Finally, his lips sought mine, and he kissed me. The tongue that slid into my mouth was possessive, demanding, and my lips parted for him eagerly. I lifted a hand and dug it into his long, unruly hair, almost surprised at how soft it was. His kisses warmed me and made the ache between my legs that much more intense. The hand that had been playing with my nipples was moving south now, sliding under the waistband of my leggings, and my thighs parted before I could stop myself.

  His warm hand moved along my hip bone, across the top of my bikini line, and then down, covering my mound. I wasn’t wearing panties, so his touch was electric, searing my skin though he’d barely touched me. One finger had slipped between my folds, lightly stroking my most intimate place.

  “You’re wet for me,” he murmured against my mouth. “Did that happen when I was playing with your breasts or when you were watching everything going on around us?”

  “Both,” I whispered back. “Please don’t stop.”

  “Open for me, baby doll.”

  I spread my thighs wider, careful not to jostle my boot, which was resting on the ottoman. Decker adjusted us slightly so most of my weight rested on him, and then pressed the tip of his finger inside of me.

  It felt exquisite. So much so I arched into his hand, wanting more, anxious for him to keep going. He moved in and out painstakingly slowly, stroking up and down and around, spreading my arousal.

  “So warm and tight,” he said. “Can you imagine what it’s going to feel like when it’s my cock instead of my finger?”

  I groaned. My brain had already gone there, knowing how good it would feel to have him inside of me. If he could work me up like this with just his fingers, I knew the rest would be magnificent. Even if he couldn’t get me off, this felt so good, I never wanted it to end. I’d learned to accept the good parts of sex, knowing I’d inevitably be left wanting. With Decker, I didn’t even care.

  “Don’t start thinking,” he said. “Close your eyes and feel. Give me control and let me figure out what makes you hot.”

  “You,” I murmured. “You make me hot—oh!” I gasped as he touched my clit.

  “There it is. Soft and puffy and ready for some attention.” Decker’s voice was low and deep, without a doubt the sexiest sound I’d ever heard. And what he was doing between my legs was even sexier. His fingers were firm but gentle, sliding through my slickness and then circling my clit with feathery strokes.

  “More,” I whispered.

  “More? Or harder?”

  “Yes.”

  He chuckled, increasing pressure as he pinched my clit between two fingers. I sighed, loving how he seemed to know exactly what I needed. Where had men like this been all my life?

  When he pressed two fingers inside of me and started to fuck me, my vision blurred. My head fell back against his shoulder and one of my hands found its way to his forearm, gripping it tightly.

  “Decker…”

  “Yeah, baby doll… Is that the spot?”

  “God, yes, fuck… don’t stop.” An unfamiliar coiling in my belly told me I was on the verge of exploding, but nothing had ever felt like this before. I shifted, bending my uninjured leg at the knee to open wider and give him better access. He had two fingers inside of me while the heel of his palm pressed against my clit.

  “I bet if I stuck my finger in your ass, you’d scream like a banshee,” he murmured, somehow rubbing my clit and finger fucking me at the same time.

  My world went white, then red, and I might have screamed. I’d never made a sound during sex before, but this was out of my control. It felt like I was gushing liquid as I spasmed around his hand. I didn’t know what that was, and when he increased the pressure on my clit it forced me over the edge a second time, each aftershock making me shudder.

  “Now that’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time,” he whispered, one arm still tightly wrapped around me while those two wicked fingers continued to stroke and tease me, keeping me in a state of arousal.

  “Decker, please… It’s too much.” My voice was a soft whine since I barely had the energy to move, much less speak after back-to-back orgasms.

  He gently removed his hand from my leggings and held it up, my juices glistening on his fingers.

  “See that?” He put them in his mouth and sucked on them. A moment later he held them out to me, and I hesitated. “Go on. Taste yourself. Sample what I’m going to taste when I eat your pussy.”

  I groaned, opening my mouth for him.

  “Lick them clean,” he whispered. “That’s so hot, Eden. God, you’re so fucking beautiful and sexy.”

  “Mmm.” It was the only sound I could make, and I whimpered in distress when he finally pulled his fingers free of my lips.

  “Don’t worry, baby doll. Next time, I’ll have something better for you to suck on.”

  “Decker.” I collapsed into his chest, completely limp. “How did you…” I couldn’t articulate my thoughts; I was that wrung out.

  “You just needed someone to take control.” He stroked my hair. “And someone who was paying attention. You’re not actually vanilla at all. You need a little dominance, maybe a spanking one of these days. But mostly you needed a man who took the time to find out what you needed.”

  Those were a lot of words I wasn’t ready to think about. I wanted to protest, that I would never want to be spanked, but it felt like too much effort. And frankly, after this, it was obvious I had no idea what I wanted or needed when it came to sex.

  But Decker did.

  And that was exciting.

  Except I couldn’t think about it right now.

  If I allowed myself to delve into what was happening between us, I’d probably run straight to the airport without looking back. Because I wasn’t in a position to catch feelings again. Not with a guy who lived in another country and who was a notorious playboy. I’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.

