FORTY
HANNAH
I’m thoroughly wornout and could sleep for hours, but Brody is sprawled across my bed with one knee up and his other leg out straight. He takes up so much space, barely fitting on the mattress, but he doesn’t seem to care. Not when he reaches up and touches my cheek, smiling in that special, secret way that crinkles his eyes and scrunches his nose.
“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs. “It looks like the wheels are turning in that pretty head of yours.”
“Nothing.” I kiss his palm. “I’m just happy.”
“So am I.” He moves onto his side, fixing the straps of my bra. “I’m still trying to figure out how you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Make everything you wear look so good. My T-shirts, my jerseys. Expensive lingerie. You’re so beautiful, Hannah, and I don’t think I could ever tell you that enough.” He kisses my back, fingers dancing over my skin. His mouth moves to my shoulder, kissing there too. “Look at us,” he says, gesturing to the mirror leaning against the wall. “We look good, don’t we?”
“Yeah.” I trace over the design of his tattoo, all of the rose petals covering the back of his hand. “We do.”
“Take a picture,” he says.
“Why? So I can post it on social media and announce to the world I’m sleeping with my brother’s hockey coach?” I laugh. “I’m sure that would go over well.”
“No.” Brody snakes an arm around my waist. His fingers fan out over my ribs, his other hand pulling at my underwear. “So I can use it to get off when I’m not with you.”
“Oh,” I breathe out. Liquid heat inundates my blood, and I squeeze my thighs together at the thought of him in a hotel room. Curtains drawn, lights down low. His hand fisting his cock while he looks at the photo of me. “Is that something you want?”
“Yes.” He snaps the waistband of my underwear against my skin, smoothing over the sting with his thumb. I want him to do it again, but so much harder. “I do.”
I have photos of him on my phone, candid snapshots I’ve taken over the last few months. There’s one of him on the ice with his backward hat and hands on his hips. Another of him in bed, glasses slipping down his nose and the crossword puzzle in his hand. One of just our hands, blurry on our walk back to his car after a night out at dinner.
I’ve seen him take photos of me too. He has the screenshot from our FaceTime call and one of me half-asleep, a pillow over my head. Me and Liv on the ice, posing with our backs against each other.
They aren’t incriminating. Anyone could’ve taken them, but something this personal, something thisintimatefeels like a big step. An announcement to the world that we’re sleeping together, but I don’t think it’s scary. Not at all.
I swipe my phone off the bedside table and hold it up, the screen covering my face. You can see Brody’s profile, a lock of hair falling across his forehead, but you wouldn’t be able to tell it was him unless you knew his tattoos like I do.
He could be any broad, big guy in bed with an unnamed blonde woman, but I know it’s us. I know it’s his thumbswiping the underside of my breast. I know it’s him inching my underwear lower, showing off the dips in my hips, and by the time I finish taking the pictures and send them to him, my body is humming with anticipation. With achingneed, because I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this beautiful man.
I toss my phone on the floor with Brody’s clothes and roll on top of him. He smiles up at me, and I touch his nose, his sharp cheekbones, unable to not smile back.
“You said something about fucking me.” Brody puts both hands on my thighs, nails scraping down to my knees. He moves his palms back up, thumbs pressing into my waist then hooking in my underwear, trying to tug the lace down. “How much longer do I have to wait before you put me out of my misery?”
“That desperate for me, huh?” I ask, lifting my ass so he can get rid of the underwear entirely. I grind over the front of his briefs, the tight and dark material doing nothing to conceal his erection from view. He’s hard and hot through the cotton, and I sigh as the head of his cock brushes against my pussy lips. “What’s the magic word, Coach?”
“Please, baby.” He blows out a breath, restraint wavering. He’s doing his best to stay still, trying not to raise his hips to meet the slow, controlled roll I’m torturing him with, but he falters. He unhooks my bra and cups both of my breasts, thumbs pinching my nipples hard enough to make me cry out. “I’ve been good.”
The way he’s rough yet gentle with me is one of my favorite things. He could be buried inside me in one quick thrust. He could cut off my air supply with a squeeze of his hand to my throat, but he doesn’t. He treats me like I’m precious, like I’madored, and there’s reverence behind the sweep of his heavy gaze. His eyes bounce all over my body as he struggles for another breath, not sure where he wants to look first.
It’s always like this: awe sparking behind his features like he’s never had me this way even though I’m so familiar with his body, I could recognize it in my sleep.
The brush of his fingertips. The whisper of a plea falling from his lips. I want to give him everything he wants and more, and I can’t believe what he wants is me.
“You’ve been so good.” I move his briefs down his thighs, leaving them tangled at his feet. He helps me adjust my position until I’m hovering above him. The heat from his body is intoxicating, stronger than any shot of liquor, and I let out a startled gasp when he teases my clit with the head of his cock. “Oh.”
“Still okay without a condom?” he asks, propping up on an elbow so he can take my nipple in his mouth. He leaves bite marks on the sensitive skin, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. “Answer me, Hannah.”
“Of course I’m okay without a condom. Are you?”
“Am I sure that I want to fuck you without any protection because I see a future with you?” The pause is heavy, telling. A hundred things I want to say as I wait for him to keep talking. “Yeah, I am.”
