16. Chapter 16 #3
I can see her reaching for an answer and finding an empty shelf. “To...” She stops. Her brows pull together. “Get better, I guess.”
“At what?”
“I don’t know.” It’s not defensive. She genuinely doesn’t. Her gaze drifts back toward the photographs. “My problems, I guess.”
“It’s only a problem if it has a solution.” I keep my voice level, trying not to sound like I’m pushing. “If it doesn’t have a solution, it’s just something you have to accept. It’s how you move on.”
Her eyes come back to me. “So I’m supposed to decide which one this is?” I can tell she’s turning it over.
“If your goal is getting back on the ice without your body locking up, that’s a problem you can work on. If your goal is making the accident never have happened...” I glance toward the trophies. “Simon’s good, but I don’t think time travel is part of his arsenal.”
I learned this the hard way.
That finally pulls a proper smile from her. “Who knew Zed Mercer was so wise?”
“Don’t spread it around.”
“Worried about your reputation?” She raises a brow.
“Took years to make people think I’m emotionally inept.”
Her laugh breaks free before she can stop it. I love that sound.
“I hope you know how impressive this is,” I say, looking back at the wall, and she follows my gaze. “Most athletes spend their entire careers chasing half of what’s sitting up there.”
She’s exceptional. She knows it too. I can see a little spark of pride trying to survive everything sitting beside it.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, her cheeks turning pink instantly. “Did you ever get hurt?”
“I don’t know a single hockey player who hasn’t.”
“Anything serious?” She turns to face me fully.
“Yeah, I tore my ACL.”
“A full tear?” Her eyebrows shoot up.
“Unfortunately.” I nod. “I was out for more than a year. It was before I made the league, back when I played wing.”
“You were a winger?” Her eyes widen into saucers.
“I understand the concept is difficult,” I chuckle. “But yes, I used to be a winger before I became a goalie.”
“How did you end up in net?”
“I started taking rotations there when I recovered. Scrimmages first, then practice, and eventually I stopped volunteering to rotate out. It turned out I liked it more than wing. The whole game stays in front of me.”
“Control freak,” she says with a playful smile. “Goalies put a lot of strain on their knees from what I know. Your ACL doesn’t bother you?”
“Sometimes.” I shrug. “It’s part of the job. At least I still have all my real teeth.”
Her gaze immediately drops to my mouth, and I grin.
Lilly giggles, planting her hand on my chest to playfully push me again.
I catch her hand and use my other one to lift her chin. I dive down, capturing her lips. I kiss her until she’s melting back against me, until the only thing she can think about isn’t the ice or the scar, but me.
Lilly is soft and pliant in my arms, her hands clutching at my forearm. The more she melts, the more my own control starts to fray at the edges. My cock, already heavy and aching from the sight of her, snaps back to full, rigid attention, throbbing against my pants.
Without breaking the kiss, I twist her, hook my arms under her thighs, and lift her up.
She lets out a muffled gasp into my mouth, her legs instinctively locking around my waist. I carry her the short distance into the kitchen, the scent of warm butter and sugar swirling around us, and set her down on the edge of the dining table.
I break the kiss just long enough to trail my lips down the line of her throat, my stubble grazing her skin.
I feel her hands tighten in my hair, a small, desperate whimper escaping her.
And even though her body’s leaning into mine, I still don’t know where her head’s at after going through her accident with me.
I reluctantly start pulling back, placing my hands on her hips to gently push her back. I ease my weight away, taking half a step to give her room.
She blinks up at me, her eyes heavy-lidded, and it takes a second for the realization to reach them. The second she feels the distance growing between us, her hands snap from the back of my neck to the front of my shirt. She fists it and yanks me back down to her.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers, her gaze locked on my mouth.
Well. Message received.
Whatever restraint I was holding onto shatters. I dive back into her, my hands framing her face so hard it tilts her head back, and I devour her mouth.
“Are you already wet for me, Lilly?” I murmur, my hand sliding down her hip, gathering her dress until I can slip my fingers under the elastic of her panties.
“Fuck.” I hiss when I find her slick and ready.
I increase the pressure, my thumb finding the spot that makes her breath catch.
