Her eyes were closed while she rode out the last of her orgasm. I kept pumping inside of her, waiting for her to stop pulsing around me.
I was completely out of breath from fucking her so hard.
But I didn’t care.
I didn’t need to breathe as long as Geneviève was mine.
Finally, I let her back down to the floor.
As I was tucking myself back in, she lifted my shirt up. At first I thought she wanted another go—then I realized she was examining my ribs. “Is this tender?” she asked before pressing on an extremely painful part.
“Ow,” I said, backing up from her and pulling my shirt down.
She followed me and lifted my shirt up again. “You’ve already got bruising here, Beau. We should get this looked at.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “Didn’t the team doctor check you out in the locker room?”
He did.
And he’d said the same thing she just did.
“I’m fine, trust me. I’ve had injured ribs before.” And that was true. And it also sucked. Not much took longer to heal than damn ribs. I stepped back again and shoved my shirt down before I zipped up.
I bent down to pick up Geneviève’s slightly wrinkled blouse. She grinned the entire time I helped dress her.
I couldn’t help but kiss her lips a few times while I fastened her buttons.
When I held out her extremely wet thong, she looked at it skeptically and said, “Uh, there’s really no sense putting that back on now.”
“Fine by me,” I said, crumpling it up and stuffing it inside my pocket. Next, I picked up my suit jacket and slid it back on, straightening myself up as best I could.
“How do I look?” Geneviève asked, holding her arms out to the side.
My eyes raked over her body, remembering what we’d just done. “Anytime you ask me that, you’re going to get the same answer.”
She tilted her head to the side and said, “Like a ruffian hockey player just had his way with me in an elevator?”
I laughed out loud and nodded. “I can only hope.” I sidled up to her and said, “No lie, Geneviève. You’re fucking stunning at every moment of the day or night. Right out of the shower or all dolled up like you are now. Doesn’t matter. You are gorgeous.”
She rose up on her tiptoes and touched her lips to mine. “Uh huh,” she said, her tone saying she didn’t believe one word I’d said. “How about when I’m all sweaty after a practice or a game?”
I kissed her cheek and spoke softly into her ear, “Especially then.”
“I love the way you lie to me, Moreau. Keep it up.”
My arms captured her exactly how my lips did—forcefully, and with more love than I knew I had in me. After I kissed her senseless, I held her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “No lies. You are always beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Whatever.”
“Not, ‘whatever’. It’s true.” She still peered up at me like she didn’t believe what I was saying. “Oh, I have to give you something, hang on,” I said, digging around for my wallet. I flipped it open and handed her a credit card.
“Umm, I don’t normally get paid for that,” she said, making me crack right up.
“There’s a small chance that I might need you to bail me out.”
Her entire face scrunched up and frowned. “For what?”
“I just beat the shit out of a player who didn’t strike me back once.”
Realization dawned on her and her face cleared. “Do you know how rare it is for a player to get charged? That’ll never happen. Not in a million years. And besides, I can’t use a card that doesn’t have my—” she said, gazing down to the card, “hey, why does this have my name on it?”