I was defenseman of the year the last year I played in Bristol. It's how I earned my spot on the national team. I can defend the hell out of Ophelia like she's the goal. Just as I wouldn't let a ball pass, no longer will the hurt get through to her. She's my goal and I will defend her with every ounce of energy I have.
And I'd like to start with some definite man-to-man coverage.
Her body trembles against mine. I'm not sure if she's cold or simply upset. It doesn't matter. I want to soothe her, as she did me.
Exactly like she soothed me. Maybe with a few new things we could try.
I don't know where these thoughts come from, but it's all I can think of. Making Ophelia feel better. Making her smile and laugh. Making her moan.
Making her see how incredible she is. "We should go far away from here, where it's just the two of us."
I feel her nod against my chest.
"How far is your place?"
"Over two hours."
Bollocks.
"How far is our place?" I look down at her. My eyes must be full of want and longing.
"About the same."
"Drat. I don't want to wait that long."
Ophelia pulls back. "That long for what?"
My hands slide down and tighten, lifting her up against me. Her legs wrap around my waist. I move one hand up to grip the base of her neck and kiss her. There's no hesitance on her part. Her mouth is warm, tasting vaguely of the wine she'd been sipping before all hell broke loose.
"Ophelia," I groan into her mouth. "Let's. Get. Out. Of. Here." I pepper each word with a kiss along her jawline and to her neck. She moans softly when I get to the soft spot behind her collar bone.
"Hotel?" she breathes as she tilts her face up to meet my gaze.
I nod, letting her slide back down me. Christ, her body feels incredible rubbing against mine. I can't wait to do it without clothing.
Ophelia pulls out her phone. "I've got one in Avon that doesn't look too seedy. I'll text you the address. Follow me there, so we don't have to come back here for our cars."
I smile. "You know I'm from Avon County, right? It's where my home is."
"Then this was all meant to be," she says with a wink.
Driving the nine or so kilometers to the hotel takes just under ten minutes. The GPS said eleven, but she's obviously as anxious for this as I am. We stand, antsy and impatient, at the check-in counter of the Avon Old Farms Hotel while the clerk painstakingly clicks through screens on the computer.
"Luxury King or Traditional King?"
"What's the difference?" Ophelia asks. I don't care personally, as long as it has plenty of room for me to shag her senseless.
"The Luxury is on the second or third floor and features a two-poster bed for $169 a night. The Traditional will be located on our first floor and features a four-poster king bed for $149 a night."
"The Traditional," Ophelia answers before I even have time to process the choices. I may run a thirty-three-kilometer-per-hour sprint, but I can't keep up with her right now. Her credit card is out and in the clerk's hands before I can protest.
As soon as the keys are presented, she snatches them and starts power walking down the hall. I adjust my stride to keep up.
"What's the hurry?" I want her to say it. I want her to say she wants me the way I want her, and nothing but our bodies pressed together, hot and sweaty, will make things right.
"Four-poster bed," she pants.
We get to the door and I put my hand over hers on the knob. "Yes, so?" I'm right behind her, so she turns, hand still under mine, to face me.