I’m too desperate to taste her to waste another second. I drop to my knees, pull one of her legs over my shoulder, and push her panties aside. She’s perfect—flushed and open, and I know I’m not going to stop until I’ve had everything she’ll give me.
“Oh God!” Lilly throws her head back the second my mouth makes contact.
I slide my tongue slowly up her slit, parting her.
The first salty taste makes my cock pulse hard against my zipper.
I groan against her, gripping her hips and pinning her firmly against the edge of the dining table.
The room fills with the sound of her breathing and the wet noise my mouth makes between her thighs.
“Christ,” I groan against her. “What a wet fucking mess you made.”
Lilly cries out, her hands flying to my hair, fingers twisting hard as I devour her. I drag my tongue from her tight little hole all the way up to her clit. She’s shaking already. Whimpering. Trying to close her thighs around my head.
I grip them harder and force them wide, keeping her open while I push my tongue inside her, fucking her with it, tasting the rawness I left behind.
Lilly sobs my name, hips grinding against my face, pulling my hair so hard it stings. I suck hard on her clit and groan at the fresh rush of wetness, licking her up while she cries and moans above me.
I drag my tongue back down and push it inside her again, my nose pressed against her clit.
Lilly’s moans get louder, more broken. Her thighs shake around my head. I know she’s close, and I’m nowhere near done with her.
“Come on my face, Lilly,” I growl against her pussy. “Give me every fucking drop.”
She lets out a broken sob, her fingernails digging into my skin. Her hips buck against my mouth, her entire lower body shaking with the force of her orgasm.
Lilly’s fingers tighten in my hair with a desperate, white-knuckle grip. I don’t give her a single second of mercy. I bury my face deeper between her thighs, my tongue thrusting into her tight little hole, forcing her to take everything I give her.
A scream tears from her throat, echoing loudly off the kitchen cabinets.
The tight walls of her pussy start to contract, pulsing against my tongue.
Her hips buck against my face, her back arching off the table as the first wave of her orgasm hits her.
I stay buried, driving my tongue into wet heat, greedily licking every single drop until her thighs finally go slack against my shoulders.
Drawing a deep, ragged breath, I finally lift my head. Lilly is panting above me, her eyes unfocused, her chest rising and falling as she tries to recover.
I drop her legs from my shoulders, letting her bare feet sink back onto the floor, and rise to my full height above her. I look down at her beautiful face, a smile cutting through my features as my hand drops to the waistband of my pants.
“You know,” I drawl, “I wanted to spare your little pussy this morning.” My fingers find the metal buckle of my belt, gripping it tightly. “But I wanna fuck it way more.”
The sharp clink of the metal unbuckling echoes loudly through the quiet. I pull the leather strap free, the sound of the zipper starting to track down making her eyes fly wide. I’m rock-hard and ready to drive myself straight back to the hilt inside her and fuck her senseless.
Ding-dong.
The sudden, sharp chime of the front doorbell slices through the kitchen. Our heads snap toward the door in unison.
Lilly scrambles off the table, her face draining of color as she stares at the front door like it’s a firing squad.
My first thought? Blond guy.
My jaw sets, my hand instinctively tightening on the buckle of my belt. If that motherfucker is at her door, I’m going to drag him inside and—
“It’s my father! I was supposed to have breakfast with him this morning!”
The doorbell rings again, a sharp, impatient demand. Lilly whips her head toward the sound and then back to me, her voice frantic. “Zed, please. Just—you have to go.”
Amused, I take a step back. I reach into my pants and adjust my cock, tucking it upright against my stomach and securing it firmly beneath my waistband of my boxers. I buckle the belt back into place. It’s still obvious I’m hard if you look, but it’ll have to do.
She looks like she’s about to faint. “Now, please hide!”
“My car is in the driveway, Lilly,” I remind her.
“Oh my God, what do we do? What do I say?”
She’s spiraling, her hands fluttering in the air, but I’m already moving.
I walk past her, my boots thudding against the hardwood as I head for the front door.
I reach out, turn the lock, and pull the door wide open to face Coach.
His expression shifts from stunned to utter, freezing confusion in less than a second.
“Good morning, Coach.”