Page 48 of Flirty Pucking Wolf
My hand slides up the leg of her black slacks, seeking the spot behind her knee that I know is ticklish.
“Don’t you dare,” she warns. “Not unless you want something to ache for a whole other reason.”
My fingers tiptoe back down her calf, away from the danger zone. She has brothers. I know this isn’t an idle threat. I scoop her up in my arms and stand. The room isn’t big, so it only takes a couple of steps to get to the king-size bed. Mindful of Sophie’s injury, I place her gently on the bed and straighten so I can remove my shirt. She’s reaching behind to unclasp her bra and then reaching to open the closure of her slacks.
I cover her hands with mine. “Lay back, I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything.” My wink is flirty. “Enjoy your endorphins.”
We work together to slide her pants down her legs without putting any stress on her injured ankle. The lacy blue panties that match her bra are all she’s wearing. I remove them with my teeth after kissing my way up her uninjured leg. Knowing how important it is for Sophie to keep her ankle elevated, I don’t take any chances and place both legs over my shoulders. Safety first.
The scent of her arousal is intoxicating. The taste of her is ambrosia. I’d be happy to do this for the rest of my life. Forget hockey, forget dance, just let me be in this bed with Sophie. Let the outside world forget we exist.
But that’s not possible. So we’ll have to take what we can from the moments we have left. I take my time nuzzling along the inside of Sophie’s slender thighs, dropping teasing kisses and little nips as I get ever closer to her core. The strong muscles of her legs tremble from desire. Her ankle rubs against my back when I finally apply my tongue and fingers where her whimpers and pleas have been begging me to be. When she’s trembling from the aftershocks of her first orgasm, I give one last languid lick, grab a condom from the hotel nightstand, and make quick work of sheathing myself. Thank goodness Sophie is a goddess of flexibility so we can keep her ankle elevated as I slowly push in her.
We both sigh at the rightness of being together. I force myself to remain in the moment and not think about how this will be one of the last times we’re together like this. All that matters is now, and I’m going to give her every last part of me because after loving Sophie, I’ll never love anyone like this again. With every stroke and caress, I let my body tell her what I can’t say with words. When we’ve both reached our release and are cuddling under the covers, I want to weep. For the first time, I’m thinking about giving up on my vow not to have kids. I like kids; I love my nephews. It’s not that I think I’ll be a bad father; I’d make sure everyone had what they needed. But I know I’d be doing it to make Sophie happy, and I’m afraid I’d resent it. I can’t do that to her or to our children. I won’t ever let someone I love feel like they weren’t the life I dreamed of.
20
SOPHIE
They lost.Again. The Devil Birds need to win the remaining three games of this wild card round to remain in the hunt for the Dickinson Cup. The next two games will be back in Atlantic City, so they’ll have home-ice advantage. Trevor hasn’t said anything aloud, but I can tell by his slumped shoulders when he thinks no one’s looking that he thinks their season is doomed. Even with a hockey-playing brother, I never knew how superstitious hockey players are with their rituals and lucky socks and stuff. Trevor’s mumbling about how things he's done all season long are no longer working.
He’s started talking in his sleep about how maybe they’ve been right all along and he doesn’t belong on the team. That he’s not good enough and only on the team because of nepotism and the rest of the team has carried him all season long. It breaks my heart to hear him say those things, for him only to feel vulnerable enough to share it when he’s asleep and unaware. There’s nothing I can do for him to make it better other than hold him and whisper back that he’s good enough, he deserves to be there, he’s an important part of the team’s success. I hope my words sink into his subconscious and quiet the nastiness his mind conjures up when he’s not strong enough to fight back.
Five more days. That’s all I have with Trevor. We’ve started to learn the choreography of our dance for the finals tomorrow. It’s been two days since my injury during dress rehearsal. My ankle is healed, and I’m cleared to dance. Bless shifter healing. I’m taking Trevor’s strengths—literally and artistically—into account while planning the choreography, including lots of lifts, which will help me not put too much stress on my ankle. Even though it’s healed, I know the risks of reinjury if I put too much strain on it too soon.
We’re alone in the barn’s dance studio. We do our taped rehearsals with Nigel at Devil’s Den but having private time to dance, just the two of us, without having to filter anything, is freeing.
“Argh!” Trevor yells, pulling at his hair in frustration because he missed a step.
“Hey,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to his pec. “It’s okay.”
His eyes are closed as he presses a kiss to my forehead.
“Are you okay?” I ask. Obviously he’s not, but I don’t know if it’s because of dance or hockey or us.
“Five days,” he says.
My breath catches. “What?”
“Five days until the finale. Of the show.” In a softer voice, he adds, “Of us.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “That’s what we agreed to. It’s the right thing to do. To drag it on would only hurt you.” There’s no holding back the sadness in my voice.
“Hurt me? What do you mean?” His brows draw together as he looks down at me. I step out of his arms and start to pace. If he’s holding me while I tell him the truth, it will break me when he lets me go.
He holds out his hand, and in a moment of weakness, I place mine in his. He gives it a gentle squeeze. “What do you mean about hurting me?”
I pull my hand from his, my shoulders hunched under the weight of what I need to tell him.
“Soph?”
“We agreed it was just going to be for the run of the show. A fling,” I say.
“We did,” he says evenly.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Trevor. I can’t give you what you want.” I swallow heavily, trying to keep my sobs from bubbling up.
“What is it you think I want?”
