Game On Box Set: Time Out\Her Man Advantage\Face-Off\Body Check Read online

  And his momentary lack of confidence vanished like a puck disappearing into his opponent’s net. Slam. Gone.

  He stepped back over to the bed and slipped a hand to her knee. And then higher. She huffed out a helpless sigh and let her thighs part for him. He took his time, teasing his way up, higher, slipping the silk up her thighs so she would feel the cool air on her skin. Her panties weren’t more than a scrap of silk and lace, but it was kind of a turn-on being buck naked while she was still fully dressed.

  He played his fingers over the silk, and found it warm and damp with her arousal. She arched up against him, making a tiny sound in the back of her throat. He said in a conversational tone—as cool as he could manage under the circumstances, “Do you mind if I take these off?”

  A tiny, helpless moan slipped out of her mouth. The corners of his mouth kicked up, but that was the only indication he gave that he’d heard her.

  He looked down at her and her eyes were alive with anticipation. They were going to be so good together. Sometimes you just knew.

  He wanted to take his time but need was stoking him. He hooked his thumbs under the little strings at the side of her panties and eased them down.

  He slowly stroked his way up her inner thigh. Her skin was so soft and velvety. There was a tiny mole on her inner thigh that he had to stop and kiss.

  “I don’t want to mess up this pretty dress,” he said to her. “Do you think we could take if off?”

  She nodded. No words at all, simply a nod. He liked the idea that he’d robbed her of words.

  She sat up and together they peeled the black dress over her head. To his shock he discovered there was no bra under there. Wow.

  Her breasts were small and perfect. He loved the muscles of her, taut under her soft skin. The glint of the heavy silver pendant against her delicate body, more flashes of silver at her ears and wrist. He ran a hand down from her shoulder over her breasts, her belly, to her hip.

  “You are perfect,” he told her.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Shush.” Because she was, to him she was absolutely perfect and he wasn’t taking any arguments.

  He settled down beside her, “Now, where was I?”

  * * *

  IN ANSWER, BECKY OPENED her legs wider, shocked at her own forward behavior. Usually she let the guy lead, but somehow, with Taylor she enjoyed their back-and-forth bossiness. It worked on the ice and she had a feeling it was going to work really well in the bedroom.

  Besides, she was throbbing with anticipation to feel his fingers play over her. She could see his hands as she’d watched them so many times, sturdy, capable hands that could stick-handle a puck down the ice and into the net but could also touch her with such sensitivity. He seemed to hover over her neediest place, and then, when she expected him to stroke her, he ran his fingers through her curls as though checking for tangles. He stroked and patted, and then, when he delved deeper to where she was slick and needy, her hot button already quivering, it was a shock to find him touching her there, stroking her, stoking her.

  Desperate. Had she ever been so desperate for a man in her life? It was as though every minute they’d spent together had been foreplay for this moment. She was so ready she thought she’d fly apart the second he touched her.

  She wanted to hold on and enjoy every exquisite moment as he stroked her, obviously taking pleasure in her growing excitement, encouraging her with soft words until she shattered against him.

  Her urgency slaked, she wanted more, she wanted all of him. But she didn’t have to tell him that. He was already reaching for his nightstand drawer.

  A rip and a rustle and then they were kissing, more hungrily than before. His skin was warm against hers. His heart beat a crazy rhythm. Unable to wait another second, she climbed over and straddled him. He was a big man, but she was lithe and fit and her body had never felt so athletic, so perfectly tuned for action, as it did at this moment.

  He felt warm and very, very hard when she grasped him in hand. He made a tiny sound, a man at the end of his rope, a feeling she knew well. Her body was stretched over him, eager and wet and so very hungry.

  As she positioned him at the entrance to her body, their gazes locked. She saw the glow of his eyes in a face that was surprisingly serious. He’d always seemed to her like a carefree, everything’s-for-fun-and-why-bother-getting-stressed kind of guy. But as she’d come to know him through practice she realized she’d misjudged him. He worked as hard as she did, was equally intent and focused when they trained. It was only when the work was done that he let his crazy fun side out.

  But this wasn’t the crazy fun guy. This was a man letting her see into his depths. She tried to be as brave and held his gaze with her own as she lowered herself slowly onto him.

  “Take it easy, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Would he hurt her? Maybe. She realized it was a chance she was taking, but he wasn’t hurting her physically. Not at all.

  Oh, she realized it had been a while and he was a big man. The stretch was amazing. Delicious. He seemed to go on and on, filling her completely. When they were locked, hip to hip, she took a moment to savor the deep connection, kissing him as though she’d never stop and then need took over. She moved on him, slowly at first as she accustomed herself to him, then faster as instinct and desire stronger than anything she’d ever known gripped her.

  Her silver necklace, an expensive designer piece she’d bought herself after her medal win, danced between them. For a crazy moment she imagined this as a medal performance and knew they were going for gold.

  His hands were all over her, squeezing her breasts, tracing the lines of her belly, grabbing her hips. Her thighs gripped as she rode him in a frenzied rush. They kissed deep and hard and with little finesse. He grabbed her hips at last when the thrusting grew so wild he had to hold on to keep up. She heard panting and knew it was hers.

  He muttered words of encouragement, some incoherent as passion built.

  Then their words were lost as they kissed deeply and hungrily, the bed bouncing in an age-old rhythm, as they launched each other over the edge of the world.

  “Oh,” she managed. And she slumped over him, damp and spent.

  She felt his mouth kissing her shoulder, his hands stroking slowly down her back. For a long time they stayed like that, bodies still connected, hearts thumping while they caught their breath.

  She felt the way she did when she was launched high in the air and knew that every part of her was in perfect harmony. As though she could fly.

  6

  “NO ONE CAN KNOW about this.”

  Taylor blinked open sleepy eyes, still heavy from last night’s pleasures.

  Never at his best in the morning, he ran his tongue over his teeth. Blinked a few times. Said, “Huh?”

  Becky looked adorable in the morning. Tousled, her face pinker on one side where she’d slept on it, a little redness on the upper slope of her breast making him feel bad that he’d given her whisker burn.

  She followed the direction of his gaze then yanked the navy cotton sheet up to hide her breasts from his gaze, which seemed kind of cruel. “I said, no one can know about this,” she repeated.

  Where was the passionate, incredible woman of last night? He heard the same ice-princess tone that she’d treated him to the first day they’d met.

  But underneath that, he also heard urgency and appeal in her voice and wondered what the big deal was.

  It’s not that he was planning to take out an ad in the Vancouver Sun or plaster their exploits online. And he wasn’t the kind of guy who boasted in bars.

  He reached over and put his hand over hers where it clutched the sheet. “Not the first thought I had when I woke up.” He watched the pink bloom deeper under her fair skin. He leaned closer, put his lips to the soft place under her jaw where a pulse beat. “Want to know what my first thought was?”

  A tiny purring noise emanated from her throat. She’d s