Chapter Four
Trent
T he best part about waking up with Dani—besides the fact that she's not a drug hallucination—is that she's cuddly as fuck. She's sprawled across my body, her mouth partially open, drooling on my chest like it's her favorite goddamn pillow.
My dick is thrilled with this. He's already wide awake, pressing up against her thigh like it's his job.
The rest of me comes online about two seconds later.
The first thing I notice—aside from her, I mean—is that I don't feel half bad.
I'm not even itchy. The second thing I notice is how absurdly bright it is in here.
Sunlight slants through the half-open blinds like it's trying to blind me.
And then I notice how completely I'm wrapped around her, like a goddamn overgrown koala.
For the record, I am not mad about it .
She's breathing slow and deep, her hair flowing across my chest, and her thigh pinning my dick against my leg in a way that would be fucking torturous if it wasn't also perfect.
Her top—my old college hockey tee, which I don't remember lending her—has ridden up enough to reveal the curve of her hip. And Jesus Christ, there's nothing underneath except pale, freckled skin and a hint of lacy pink panties.
I consider all the ways I could wake her up…most of them probably illegal in at least seven states. I settle for digging my fingers into her perfect ass just to see what she'll do.
She mumbles something into my chest that sounds like she might be summoning demons and tries to wriggle free. Fuck that noise. She's right where I want her.
I tighten my grip, keeping her locked in place.
I never want to let her go.
Is that an option? I file the question away for later, when I can fully consider the ramifications of keeping her permanently tied to my bed.
She finally blinks her eyes open, squinting at me like she just realized she's not actually alone in this bed. She tries to push up on her elbows, but I just haul her closer, until her nose is an inch from mine .
"Morning, Sunshine," I say, my voice gritty as hell. I know what I sound like in the mornings—basically a sex line operator. It's definitely a feature, not a bug.
She seems to agree because she blinks twice, her eyes bright blue even in the ridiculously over-the-top daylight.
"Are you dead?" she croaks.
A grin curls my lips up at the corners. "Not even close. I feel great. But you can check for yourself if you want. CPR is encouraged."
She processes this, looks down at my mouth, then back up. "You're not swelling," she mumbles, shifting slightly, her cheeks turning pink. "Well, not your face, anyway."
I don't even have to look to know exactly which part of me she's referring to. Dani Frost is in my bed, talking about my cock. Fantasies really do come true. "It's a hazard of sleeping next to you."
"This is the best Christmas Eve ever," she says, and then immediately blushes, as if she didn't mean to say that out loud.
I take the opportunity to grind against her thigh a little…just enough to make the bastard even harder. Her breath hitches in response, and that's all the invitation I need.
It's been at least five hours since I had my lips on her. Unacceptable.
I go straight for her neck, flicking my tongue across her pulse. She shudders but doesn't pull away. Instead, she fists her hands in my hair, clinging to me like I might float away if she doesn't anchor me.
"Dani," I murmur, tasting her skin, "if you don't want this, tell me now.
" I promised her a chance to change her mind about us last night.
I was an idiot for doing that, but I won't back out now, even if it kills me.
I'll spend the rest of eternity trying to convince her to fall in love with me if she wants to end this here, but I'll keep my word for today at least.
"I…" She shakes her head, her mouth open, and her eyes huge.
Christ, she's killing me.
"I want this, Trent."
Fuck. Me.
That's as far as I manage to think before my lips are on hers. The kiss is messy, not even remotely delicate, but I'm pretty sure I could die right here and not have any regrets.
I suck her lower lip into my mouth, biting down just enough to make her gasp. Her tongue finds mine, tentative at first, then eager. She's not shy, not really. She's usually just a hot little ball of insecurity and anxiety. But there's a nervous energy to her that I can't get enough of.
She tugs hard on my hair, almost as if she's daring herself to believe this is real.
I make a mental note to never let her doubt it .
I reach under her shirt, skimming my fingers along the soft skin of her back. She's so warm, so alive. I can't get enough of her.
She's been touching me for months, working on my back, but I've never been allowed to put my hands on her. All bets are off now, though. I want to map every inch of her body, memorize every sound she makes, live off every little tremor.
When my hand slides lower, cupping her ass, she stiffens for half a second—just long enough to make me pause. But then she exhales, melting into me, and I know she's not going anywhere.
