Chapter 16
The drive from the arena felt eternal, the streets blurring past my window as Cam drove, his hand resting on my leg, his thumb brushing against the hem of my dress, like it was the gate of a castle he was intent on breaching.
Each touch sent electricity through my body, rendering me incapable of focusing on anything except the heat of his palm against my thigh and the lingering taste of his lips on mine.
We pulled up to a red light at a deserted intersection, and Cam turned to me, his blue eyes dark with desire.
The streetlights cast a soft glow on his face, highlighting the angles of his jaw, the stubble that I desperately wanted to feel against my skin.
Everywhere on my skin. The car was filled with a charged silence, the air thick with anticipation.
"Lana," he whispered, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers throughout my body.
His gaze locked onto mine, and in that moment, I knew there was no turning back.
This wasn't a game, wasn't a charade. This was real, raw, and undeniable.
I felt it in every bone in my body and I could see it all over his face.
Without thinking, I reached out, my fingers tangling in his hair, and pulled him towards me.
Our lips met in a fiery collision, a desperate clash of need and longing.
His mouth moved against mine with an intensity that left me breathless, his tongue teasing my lips, demanding entry.
I opened up to him, matching his hunger with my own.
His hands were everywhere, tracing the line of my jaw, sliding down my neck, and resting on my waist. The heat of his touch seared through the fabric of my dress, setting my skin on fire.
I grasped at him, moving awkwardly around the center console, desperate to feel every inch of the hard planes of his body against the soft ones of mine.
The world outside the car blurred into insignificance. All that mattered was the feel of his lips on mine, the slide of his hands over my body, the electric current running between us.
"Cam," I whispered against his mouth, my voice shaking with need. The first word of a confession – of everything I'd been too terrified to admit.
He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me, sending a wave of desire crashing through my body.
His hands shifted, one sliding up to cup my breast, the other moving to my lower back, pressing me closer.
I arched into him, a soft moan escaping my lips as his thumb brushed the thin fabric over the sensitive peak of my nipple.
I felt them tighten with want under his fingertip, and my body's reaction to his touch elicited a low groan from Cam, "I. .."
The car behind us blared its horn, startling us both.
"Oh shit," Cam said. We burst into laughter as he pulled away, his eyes dark and wild, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. I knew my own eyes mirrored his, filled with the same raw desire, the same uncontrollable need.
"Home," he said, slamming his foot on the gas. The car roared to life, speeding through the empty streets.
Every touch, every glance was charged with electricity.
His fingers sending jolts of pleasure up my leg with every slow, deliberate movement.
I wanted more. He wanted more. I leaned over, my lips brushing against the line of his jaw, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling the rough stubble against my sensitive lips.
Wanting to feel him everywhere, in every way.
"I've wanted this for so long," he said quietly, eyes fixed on the road. "You have no idea."
But I did. Because I'd wanted it too. I’d been fighting it for years, hiding behind professionalism and old wounds and the fear of being hurt again.
Tonight, watching him on the ice, seeing the raw power and skill as he dominated the game, his easy rapport with my family, Coco’s spot-on assessment of what I’d been too afraid to admit to even myself – shifted something inside me.
The careful walls I'd built to protect my heart had finally crumbled completely.
When we stopped at another light, I leaned over and pressed my lips to the sensitive spot just below his ear. His sharp intake of breath was deeply satisfying.
"Not fair," he growled, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. "I'm trying to get us home in one piece."
"Then drive faster," I whispered against his skin.
By the time we pulled into his long, curving driveway, we were both desperate, our bodies shaking with need.
He was out of the car in an instant, opening my door and pulling me into his arms. He closed the door behind me and instantly pressed me against the passenger door, the cool metal against my back contrasting with the heat that radiated from his body.
His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that stole my breath away.
It was as if every cell in my body was drawn to him, and I couldn't look away even if I wanted to.
His hand slipped from my hip, traveling slowly up my body, tracing a path that left a trail of fire in its wake.
When his thumb brushed over my bottom lip, I couldn't help but let out a soft gasp.
Everything about this moment felt magnified – the pounding of my heart, the electricity in the air, the way his fingers lingered on my cheek.
It was more than just attraction; it was a desperate, overwhelming need that had been building since the moment we met a decade ago.
His other hand pressed against my lower back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.
I could feel every hard line of his body, every muscle taut with the same urgency that pulsed through me.
Our breaths mingled, each ragged inhale and exhale a testament to the desire we'd been holding back for so long.
His eyes, darkened with lust, never left mine as he leaned in closer, his lips hovered just above mine.
The anticipation was almost painful, a sweet torture that I both craved and feared.
When he finally pressed his lips to mine again, it was explosive – a release of all the pent-up tension that had been simmering between us.
His kiss was demanding, hungry, and I met it with equal fervor. Our bodies pressed together, I couldn't get enough of him – the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands, the urgency in his touch.
Suddenly, he scooped me up in his strong arms and carried me to his front door like I was weightless. Like some insanely sexy warrior throwing me over his shoulder to take me home and ravish me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the corded muscles beneath his skin.
My heart pounded against my ribs, and I could feel his breath hot on my cheek as he whispered, "I've wanted you for so long.
" The urgency in his voice sent a shock of desire through me, and I tightened my grip on him, pressing myself against his chest. His lips found mine in a fierce, hungry kiss that promised everything.
We couldn't get inside fast enough; the need between us was palpable, a fire that had been smoldering for years was now burning out of control.
His fingers fumbled slightly with the keys – a small, humanizing detail that made my heart squeeze. Cam Murphy, hockey heartthrob and NHL superstar, was nervous.
Finally, the lock clicked and he swung the door open wide. We tumbled inside, our bodies entwined, our hearts pounding in sync.
"Baby," he whispered, his voice filled with a reverence that made my heart ache. His hands cupped my face, his thumbs brushing gently over my cheeks. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me."
I looked into his eyes, seeing the reflection of my own desire, my own longing. "I want this," I whispered, my voice steady and sure. "I want you, Cam." A thought I'd never admit bubbled up out of nowhere: I've always wanted you.
A slow smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, capturing my lips in another searing kiss. "Would you like a drink, or a tour, or a..." he asked, gently setting me down.
"Bed," I whispered breathlessly, my hand still grasping his.
"Or bed," he grinned.
We stumbled up the stairs. We couldn't wait, couldn't slow down. Every touch, every kiss was a claim on the other.
We made our way into Cam's bedroom, a wild, delicious chaos of limbs and laughter. His hands roamed over my body with a desperate hunger, and I responded in kind, my fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his dress shirt.
Cam's lips found mine again, drawing me in with the heat and urgency between us. I surrendered to the sensation, letting everything else fade away. There was only us, only this moment, only the overwhelming need that pulsed through our bodies.
His hands slipped under the hem of my dress, pushing it up and over my head.
I raised my arms, helping him, and then I was bared before him, clad only in my black lace bra and panties.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes traveling over my body with such naked appreciation that I felt beautiful, powerful, desired in a way I never had before.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You're so fucking beautiful, Lana."
I reached for him, my fingers fumbling awkwardly at the hem of his shirt. He covered my hands with his own, helping me, and then his shirt was gone, tossed aside, leaving him bare-chested and breathtakingly, unattainably gorgeous.
I couldn't help but stare and give a few seconds of reverence for the fact that I was essentially living out the fantasy of thousands, probably hundreds of thousands, of Cam's fans who would gladly pawn all their worldly possessions for a chance to be where I was right now.
And it would be totally worth it.
His torso was a masterpiece of athletic perfection, all defined muscle and golden skin, marred only by the scars and fading bruises that were the badges of his profession.