He knows what I want—I’m sure it’s the same thing he wants. I need to know how he felt about my letter and our growing need to be together. There are so many things we should talk about but our time together is so limited.
I reach up and cup the side of his face, searching for answers to questions I haven’t asked. Yet.
“Did you find the letter?” I ask after a moment.
His eyes lock with mine. “I did.”
“Was it…too much?”
“Too much?” He pulls me closer, hands on my hips. “It was another snapshot into your soul, baby. It’s part of you that I needed to see. And I want you to know—you’re not a mess. You’re not awkward or weird or any of the things you think you are. I think you’re beautiful. Intelligent. Hard-working. Caring. What about those things would I have you change?”
Heat floods my face.
No one has ever given me compliments like this before. Not since my mom died.
Certainly not a hot, sweet hockey player who’s been rocking my world, both in bed and out.
I can’t think of anything to say that would adequately express how I feel so I lift to my tiptoes and kiss him. Hard. Sliding mytongue between his lips and showing him how much what he said means to me. How muchhemeans to me.
And I think he gets it because his hands dig into my hair and he kisses me back. I kick off my shoes and press myself against him, our tongues twirling and dueling, a passionate game of cat and mouse. His mouth is firm but simultaneously tender, one hand on my ass as he draws me as close as possible.
I feel his erection and move my hand down to cup it through his shorts.
“He missed me too,” I pant.
“Yes, he did.” He backs me toward the bed. “I need to be inside you, Jayne. Now.” His voice ends on a growl and my body tenses in anticipation.
He pushes me face first onto the bed and slaps my ass. “Hands and knees,” he commands, stopping my hand when I try to unbutton my denim skirt. “Leave it.” He yanks it up over my ass. “You’re wearing panties.” His voice drops an octave. “What was the rule?”
Crap.
I wasn’t going to get on a plane in a short skirt without panties, but I meant to take them off before getting here, and in my excitement, it slipped my mind.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Now you have to be punished.”
My heart skips a beat. I’m not afraid, just unsure what that means.
“What, um…punished how?” I stammer, glancing over my shoulder.
His gaze is semi-stern but his eyes are twinkling. “Don’t. Move.” He turns and goes into the bathroom and comes out with something I can’t see.
“What is that?”
He runs his hand over my backside. “You trust me, right?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“Good.”
My breath hitches as I wait for him to do whatever he’s going to do. I’m terrified from a sexual perspective but it’s a fun anxiety, the same kind you have just before the lights go out in a haunted house. You know it’s not real but there’s still that irrational fear of the unknown.
He tugs my panties down and for a moment I’m self-conscious. I can’t see him but my girlie parts are bare and fully on display for him, basically at face level since I feel him kneeling behind me. Then strong, warm hands knead my cheeks with varying levels of pressure, eventually stroking down the backs of my thighs and a sigh of pleasure escapes me.
“There’s my girl, getting in the mood for me.”
His voice alone simultaneously soothes and arouses me, so my body is fighting disparate sensations.
