Page 129 of Slap Shot
“That fucking word,” I say.
Her laugh is beautiful this time, full and bright. “Is spectacular better?”
“We’re getting there.” I kiss her again, and she melts into me like ice in a fire. With her tongue, with her teeth. With a hand that rests on my hip and snaps the waistband of my sweatpants hard enough to make me hiss. “God, Madeline.”
“Is it okay if I touch you?” She dances her hand across my stomach, dipping her fingers in my briefs, and I suck in a breath. “Like this?”
“You can touch me however you want,” I tell her. “I’ll like anything you do to me.”
Ruin me, I almost say, but I keep that to myself.
I kiss her collarbone. I keep my mouth on her until she’s whimpering, then I dance my thumb along the soft fabric of her bra. Her moan is wicked, a sinful thing, and when I slowly lift the material and move to the underside of her breast, she whines.
“Oh.”
“Okay?” I ask into the crook of her neck. I suck on the skin there, her throat warm under my tongue. “Too much?”
“More than okay. I told you it’s been a while, and it’s embarrassing how?—”
“Nothing about you could ever be embarrassing.”
She relaxes at that, and I close my eyes, willing myself to calm down. What’s embarrassing is how my body is reacting to her. It’s like I’ve been starved, and now I’m being fed. My cock is aching in my pants, and it’s my turn to groan when I find her hard nipple.
“Could you—” Madeline sighs and rests her hand over mine. She guides me back down her stomach, unbuttoning her jeans and lowering her zipper. “Here?”
I’m going to lose my mind. It’s already halfway gone. I’ve never moved this fast with a woman before. I like to go slow, to not do everything all a once, but when I tug the denim halfway down her thighs, I become certifiably insane.
“I’m going to be rusty,” I admit. “Way off my game.”
“Better than six years. We both might suck.” She laughs again. There’s no hesitation in the way she leans back and tips her thighs open wide. “I know I want this. I wantyou, Hudson. So badly. If it’s not great, we’ll work on it.”
“Can I look at you?”
“I’d really like it if you did.”
My hand falls away as I step back so I can see her. I don’t know where to look first—at her creamy thighs or the hint of hair sneaking out through the cut of her underwear. The hint of moisture on the white lace or the faded stretch marks on the curve of her thighs.
“You are…” I trail off. Words are hard to find. I can’t even remember my own name. “So fucking beautiful.”
I touch the bow on the front of her thong. I smile when she tilts her head back and lifts her hips. I grin when I press my thumb against her clit, holding her steady when she arches her back.
“Hudson.” She grabs my collar, nails scratching against my neck. “Please.”
I’m tempted to rip the damn underwear off, but I don’t want to rush this—rushher—so I leave them on.
I drop to my knees so I can see her better, so I canhearher better, and I put my hands on the inside of her thighs. I stroke up her legs and touch her again, right where she’s warm and wet.
Christ.
I’m a goner.
“Here?” I rub a slow circle over her clit with my thumb. Her underwear is wet, and I can’t believe I’m the one who gets to have her like this. “Do you like that?”
“Yes.” The word is barely a rasp, and she moves her hands to my hair. She grips the strands nice and rough and gives a tug. “That’s perfect.”
“Better than nice?”
“I hate you.”