  I just couldn’t think about it right now.

  Nope.

  I was going to enjoy the hell out of the time we had.

  This night. This trip. Whatever it turned out to be.

  The rest was for when I was back home, alone in my family’s ancestral mansion, contemplating the next fifty years or so.

  We sat there for a long time, his arms around me, occasionally kissing my temple or stroking my hair. Mostly I wanted to be close to him, revel in his touch, and keep myself from going down a dark, emotional road. I was blown away by how easy it had been for him to get me off, but since I didn’t want to think about the reasons I simply let myself be.

  “Let’s go clean up,” he suggested after a while. “Then we can get another drink or head out. Whatever you want.”

  “I’m tired,” I admitted. “But you’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. For ten days.”

  “The timing is bullocks.”

  “Actually, the timing is perfect.”

  I blinked up at him, a sliver of hurt shooting through me. “Er… what?”

  “Not because I don’t want to spend time with you,” he said softly, his eyes meeting mine as if he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. “But because this will give us time to get to know each other some more without the distraction of wanting to get naked. We can talk and text while I’m gone, and make sure this is something we want to pursue before we go any further.”

  Something we want to pursue.

  Before we go any further?

  Like sex? Because I was a million percent ready for more sex.

  “I want to get to know you,” I admitted. “I didn’t come to Vegas expecting to meet someone, and it scares me a bit, but I like you. A lot.”

  “I like you too. But there are things we should talk about when—”

  I interrupted by putting a finger on his lips. “No. Please. My past is so fucking messy, and it sounds like you have some shit in yours as well. For now, can we take one day at a time, starting with a clean slate? I don’t want to go into something new by continuing to drag my baggage with me.”

  Decker suddenly looked hesitant, turning to stare at something off in the distance. “We can’t escape our pasts, baby doll. They’re part of us, like it or not.”

  “I don’t want to escape it. I simply want us to start fresh. Once we’ve gotten a foothold, then we can talk about those things that hurt us, whatever they may be. What difference can a few weeks make? The past is still there waiting for us, like you said. Can we do it my way, Decker? Please?”

  He stared at me again, those stunning blue eyes piercing mine. “For a little while, doll. You’re going home in a month or two, though, so our time is limited.”

  “And maybe that’s all the time we’re going to have,” I whispered. “For the last year, all I’ve wanted was to run away and become someone else. Someone without baggage and guilt and painful memories. Now I have the chance.”

  “Be careful what you wish for, baby doll. The past has a way of catching up to us, no matter how far or fast we run, you know? But I like the idea of starting with a clean slate. And then, if we decide we want to spend more time together, we can figure out the rest.”

  I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

  He got me.

  And maybe I understood him better than he thought as well.

  Everyone had a past.

  It was simply a matter of figuring out what to do with it.

  14

  Decker

  Walking Eden inside, helping her get settled, and then leaving had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. It was the right thing at this stage, but more difficult than I’d anticipated. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve taken her home with me and fucked her long and hard until she couldn’t remember her inability to orgasm or any other man before me.

  But I hadn’t.

  Because I couldn’t.

  Because she was different. Special. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I wanted her.

  And that could be a problem.

  We should have been doing so much more than kissing and touching last night. There should have been talking and bonding and soul-baring, mating our hearts the way our bodies inevitably would. The kinds of things two people who were falling in love did. If I were a different man, with a different past. So I stuck with what I knew. Kissing and touching and all things carnal. That was what I did. All I could do. To escape the past, my family, and of course, to protect Kristy.

  Kristy.

  Shit.

  We hadn’t talked in a while. I needed to call, check in, make sure everything was copasetic on her end.

  Not today, though.

  We were flying to Seattle and would play a handful of teams over the next week before heading home. We’d be in Vegas for a week, followed by a short trip to California before the All-Star break, and that was what was on my mind. Typically, I’d head out of the country with my buddies. Usually somewhere warm and tropical where we’d party and decompress.

  This year, I was thinking about taking Eden somewhere. Her boot might be off by then, so she might want to lie on a beach, making love all day. I had so many things to show her. Watching her get off had been so fucking hot.

  Christ, I had it bad for her.

  This hadn’t happened in a long time.

  And I hadn’t even had sex with her yet. Not really.

  That was probably my first mistake.

  Hit it and quit had been my mantra for so long for a reason.

  Now I thought about nothing but Eden.

  I’d only been gone a day, and I already missed her.

  We’d talked on the phone last night until I fell asleep and had already texted today before the morning skate. She’d said she would be watching the game tonight, and that actually made me nervous. Other than a few high-stakes playoff games, I never got nervous.

  I was so fucked.

  “Where are you rushing off to?” Anton asked as we got off the bus to go back to our hotel rooms for the usual pre-game naps.

  “Just going to close my eyes for a bit,” I lied.

  The fucker actually laughed.

  “Yeah, that’s bullshit, and we both know it. Who’s the woman? Is it that friend of Daisy’s?”

  I grunted. “Maybe.”

