mouth on her.
And my hands.
And my teeth.
And my hard-as-steel cock.
“Don’t be. I’m not.”
I slide my arm along the bar until Sabrina’s essentially standing in the circle of my arms. Her feet are tucked between mine, and if I shift my hips slightly forward, I’ll be able to make the contact my body is dying for. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all the years I’ve played hockey, it’s that patience is rewarded. You don’t take an immediate shot when your stick gets the puck. You wait for the right opening.
“I never really wanted it,” I add. “And I think it’s one of those things you have to really want to pursue.”
And then she gives it to me. The opening. “So what do you want these days?”
“You,” I answer baldly.
Two things happen. The lights go out completely and she nearly drops her glass. The jukebox dies out and suddenly the bar seems way too quiet. Around us are a few shrieks of laughter, a few shouts of dismay.
“Keep your pants on, children,” one of the bartenders yells. “We’re going to see what’s going on. Generator should kick in any second.”
As if on cue, a humming noise fills the air and then a dim glow of light illuminates the crowded room.
“You still thirsty?” I ask, stroking the inside of her wrist with long, gentle strokes. Up toward the inner elbow and back down to the wrist. Repeat. Again and again and again.
Her gaze drops to our joined hands and widen as if she just now realizes we’ve been touching for the last ten minutes or so. I lean in close and brush my nose against the outer edge of her earlobe, filling my lungs with her spicy scent.
I could stand here all day. There’s something great about drawing out the anticipation until it’s nearly painful. It makes the release all the more explosive. I have a feeling that sex with Sabrina James will blow my mind.
I can’t fucking wait.
After taking a deep breath, one that pushes her perfect tits into my chest, she eases back—not too far, but enough to create a sliver of distance.
“I’m not into relationships,” she says bluntly. “If we do this—”
“Do what?” I can’t help but tease.
“This. Don’t play dumb, Tucker. You’re better than that.”
A laugh pops out. “Fair enough. All right…” I wave a hand. “Go on…”
“If we do this,” she repeats, “it’s sex only. No awkward morning after. No phone numbers.”
I give her one last caress before releasing her, letting her read into my silence what she needs to. I highly doubt that one time is going to be enough for either of us, but if that’s what she needs to believe tonight, I’m okay with that.
“Let’s go then.”
Her lips curve. “Now?”
“Now.” I moisten my bottom lip with my tongue. “Unless you want to sit here a while longer and keep dancing around the fact that we want to rip each other’s clothes off.”
She lets out a throaty laugh that goes straight to my balls. “Very good point, Tucker.”
Lord. I love the way my name rolls off those full, pouty lips. Maybe I’ll ask her to say it when I’m making her come.
The need surging through me is so strong I have to squeeze my ass cheeks together and breathe through my nose to try to curb it. I take Sabrina’s elbow and muscle my way to the door. A few people call out my name or pat me on the back to tell me good game. I ignore them all.
Outside, it’s still pouring. I pull Sabrina close and raise my black-and-silver hockey jacket over her head. Fortunately, my truck is nearby. “Over here.”
“Nice parking spot,” she comments.
“Can’t complain.” It’s a perk of being a starter on a championship-winning college hockey team.
I help her into the truck, then slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine. “Where to?”
She shivers a little, though I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or for another reason. “I live in Boston.”
“My place then.” Because there’s no fucking way I can wait the hour it’ll take to drive to the city. My dick will explode.
She puts her hand on my wrist before I can shift into reverse. “You live with Dean. That’s not going to be uncomfortable for you?”
“No, why would it?”
“I don’t know.” Her index finger slides forward to rub my knuckles.
It’s kind of amusing that out of everything I said, that’s the bit she’s harping on. I smooth a hand down the outside of her arm and loosely circle her wrist with my fingers. “In the future, darlin’. In the future.”
“Oh.” She picks up her beer and then puts it down when she sees it’s empty. “Wait. You want to get married?”
“Eventually.” I chuckle at her astonishment. “Not today, but yeah, one day I want to be married and have a kid or three. You?”
The bartender comes by, and I nudge another twenty in his direction.
But Sabrina shakes her head. “I’m driving. One beer is my limit.”
I order us waters instead, and he’s back in a flash with two tall glasses.
The lights flicker again, sending a jolt of urgency to my gut. I’m going to have to close this deal soon or lose out entirely.
