Dream Girl Drama (Big Shots #3)

Chapter Eighteen

Sig was tracing his index finger up and down the curve of a sleeping Chloe’s spine, marveling at the shape and softness of her, when room service arrived. Pierre yipped and—from the sound of it—rolled off the luggage cart on full alert, barking at the new arrival.

“Shit,” Sig grunted, grabbing a pillow off the bed to hold in front of his dick when he answered the door. On the way to get the delivery, he snapped up a couple of twenties from his wallet and hushed the dog, to no avail. “You’re going to get us thrown out, man,” he hissed. “Have some chill.”

Sig opened the door, pillow over his lap and clocked the pinched expression of the hotel employee. “I’m sorry, sir. Dogs are not allowed in this hotel—” Sig tucked the cash into the man’s jacket pocket. “Let’s keep this between us.”

“Dog? What dog?” said the delivery guy without missing a beat, then nodding at the room beyond. “May I come in and set up your meal?”

With Chloe lying naked on the bed? “No, thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

“I’d hand you the tray, but there’d be nothing to keep your pillow in place.”

“Right,” Sig said dryly. “Just set down the tray and I’ll slide it in.”

“You’ve got it.”

A few minutes later, Sig had fed Pierre a kid’s menu cheeseburger and arranged the table settings for him and Chloe, complete with covered plates, a beer for him, wine for her. He set aside the small, brown paper bag containing the item he’d requested, smiling to himself in anticipation of Chloe’s reaction to what was inside.

When he finally ventured into the dark bedroom of the suite to track down his pants and pull them on, leaving the button undone, Chloe rolled over onto her back and yawned, stretching her arms up over her head and pointing her toes in a combination of moves that he’d seen a few times before but that never failed to make his pulse play leapfrog. Although now, his body reacted with a lot less restraint than usual, his cock more than a little excited by the sight of his girl all naked and warm and inviting, thickening and pressing against his zipper. Wanting out. Wanting in.

Sex with Chloe... Jesus, he didn’t have the words for how fucking hot it had been. Hell, he’d known they were going to be compatible. That their chemistry was fire. It had been since day one. But she’d blown his goddamn mind tonight. Obliterated his expectations... and ruined him forever. All orgasms were not created equal—and he could attest to that now. The one he’d had inside of Chloe had been so painfully thorough and intense, his lower back and abs were still tingling and sore.

“Did I hear Pierre barking?” she murmured, blissfully unaware that he was obsessing over the smooth, wet clutch of her pussy.

“Oh. Yeah.” He cleared the gravel from his voice. “At the room service guy.”

“There’s food?” She sat straight up, tits swaying gorgeously .

Maybe they never had to leave this hotel room. Maybe they could live here forever and pretend the bullshit outside this room didn’t exist.

Instead of making that fanciful suggestion, he said, “There’s a surprise, too.”

Chloe paused in the act of scooting to the edge of the bed. “Better than food?”

“Depends on how you look at it, I guess.” He searched the floor for his shirt, hunkered down, and picked it up, before making his way over to Chloe, barely quelling the urge to drag her back down onto the mattress and kiss that beautiful mouth, get between her legs. “Here, you can wear this.” They maintained eye contact while she stuck her arms through the holes, Sig slowly engaging the buttons of the garment, pausing every so often to stroke his knuckles down her cheek. “So, it turns out, you’re an animal in bed, Chlo.”

Her jaw dropped on a startled laugh. “Is that a complaint?”

“A complaint? I came so hard, I’m temporarily blind in my left eye.”

“Stop it,” she gasped. “Wait, really?”

He reached out and felt her features with his fingertips. “Chloe, is that you?”

Sides shaking with amusement, she pressed against him, going up on her toes and nuzzling the crook of his neck, which had to be the best feeling in the world. “You were perfect,” she whispered beneath his ear. “The way you can be so rough while still thinking of me the whole time... it’s very you. I’d expect nothing less.” She trailed her fingertips down his pecs. “And for the record, I’ve never been like that before. I trust you. That’s the difference.” She kissed his shoulder. “You’re my Sig.”

“I need to do it again,” he said hoarsely, attempting to back Chloe toward the bed, already hating himself for buttoning her into his shirt. What the hell had he been thinking? “Need you again.”

“I need you again, too.” Though her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated, she wiggled out of his grip and gave him a playful look over her shoulder on her way into the living area. “ After food and my surprise.”

They made quick work of the burgers, splitting an order of fries. Washing everything down with drinks while laughing at Pierre’s exploration of the suite. The damn dog sniffed every inch of the carpet and plopped his butt down in various spots to leave his mark. The hotel would definitely be charging his credit card for the violation, but Sig couldn’t have cared less. Not with Chloe sitting in his lap, feeding him french fries with the perfect amount of ketchup, as if she’d studied his habits.