  “What’s wrong? You like her too much or not enough?”

  “I don’t know,” I grumbled. “I don’t like liking women.”

  This time he belly-laughed, and I punched him in the stomach as we got on the elevator. He only laughed harder, holding his stomach, and shaking his head.

  “Fuck you,” I muttered.

  He didn’t say anything since a few of our teammates were on the elevator with us, but he followed me toward my room once we got off.

  “What?” I asked, scowling. “You planning to hold my hand while I nap?”

  “Sounds like you need it,” he quipped. “If you don’t want to talk about Eden, fine, but we have to talk about the house.”

  “Christ. All right, come on.” I unlocked my door, and he followed me inside, sitting on a chair as I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on the bed. “So what’s going on?”

  “We’re going to sell it.”

  I froze.

  “Seriously?”

  “Dad and Tessa are probably never coming back to Vegas, and if they do, it won’t be for years, so they won’t need a house that big.” His father and his young family had moved to Florida after his father had become the head coach of the Lauderdale Knights. Anton had moved into the house, and I’d become his roommate, but then everything changed when he married Sasha.

  “I don’t know if you’re interested in buying it,” he said after a moment. “If not, we’re going to put it on the market. I just thought I’d offer it to you first, that way you could have a say in the new flooring and appliances we have to replace.”

  I hesitated. “What the hell would I do with a six-bedroom, six-bathroom house?” I asked, though it was mostly rhetorical.

  “Same thing you do with it now? Get a couple of roommates to pay the mortgage so you have a solid investment that costs you almost nothing?”

  He had a point.

  But it seemed like such a fucking grown-up thing to do.

  And I’d never felt like much of a grown-up.

  I had money, though. Lots of it. Just piling up in the bank accounts my accountants and money managers handled for me. I didn’t pay a ton of attention to it, beyond quarterly statements. As long as I had what I needed in my checking account, and my investments were growing, it was just money.

  “You want to talk about anything?” Anton asked when I’d apparently waited too long to respond. “You’ve been different lately. Is something going on?”

  I shook my head. “Nah. Just the same old shit.” If anyone knew a tiny bit about my life it was Anton. When he and Sasha had gotten together, the royal family had done a deep dive into Anton, including anyone and everyone close to him. Which included me. He’d apologetically told me there was a chance someone, somewhere, was doing a background check, and I’d understood. I’d simply told him that anything he discovered had to stay between us. He’d never brought it up again and neither had I.

  “There’s no pressure to buy the house,” he said after a moment. “I just wanted to offer it to you first. Once the renovation is done, it will probably sell quick, so I wanted to give you a head’s up so you can start looking.”

  Christ.

  The last thing I wanted was to move.

  “How much?” I asked suddenly.

  He stared at me for a second before getting into some numbers to do with the current real estate market, the neighborhood, and association fees since it was in a gated community. The cost of the house wasn’t a big deal—I could pay for it cash—but the other stuff was more than I was used to spending. More than a grand a month just in association fees, property taxes, and of course, upkeep. It wasn’t about how much I could afford I realized as I mulled it over, but about how diligent I’d been about not putting down roots.

  Yes, I played pro hockey, so there was an element of settling down in the city where I played, but I could get traded at any time. If it happened today, it would take me about an hour to pack most of my shit, and the biggest concern I’d have would be shipping my car. I’d lived that way since I’d been drafted, and the idea of having a home was foreign to me.

  “What’s going on?” Anton asked when I’d been quiet too long for the second time. “Talk to me, man. I thought we were friends?”

  “We are.” I shrugged. “Look, I left home a long time ago, and my goal has been to stay fluid. Go where hockey takes me and not worry about anything else. Like a home.” I cleared my throat. “Or a woman.”

  “How is some chick you’ve known, like, two weeks, spinning you out like this?” he asked, squinting a little. “She’s hot. Seems like a nice girl. Definitely someone I can picture you with, but you’ve only been with her a few times, right? I’m sure the sex is great, but—”

  I shook my head quickly. “There hasn’t been any. Just some foreplay and kissing type of stuff.”

  He stared at me. “You haven’t slept with her? How come? She a virgin?”

  I chuckled. “No. Just, uh, hasn’t happened yet, and apparently, I’ve decided to be chivalrous and not rush. Make a single joke and you die.” I eyed him.

  He swallowed, obviously fighting back laughter. “Jesus Christ. You’re scared.”

  “I’m not scared to have sex with her,” I snapped.

  “No, of course not. You’re scared you’re falling for her, and sex will just amp that up.”

  “I don’t even know her,” I said, sitting up and throwing up my hands. “Like, yes, we’ve talked and hung out in a group and then spent some time together the other night, but… I don’t know anything about her. And she wants it that way. She won’t even tell me the story about her and that creepy ex of hers. She said she has baggage and wants us to start with a clean slate or some bullshit. I bought into it, and now I can’t think about anything but her. Us. Like, hey, maybe I should buy your house. You know, in case I fall in love with her, so I have a home for us. What the fuck did I just say?”

 

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