He claimed her mouth again, and she ran her hands over his arms, feeling his muscles move and flex beneath her fingertips. His erection pressed against her, cradled between her thighs.
How many times after high school had she replayed their one time together? The truth was she’d never completely put him behind her.
When the kiss broke off, she touched his cheek. “You explained the knee injury that stopped your career with the Razors. But you never said how you got the scar.”
Cole’s look turned sardonic. “Simple. Another player’s blade connected with my mug.”
She frowned and then traced the long, white line bisecting the side of his face. “Have you ever thought of getting it fixed?”
“Nah...and have my good looks marred by cosmetic surgery?”
Impulsively leaning up, she trailed featherlight kisses along his scar. When she was finished, Cole looked as if he’d been undone.
“Ah, Marisa,” he said gruffly. “That was...sweet.”
“Women would die to have your nonchalant attitude about their physical appearance.” She paused. “Women would die to have you, come to think of it.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “After our first time in high school, I used to think about ways to make the experience better the next time.”
“You did?”
He nodded. “Yup. I still have a game plan filed away that I never got to use.”
She sighed dreamily.
He stroked her arms. “Close your eyes, Marisa. Just feel.”
When her eyes had fluttered closed, Cole began to massage her back, loosening her muscles and making her relax. Slowly, she came away from the edge of nervous arousal to something deeper and more soul-stirring.
Cole kissed her and then trailed his mouth down the column of her neck. He paused, blew on her nipples and then laved one with his tongue. When she jerked, he shushed her, gentling her with his hands. Then he drew her other breast into his mouth.
Awash in pleasure, Marisa threaded her hands in his hair, holding him. She felt fantasy merge with reality. Cole was here, making love to her. How many times had she dreamed about it? It was like her fantasies, but better in many ways... He was sure of himself, confident in his ability to please her. The full adult version of the teenager she had known.
“We’ll never use a real bed,” she murmured.
Cole stifled a laugh. “All in good time, including the kitchen, eventually.”
She opened her eyes. “I cook in the kitchen.”
“Me, too.”
“Not that type of cooking.”
“Ah, Marisa.” He moved downward and kissed one inner thigh and then the other. Then he pressed his lips against her moist core. He found her with his mouth and caressed and swirled her with his tongue.
She moaned, and her hips rose, but Cole held her to him, his hands under her rear end.
She turned her head to muffle her moans against a pillow as sensation swamped her. But it was too much. Panting, she gave in, and let the world explode as she bucked against Cole’s mouth.
Seconds later, spent, she collapsed back against their makeshift bed.
Cole came back up to face her. “It’s not over until you’re completely sexually satisfied.”
Oh. “I need a moment.” Her heart was racing, and she could still feel his arousal against her. “You have incredible staying power.”
“In hockey and in business, it’s about self-control. Like life, generally.” He smiled, smoothing her hair. “But don’t sell yourself short. You have wonderful stamina yourself.”
“You’ve always had a lot of self-control around me.” She knew she sounded wistful, but he’d been able to turn away from her so easily fifteen years ago...