There was a shroud of doom hanging in the air above their heads, but they were ignoring it. Smiling through the worry. Pretending tomorrow was a year away, instead of mere hours. For Sig’s part, he knew exactly what he needed to do. Chloe was worth the sacrifices he was prepared to make, so he’d make them with a smile on his face.

“Is that my surprise?” Chloe asked, pointing at the brown paper bag.

“Yup. Open it.”

He groaned as she leaned forward in his lap to retrieve the bag, that tush pressing down in just the right spot. Fuck. Fingers digging into the arm of the chair, he watched her open the top of the bag and peer inside, grinning when she started to laugh.

“A shaving kit!” She twisted around, oblivious to the stiff dick syndrome she was causing. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did.”

“You’re going to shave for me? Now? ”

Her excitement made him lighter than air. “That was the deal, right?”

“Yes!” She hopped off his lap and dashed for the bathroom. “It’s a good thing you didn’t let me open the bag before we ate, because our food would have gone cold.”

Sig pushed out of the chair and adjusted himself with a wince, before following in her wake. “What is it about this everyday ritual that has you so excited?”

“I don’t know.” When he entered the bathroom, he found the shaving cream and razor laid out neatly on the sink, Chloe sitting on the opposite side of the vanity, those graceful, bare legs swinging back and forth. Lord. With messy hair and smeared eye makeup, wearing his shirt... she stole his fucking breath. “I always wonder why you shave when so many guys on the team have beards. But it makes so much sense for you. You like tidy. You have your personal traditions, and you don’t deviate from them. When your mind is made up over something, you never change it.” There was a hint of something dark he couldn’t name in her eyes, but she quickly blinked it away. “You aren’t the type to wake up one morning and decide to grow a beard. And I guess... I don’t know. I guess I want to watch you shave because it’s part of your daily routine. Your dependability is one of my favorite things about you and I want to watch you... be you. In the quiet moments, too.”

“The same way I wanted to watch you pick out an outfit.”

“Yes.”

“What other routines of mine are you interested in?”

A sparkle set off the blue of her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind watching you put on your hockey pads. Do you think you’d be able to sneak me into the locker room?”

Sig squirted white shaving foam onto the flat surface of his four fingers and begun smearing it evenly over the lower half of his face, noting that Chloe watched this happen with grave fascination. “What is this apparent obsession with hockey pads and how have I been unaware of it for six months?”

“I love hockey pads,” she whispered.

His throat hurt from holding in a laugh. “Because they make me look bigger?”

The suggestion seemed to surprise her. “No, because they keep you safe.”

Now his throat hurt for a whole different reason. “Oh. Yeah, they do. Although Burgess pointed out recently that I used to be a lot more reckless. I didn’t realize until I played a few games and noticed what he meant. I keep my guard up, I anticipate better. I keep... me safe, too, Chloe. For you. You did that.”

She released a long exhale and scooted closer to him.

For several moments, she watched him shave in silence, the quiet scraping sound filling the scant space between them.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything,” he responded.

“What was it about me... that first night? What did you see?”

Sig’s hand dropped to the counter like a stone, the importance of the question obvious. So important to her, he could feel the weight everywhere. “It was your voice, first. You sounded... essential. You turned everything alive and brought the present into focus. Made it bigger. More beautiful. And that was before I even turned around.” Letting go of the razor, he reached up to cup her face, his heart turning over when her eyes took on a light sheen. “You talk about trusting me , Chlo? That night, I saw a person who made me want to trust the good in people. In life. Because you were the proof, standing right in front of me. I saw all of that in one night because you’re not hidden. You’re a fucking star that fell out of the sky and I was lucky enough to be standing in the right place.”

“Sig.” She took a big, heaving breath. “That’s so much more than I expected.”

I love you.

I’ll love you until the sun goes dark.

Sig wasn’t sure what made him put those words off for another time, maybe it was that elusive dread that continued to drift in and out of her eyes, so brief each time that he wondered if it was there at all. And all Sig could think to do was make her smile. Take away anything but the happiness they could share tonight. Every night. Together.

“You want to see how much I trust you?” He picked up the razor and handed it to her. “Take a stroke.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Dead.”

“That’s what you’re going to be.”

Sig chuckled. “Nah, you got this.” He guided her hand to his lathered jaw. “Easy. Easy. You’re going to do fine.”

She screamed in her mouth as the razor glided upward, letting out a shaky breath when nothing but a clean path was left behind. “I didn’t cut you?”

