Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
THE VIEW
TULLY
Last night, after getting off the phone with Lola, I called Wade and asked him to set up more security.
“I’ll bring my best guys on board,” he promised.
Wade will be traveling with her, along with a guy on his staff named Kip, and another guy, Joe, will be watching her apartment to make sure Daniel doesn’t try anything. Knowing they’re with her is the only thing that gets me through the hours it takes until I see her.
The game against Dallas goes well. I take out all my frustration on the rink, and it pays off. We win 6–1. Afterward, I can’t get to my girl fast enough.
She texted her room number when she got in. We agreed that this was the best way, rather than trying to sneak her into my room on the same floor as everyone else.
I get the view of my life when she opens the door.
She’s wearing a black teddy, cut high on her hips, with thin straps that cross once over her collarbone before disappearing down her back in an X.
Her peaked nipples and those fucking barbells show through the black lace.
There’s a deep plunge between her breasts that dips almost to her navel.
A tiny satin bow sits right above her pussy, an innocent little thing that does nothing to hide how fucking hot the whole piece is.
“Goddamn, Lola.”
And the heels—God, the heels. Strappy black stilettos, four inches at least, with thin ankle straps that wrap twice around her leg before buckling. Their height makes her mouth easier to reach, so I take advantage of it.
My hands dive into her hair, the tips still wet from her shower, as I back her against the wall and kiss her senseless. She smells clean and delicious, the faint citrus of her body wash invading my senses.
She pulls back a little and skirts around me, showing me her ass as she walks toward the bed. A fucking masterpiece. Her ass, not the bed. I barely even see the bed or the floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the glittering downtown Dallas skyline. I don’t give a single fuck about the view.
“Clothes off,” she says, over her shoulder.
I do what she says because, hell yes, and then I follow her. She turns and pushes me onto the bed. I could’ve braced myself, but why would I? She straddles my hips, knees planted wide, and laughs low in a way that always makes my chest feel tight.
“I know you’re supposed to be resting for tomorrow’s flight, Captain,” she teases, fingernails dragging slow, deliberate lines down my pecs. “Coach’ll kill you if you show up in Denver looking like you ran a marathon in bed. But I’ve got a craving, and I need you to fuck it right out of me.”
“Oh, there is nothing I’d love more.”
I grip her thighs harder and glance down when I feel her bare skin against my dick. My eyes widen when I see the discreet slit in the lace.
“Brilliant,” I whisper, my thumb gliding over her wet center. “Is this where you need me?”
She nods. “So, so much.”
“Then we’d better make it quick,” I say, voice rough. “Get you taken care of.”
Her eyes flash wickedly. She leans down, mouth brushing mine.
One second we’re teasing; the next she’s sliding down my length in one smooth, deliberate roll of her hips that steals every coherent thought I’ve got left.
In Windy Harbor, she told me she was on the pill, so we’ve already enjoyed this amazingness, but I groan into her mouth like I’m feeling her bare for the first time, and I kiss her deep.
Her hands brace on my shoulders, nails biting in just enough to sting, and she starts moving.
Slow at first, like she’s trying to drive me crazy, until she can’t take it slow any longer either, and she chases the rhythm that makes her breath hitch every third roll.
I sit up abruptly, arms banding around her waist, and flip us so she’s on her back beneath me. The mattress dips. She gasps—half laugh, half moan—and hooks her legs around my hips, pulling me deeper.
“Show-off,” she mutters against my jaw.
“Is this easing the ache?” I thrust harder, watching her eyes flutter shut, watching the way her lips part when I hit that spot that makes her arch off the bed. The headboard thumps once, twice—quiet enough the neighbors probably won’t complain, and loud enough that I don’t care if they do.
She reaches between us, fingers finding where we’re joined, circling herself while I drive into her. The sight of it—her touching herself while I’m buried inside her—snaps something loose in my chest. I drop my forehead to hers, breathing ragged. “Lola—”
“Don’t stop,” she orders, voice breaking on the last word.
Her free hand fists in my hair, yanking my mouth back to hers.
The kiss turns frantic, teeth and tongue and desperation.
I feel her start to tighten around me, that telltale flutter, and I pick up the pace, angling my hips just right and grinding against her clit with every thrust.
She comes first, her whole body locking up as she cries out against my lips. The sound rips through me. I follow two strokes later, burying myself as deep as I can and spilling inside her with a low, broken groan.
Her legs stay wrapped around me, ankles crossed at the small of my back like she’s not ready to let go yet. I kiss her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. She smiles against my skin, lazy and sated.
“What do you think?” I ask gruffly. “Did that do it?”
“For now.” She grins. “But I can’t promise how long it’ll last before I get another craving.”
“You just let me know, and I will keep you fed.”
Later, as she’s stretched out on my chest, she leans her head up. “I didn’t even ask—how did it go with Patrick tonight?”
I smirk. “Oh, he tried to pick a fight all night. I didn’t bite.” I lean in and kiss the tip of her nose. “I knew you’d be waiting for me when I got done, and I wasn’t going to let anything slow me down.”
And the rest of the story is that when he tried to get in my face about Lola, I told him I had my girl back where she belongs, and we’ve never been happier.
That shut him up.
“Something’s got you in a good mood, Whitman,” Knox says as he’s backing into the bathroom.
We’re getting ready for the Colorado game.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that too,” Roman says, moving next to me. “You got anything you want to share with us?”
I scrub my hand down my face. “Like what?” I ask innocently.
Roman snorts. “Uh, maybe like a certain woman you were photographed with at the airport the other day. A hot blonde with sick tattoos.” He bumps my arm with his. “Seriously, when were you gonna tell me?” he says under his breath.
“It’s complicated, all right? If I told you everything that’s going on, it’d make your head spin.”
“Okay, we’re cool. You’ll tell me what you want when you’re ready. But you’re okay?” he asks.
I grin and he laughs.
“Oh man,” he says.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I tell him. “I’m fucking incredible.”
He pounds me on the back. “I’m glad to hear it, man. Really glad.”
My phone rings. Daniel again. Sooner or later, I’ll have to take his calls.
But it won’t be tonight.