"Is this okay?" I ask, my voice a thick rasp.
She nods, her expression is so open, so honest, that I feel myself falling deeper.
"You're fucking perfect," I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers.
She laughs, the sound shaky and so goddamn sweet. "You're just saying that because you almost died."
I shake my head, completely serious. "No, I mean it. If you were my last memory, I'd die happy, Sunshine."
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling now, wide and unfiltered. As bright as the sun.
She tries to slide down to hide her face, but I catch her chin, tilting her head so she has to look at me.
"I mean it, Dani. You're perfect."
She bites her lip, then bites mine for good measure. "You're ridiculous," she finally says.
"Only for you."
She thinks I'm kidding, but I'm not. People think I'm an asshole because I am.
Their opinions don't matter. I don't give a shit what they think about me or my career.
I don't go out of my way to be nice or make friends.
I'm not touchy-feely or some kind of goddamn hero just because I play a sport.
I'm just a motherfucker who knows how to skate and hold a stick at the same time.
I want to be something different to Dani. She makes me feel different. I laugh and joke with her in a way I don't with most people. I'm not perpetually annoyed or tuning her out. I want to be right where she is, every damn minute of the day.
Her hands roam my chest, exploring, and I flex just because I can.
Just because her touch always feels electric.
She tries not to react, but her eyes go a little wider when her palms graze my abs.
There's nothing clinical about the way she's touching me this time.
It's all heat and promise, and I fucking love it.
I keep my hands under her shirt, but I don't move higher than her waist. Not yet. I want her to set the pace.
She surprises me by grabbing my hand and guiding it to the swell of her breast.
Jesus Christ. There's no bra between my fingers and her skin .
My brain short-circuits.
She shivers when my thumb brushes her nipple, clinging to me again, her breath a hot little whimper in my ear.
I want to rip her shirt off, throw her down, and fuck her until she's screaming for me, but I force myself to go slow. She deserves slow. Hell, she deserves everything.
I kiss her again, softer this time, then pull back just enough to meet her gaze. "Can I see you, baby?"
She blinks silently. For a second, I think I've pushed too far, but then she nods, slow and deliberate, like she's deciding something important.
"Yeah," she says, her voice so quiet I barely catch it. "I want you to."
I sit up, keeping her in my lap, and tug her borrowed shirt off over her head. She helps, awkward and graceless, and for a moment we both just stare at each other, neither of us breathing.
She's fucking gorgeous.
I run my hands along her sides, memorizing the curve of her waist, the softness of her stomach, the perfect weight of her in my hands.
"Goddamn, Sunshine," I rasp.
She blushes, ducking her head, but I don't let her hide from me.
I tilt her chin up, kissing her gently. "Never hide from me, Dani. You're beautiful. Christ, you have no idea how much I love what I'm seeing right now."
That's nothing but the truth. I'm so hard that it's actually painful. My heart is lodged somewhere near my throat. My skin hums. It's basically the exact opposite of anaphylaxis.
She shivers, an adorable blush spreading across her cheek before her hands slide down, plucking at the waistband of my boxers.
"You want them off?"
"Well, I certainly don't want to be this naked alone, Trent."
I chuckle, not because it's funny, but because I'm so goddamn happy I feel like I might explode apart.
We're both a mess. My hair is wild, her cheeks are flushed, and we're both trembling with anticipation.
I've never considered myself a patient man. On the ice, I wait for openings, sure, but in real life? Fuck no. I want what I want, and I want it now.
But with Dani, slow is the only speed that matters.
I kiss her everywhere. Every. Fucking. Where. Her mouth, her chin, the hollow of her collarbone. She tastes like sleep and vanilla, the sweetest combination. My hands move like I'm starved—down her back, across her ribs, my thumbs skimming the underside of her perfect tits.
She arches into my touch, and the sound she makes—soft, shocked, needy—lights me up like a damn Christmas tree.
"Thought about doing this every time you had your hands on me, Sunshine," I murmur.
I kiss down her chest, wrapping my tongue around one hard nipple, and she shivers. Her hands are in my hair again, dragging me closer. She's breathing hard, already wound tight.
I let my hands drift down before hooking my thumbs into the waistband of her panties. And then I pause, looking up at her, just to make sure. "Can I?"