“Hey. I’m looking into your eyes, Chlo. I’d die happy.”

“What a beautiful thing to say,” she said on a watery laugh, dropping the razor into the sink. “I’m still never doing this again.”

“What? You’re shaving my back next.”

“Did I mention I have a doctor’s appointment tonight?” She started to slide off the sink. “I should probably get moving.”

Sig trapped her against the counter before her feet touched the ground. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled against her mouth.

“I know,” she whispered back, openly trembling at their contact.

“Listen.” He rode his mouth over the top of hers, tangling her tongue in a kiss that could only be described as carnal. A precursor to sin. “While I have you here, I might as well tell you some bad news.”

“Bad,” she said, staring at his mouth as if hypnotized. “What could be bad?”

“I’m afraid sex in hockey pads isn’t going to live up to the fantasy.”

His playfulness registered and she smiled into their next kiss. “Oh no?”

“No. For one, I won’t be able to feel your skin on mine and that’s a crime. Two, I won’t be able to move as easily. You like when I move, right?”

“Like isn’t the right word. Revere?”

“We’ll go with revere. Three, I’m going to get real hot, real fast fucking you with all that shit on.” She was starting to breathe faster. So was he. “Finally, four—and probably most important—my dick is going to be buried under padding, a cup, and some annoying ass laces. Not very easy to access.”

“I’ve considered this. A lot. I’ve considered this a lot.”

“Have you?” He urged Chloe’s thighs around his hips, snuck a forearm under her butt, and turned to carry her out of the bathroom. “What are your thoughts?”

“Unlace you, remove the cup from that pocket in front of your shorts, push down the elastic, get you inside me, hold on to those big shoulder pads, and ride.” She blurted all of it without taking a single breath. “I’ll be quick, I promise.” She licked the underside of his chin. “You won’t have enough time to get overheated.”

His cock swelled into an ache, the length of him pulsing so insistently against her bare sex through the fly of his pants, getting inside of her became a matter of urgency. “How’d you know about the pocket for my cup?”

“Some people surf internet porn. I surf sporting goods websites.”

They let out breathless laughs against each other’s mouths for several stolen moments, there in the dimness of the hotel room, as Chloe lowered her feet to the ground. Standing in front of him with her face tilted up, eyes closed as if lost to the bliss as much as he was, she unzipped his pants and nudged him backward onto the couch, straddling him and lowering that tightness onto his cock, whimpering inch by whimpering inch. Hurriedly, before he could lose the ability to make mental commands, he unfastened the buttons of her borrowed shirt, yanking it down her arms, away, palming her tits, groaning as Chloe, fully and gloriously naked, rode his cock like she fucking owned it.

“Good girl, just like that. Take me in. Take me out. In now. In in in. ”

“Oh my God,” she whined through her teeth, hands tangling in his hair, twisting, thighs open wide, hips bucking. “It’s so good.”

“I’ll wear the pads. I’ll do whatever you want, just keep that up. Oh. FUCK. ”

She rolled their foreheads together. “Did you like what I did to you last time?”

His thoughts were fragmenting, the clench of her cunt, her scent, the full body contact with her skin, everything was so much. Overwhelmingly perfect. Intimate. Real. Nothing would ever be this perfect again. “I love everything you do to me, baby. Be specific.”

“I put that finger in back,” she whispered, lapping at his tongue, as if his brain wasn’t already on the verge of implosion. And this girl, she looked him right in the eye while implying she’d like him to finger her asshole. Part of him seriously questioned in that moment if she loved him or wanted to kill him, but he didn’t care, either way. Not when he obliged her and she moaned, working that slippery pussy up and down his hard shaft. “Feels good.”

“Tuck it in a little more?”

“Yes.”

“Oh Jesus . She’s even tighter back here.”

“Sig. Stop. Keep going. Sig .”

They gasped into a kiss and her lower body went into test-his-stamina mode, grinding down on his root, throwing her hips back to partially free his flesh, then riding back down. Up and down, while their mouths moved in a frenzy, stealing each other’s breath and giving it back, teeth sinking into neck tendons, fingers burying in muscle, grunts hitting the walls of the living space and echoing back, the couch springs growing louder with protest the longer and harder she rode, Sig holding on to his come with every ounce of willpower in his body, until she finally screamed into his sweaty neck and let go, allowing him to throw her down on the couch and deliver one final, shattering drive.

And afterward, the way they clung to each other was just as powerful as the act itself, her laboring breath baptizing his skin, their hearts making vows their lips weren’t capable of speaking. Maybe theirs was the kind of love that didn’t need to be spoken out loud. Later, though... he’d wish he had. Maybe it would have made a difference.