Chapter 26
twenty-six
. . .
Nick
My head spins as all the remaining blood in my brain rushes straight to my dick.
“Seriously? You’re game?”
Bex tilts her chin, unafraid to ask for what she wants. What she needs.
And what she needs is me.
“Fuck me,” she murmurs. “Fuck me out of my head.”
I scramble to my feet. “I don’t have any condoms.” Not in my practice gear.
“I’ve got it.” She presses on my chest, and I take a step back. Hell, I’m still wearing my skates. I debate taking them off—do I fuck her while wearing literal knife shoes, or do I unwrap all the tape and pads to take them off?
She rummages in her desk drawer, coming up with a condom and a packet of lube.
“I’m allergic to—”
“Latex. I remember.” There’s a reason I’ve been carrying polyurethane condoms around in my wallet for the last three and a half years, and it has everything to do with her.
The condom is intact, not punctured—not that I doubted her—and the expiration date is still a few years out. We’re good.
I’m wearing a shit ton of gear, and it takes a lot longer to strip out of my hockey pants, base layer, and jock than I anticipated. When I finally get my bottom half undressed, Bex has arranged herself over her desk, legs spread, ass up.
My mouth dries faster than the desert. Fuck, she looks like dessert personified.
“Ba—” I cut myself off just in time, remembering her reaction to that word. “Bex. Holy fuck.”
She turns to look at me over her shoulder. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
Making quick work of rolling on the condom, I coat myself in the lube, then sink two fingers into her tight heat to spread the wetness around. She’s naturally wet, almost dripping with it, but a little extra lube never hurt. Not wanting to let me go, she clenches around me.
The air crackles with old anger and new hunger, heat and possibility. We’re in her office—where we both work—and anyone could walk in at any moment. This is insanely risky. I’d be a fool to toss aside my career for one hurried tryst.
But this is Bex. My Bex. I’d be a fucking idiot to pass up a chance with her, however I can get it.
When she lets out a soft sigh, I line myself up with her entrance. Her muscles immediately tense, and I run a hand over her hip.
“It’s okay, Bex. Let me in.”
She exhales to the count of four, then relaxes, the tension easing from her body. I sink into her sweet cunt, her body gripping me so tightly I can hardly breathe.
The first few moments are always when I’m most oversensitive, when I can get too carried away. I let her acclimate, too, her breaths becoming steadier, less shallow.
Finally, she arches her back, pressing her hips toward me. “Fuck me.”
I pull out, then thrust deep, all the way to the hilt. A stuttered gasp falls from her lips.
“Shh. We’ve got to be quiet.”
“Quick and quiet. Two things I never am.” She smirks at me over her shoulder, her signature red lipstick mussed from our kisses.
Her copper hair tumbles down her back in riotous waves, and I thread my fingers through the length, tugging. Bex arches her neck, letting out a soft pant. Her yielding loosens that viselike grip around my heart. She trusts me, at least enough for this. She knows I’ll take care of her.
And then I fuck her. Three and a half years of longing. Of unrequited feelings. Of feeling lost and abandoned. Discarded. Worthless.
A year and a half of pining. Of being off-limits. Of knowing she was so close, but still unattainable.
She hated me.
Does she still? She’s opened up to me over the last few weeks, but is that enough to put aside all that bitterness between us?
I’ve already forgiven her. She lashed out because she thought I would do the same; I can’t blame her for the defense mechanism, even though I wish it had gone down differently.
But if it had, we wouldn’t be here, in this moment. We wouldn’t have this opportunity now.
My focus narrows in on where we’re connected, my cock moving in and out of her slick cunt. Her moans and gasps, the way she clutches the edge of the desk, her hips tilted and back arching to meet me.
“Nick…” Her breathless plea grounds me, steadies me.
Right. This isn’t just about me. It’s about her, about us. I have to make sure she’s having a good time, too. My hand slides between her legs, thumb on her clit.
She jolts, a fresh burst of wetness coating my cock. I touch her as my hips pump in and out, determined to bring her pleasure, for her to tip over the edge first.
