Brett skated off to join his team, holding the cup high as he circled the rink. I caught my sister’s eye. She smiled wanly at me. I gave her a small smile, turned, and left the arena.
Chapter 17
Back at Brett’shouse, I turned on low lights, changed into a hockey jersey I found in one of the guest rooms, and opened a bottle of wine.
Brett texted,Just finished press. Be there in anhour
I responded,Wine isopen
I lit the gas fireplace, turned on the television, and curled up to watch the news highlights.
I flipped through the channels until, almost exactly to the hour, Brett came through the front door.
“Hello, Stanley Cup winner.” I smiled at him. I put my wine on the coffee table and stood.
He glanced from my toes to my face, and a rush of heat ran through me. “Hello, gorgeous woman in my jersey with nothing on underneath, I hope.”
Neither of us moved. He, in the entryway to his house. Me, twenty feet away, standing on the plush carpeted rug in front of the fire.
“You’re really here. This is real.” He said barely above a whisper.
I took in his jeans and dark navy t-shirt. His hair, wet from a shower, was slicked back on his head. A few pieces had dried and fallen onto his forehead.
Slowly, he approached me. He slung his keys around on his finger before placing them in a bowl on an end table.
“I’m here.”
He was now a few feet in front of me. “And you’re not leaving.”
“Ever,” I whispered.
He stepped closer, ran his hand along my thigh, bunching up the jersey. When he discovered I wasn’t wearing anything underneath, he groaned and became like a starved man.
With both hands, he gripped my hips and pulled me towards him. His mouth crashed to mine and I let him kiss me like I was everything to him. Just as it had been the very first time, we couldn’t slow down. I reached for the buttons on his jeans, frantically trying to get them off.
He stopped kissing me long enough to pull the jersey over my head. With a roughness that walked the line between pleasure and pain, he took my breast in his mouth and sucked on my nipple until the peak was strained and tight. I moaned with pleasure. My legs were weak.
My sex throbbed with need. He lifted me and placed me gently on the couch. It was the last gentle thing he did.
Moments later, we lay tangled around each other on the floor, having slid off the couch in our enthusiasm. The coffee table had shifted farther away from the couch.
He reached up and grabbed two pillows and a throw blanket from the couch. Pulling me close up against him, he tucked the blanket around me and placed his palm on my head.
My cheek rested on his chest. I stared into the fire’s flames. “Congratulations, by the way.”
“On my stellar performance? You’re welcome. But I assure you I can last much longer.”
I raised my chin, looked at him, and smiled. “I meant about the game.”
With mock surprise he said, “Oh, right. The game.”
I huffed out a laugh.
A few moments passed. Both of us were silent in our own thoughts. I sat up and took the blanket with me. He stood and lifted me onto his lap on the couch.
“Now what?” I asked him.
He kissed the side of my neck. “You tell me. I have to assume that since you’re here you want to be with me. But I don’t really know for sure. Are you leaving Alaska?”