“Thanks,” she says as she sips the water. “And, no. I don’t see myself having kids or a husband in the near future. Besides, I thought you hockey players liked to play the field.”
“At some point, even the great ones retire.” I smirk over the top of my glass.
She laughs. “All right. I’ll give you that. So what’s your major, John?”
“Tucker. Everyone calls me Tucker or Tuck. And it’s business admin.”
“So you can manage all your hockey money?”
I still haven’t let go of her wrist, and with each exchange, I’m eliminating all the distance between us.
“Nope.” I nod toward my knee. “I’m too slow for the pros. I got banged up in high school. I’m good enough for a scholarship here, but I know my limits.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” There’s true regret in her voice.
Dean’s a fool. This girl is as sweet as they come. I can’t wait to get my mouth on her.
And my hands.
And my teeth.
And my hard-as-steel cock.
“Don’t be. I’m not.”
I slide my arm along the bar until Sabrina’s essentially standing in the circle of my arms. Her feet are tucked between mine, and if I shift my hips slightly forward, I’ll be able to make the contact my body is dying for. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all the years I’ve played hockey, it’s that patience is rewarded. You don’t take an immediate shot when your stick gets the puck. You wait for the right opening.
“I never really wanted it,” I add. “And I think it’s one of those things you have to really want to pursue.”
And then she gives it to me. The opening. “So what do you want these days?”
“You,” I answer baldly.
Two things happen. The lights go out completely and she nearly drops her glass. The jukebox dies out and suddenly the bar seems way too quiet. Around us are a few shrieks of laughter, a few shouts of dismay.
“Keep your pants on, children,” one of the bartenders yells. “We’re going to see what’s going on. Generator should kick in any second.”
As if on cue, a humming noise fills the air and then a dim glow of light illuminates the crowded room.
“You still thirsty?” I ask, stroking the inside of her wrist with long, gentle strokes. Up toward the inner elbow and back down to the wrist. Repeat. Again and again and again.
Her gaze drops to our joined hands and widen as if she just now realizes we’ve been touching for the last ten minutes or so. I lean in close and brush my nose against the outer edge of her earlobe, filling my lungs with her spicy scent.
I could stand here all day. There’s something great about drawing out the anticipation until it’s nearly painful. It makes the release all the more explosive. I have a feeling that sex with Sabrina James will blow my mind.
I can’t fucking wait.
After taking a deep breath, one that pushes her perfect tits into my chest, she eases back—not too far, but enough to create a sliver of distance.
“I’m not into relationships,” she says bluntly. “If we do this—”
“Do what?” I can’t help but tease.
“This. Don’t play dumb, Tucker. You’re better than that.”
A laugh pops out. “Fair enough. All right…” I wave a hand. “Go on…”
“If we do this,” she repeats, “it’s sex only. No awkward morning after. No phone numbers.”
I give her one last caress before releasing her, letting her read into my silence what she needs to. I highly doubt that one time is going to be enough for either of us, but if that’s what she needs to believe tonight, I’m okay with that.
“Let’s go then.”
Her lips curve. “Now?”
“Now.” I moisten my bottom lip with my tongue. “Unless you want to sit here a while longer and keep dancing around the fact that we want to rip each other’s clothes off.”
She lets out a throaty laugh that goes straight to my balls. “Very good point, Tucker.”
Lord. I love the way my name rolls off those full, pouty lips. Maybe I’ll ask her to say it when I’m making her come.
The need surging through me is so strong I have to squeeze my ass cheeks together and breathe through my nose to try to curb it. I take Sabrina’s elbow and muscle my way to the door. A few people call out my name or pat me on the back to tell me good game. I ignore them all.
Outside, it’s still pouring. I pull Sabrina close and raise my black-and-silver hockey jacket over her head. Fortunately, my truck is nearby. “Over here.”
“Nice parking spot,” she comments.
“Can’t complain.” It’s a perk of being a starter on a championship-winning college hockey team.
I help her into the truck, then slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine. “Where to?”
She shivers a little, though I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or for another reason. “I live in Boston.”
“My place then.” Because there’s no fucking way I can wait the hour it’ll take to drive to the city. My dick will explode.
She puts her hand on my wrist before I can shift into reverse. “You live with Dean. That’s not going to be uncomfortable for you?”
“No, why would it?”
“I don’t know.” Her index finger slides forward to rub my knuckles.