And when she stiffens, and her pussy walls clench around me, and she lets out a long, guttural moan, a sense of animalistic pride fills me so intensely, I nearly come myself. It brings me satisfaction to see my partner crest that peak; it’s as much about them getting off as it is for me.
Balancing as carefully as I dare on my skates, I fold myself over her, until my chest brushes her shirt. Bex turns her head, and I meet her in a heady, drugging kiss.
“Quick,” she murmurs against my lips. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
With one last brush of my lips to hers, I straighten again and seek my release. Her tight, wet heat surrounds me, and it only takes a few more thrusts before I’m coming. I bite my lip so hard I taste the metallic tang of blood.
I slump over her back, trying to catch my breath. My body is damp with sweat, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the punishing skate before I barged into her office. Good thing I have practice in a few minutes.
Shit. Practice. I have to get on the ice.
“Mmm, you’re heavy.” She sounds half drugged.
I start to lift myself up, but her small hand encircles my wrist. Her fingertips rest over my pulse point, and my heart pounds, answering her siren call.
“No, I like it. You’re liked a weighted blanket. You give me the good tingles.”
I press a kiss behind her ear. “Only good tingles.”
Her huff of laughter makes me smile.
Footsteps sound in the hallway, and consciousness slams back into me. Reluctantly, I pull away from her, tugging her upright. I duck down and retrieve her underwear and skirt, and while she’s getting dressed, I toss the condom into the trashcan beside her desk and redress in my gear.
It’ll be an uncomfortable practice, that’s for sure, but there’s definitely a shower in my future.
“Can I see you again?” I have no shame in asking.
“You’re seeing me right now.”
“Bex.” I pinch her chin between two fingers. “I want to see you again. With clothes, without, I don’t care. There’s something here, isn’t there?”
Her rich brown eyes soften. “Yeah. There is.”
“Do you want to give it a try? Us?”
She swallows, her gaze roving over my face. “I’m a mess. I don’t even know the first place to start.”
“That’s not what I’m asking. Do you want this?”
Do you want me?
“Yes.” The answer comes without hesitation.
That’s all I need. I peck her lips, unable to resist her for a single moment more.
“Then we’ll work through the issues together. Fuck knows I’ve got baggage of my own. We all do. It’s how we tackle them that makes a difference.”
“I’m scared,” she whispers.
“Of me?” I hold my breath, dreading the answer.
“Of what we could be.”
I cup her cheek, marveling at the silky softness of her skin. “Then we’ll work on that, too. I’m not going anywhere. Not anytime soon.”
Except practice.
With another kiss, I indulge in her for one more moment, before I wrench myself away.
“I’ve got to go. Can I see you later?”
She nods. “I’m not working the game, Annaliese is on duty. So I’ll be in the stands, cheering you on.” She pauses, biting her lip. “Don’t fight Luke. Please? I know I have no right to ask…”
“Now that I know you’re not with him, I have no need to fight him.”
The second she confirmed there was nothing going on, all my hostility faded away.
Well, most of it. Ninety-five percent. I’ll probably always resent him for standing in the way of us a year and a half ago, for leading me on, but I can’t be angry with her for that.
She was protecting herself. She thought she needed protecting from me.
And for that, I don’t know how to forgive myself.
“Just like that?”
“We’re not suddenly going to be besties and braid each other’s hair,” I allow. “But if he’s your friend, like Elsy is mine, I can’t be upset over that. She’s still a huge part of my life. I’d expect the same for you.”
“We’ve only ever been friends,” she repeats. “There’s never been anything between us.”
“But there is with you and me?” I have to check again. I need to hear it from her lips.
Bex smiles. “You and I are completely different. If you can deal with my issues…”
“I can. I will.”
“Then yes. There’s something here. And I’d like to see where it goes.”
With a groan, I let my forehead rest against hers. “I wish I didn’t have to go to practice.”
“But you do.” This time, she kisses me. She initiates. Then she swats me on the ass, her lips curved into a crimson-painted smile. “Go. I’ll see you later.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight.”