Before she knew what was happening, Murphy had her on her bed, peeled out of his jersey, and naked underneath him. The giant grin that stretched across her face felt foreign, but she couldn't help it. This was what this man did to her.
When he’d shown up at her door, she wasn’t sure what to do, but she knew this was where it would end up. While she wasn’t sure this was a good idea, she was going to soak up his goodness while she could.
She ran her hands up his strong arms, over his broad shoulders, and into his soft brown hair before pulling him down into a kiss. They lay there, hands searching, kissing, making up for lost time. The feel of his cock hardening already against her soft belly had heat pooling inside of her. As much as she wished she could, she could never get enough of him.
As she licked into his mouth, he entered her with one thrust. A groan escaped her mouth as he took over the kiss, filling all her senses. All that existed was her and Murphy in this moment.
She clung to him as he started to pump in and out. No one had ever felt as good as he did. She had never trusted anyone as much as she trusted him. No one was as good as Murphy.
Before she knew what was happening, tears were pooling in her eyes as desire coiled deep inside of her. There were emotions simmering, dangerous emotions she was not ready for.
But then he did something with his hips that emptied every thought in her head. The only thing left was the pleasure she felt building deep inside of her. She moaned as her hips met his, searching for release. Her nails dug into his back as his thrusts got harder and faster.
He hit something deep inside of her as he ground into her. She closed her eyes, seeing stars as waves of pleasure overtook her. "Fuck, Murphy," she cried out as she exploded in pleasure.
"Hillary, you feel so good," he said as he continued to work her.
Somehow, the way he moved kept her going, and her climax seemed to stretch into minutes, into hours, because all sense of time had stopped. There was nothing except for this incredible man giving her more pleasure than she could handle. As another wave of pleasure crashed into her, Murphy tensed and groaned and slammed into her one last time.
He stayed there close, panting and pressing kisses into her neck.
"That—was?—"
"Incredible," he finished for her as his breath started to return to normal.
She was still a puddle of panting, satisfied goo next to him. He cuddled into her side, peppering her with kisses.
Later, when the heat softened and the urgency melted into quiet, he slid down and rested his head against her belly. She let out a startled chuckle, threading her fingers through his hair.
“What are you doing?” she asked, amusement tinged with self-consciousness.
“Memorizing you,” he murmured, pressing his cheek against her warmth. “I love this. Every inch of you. You think I don’t notice, but I do. How soft you are. How strong. How much space that you take up in my head. You don’t even know, do you?”
She huffed, embarrassed, like she didn’t know what to do with his words. But she didn’t push him away. If there was a way, maybe she could find it. The little glimmer of hope that maybe they could work this out twinkled, no matter how much she tried to shut it down. In moments like this, it was easy to think she could let that little glimmer shine.
Murphy smiled against her skin, holding her tighter.
Murphy shifted so his chin rested on her belly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along her hip. “You know what I was thinking about today?”
She hummed, running a hand through his hair. “Enlighten me.”
“Someday, when I’m done with hockey, maybe I’ll coach kids. Or run a camp of some kind. Maybe something with my little brother.” His grin was soft, boyish, utterly unguarded. “I think I’d like that. Something steady. Something that keeps me close to family. And . . . ” He kissed her skin, just above her navel. “Maybe someone to come home to.”
For a moment, warmth flooded her chest. The picture he painted was sweet, safe, everything she’d never let herself hope for. A life built on joy and simple steadiness, on Murphy.
But the warmth quickly curdled into fear. That was exactly the life she could not give him.
"Your brother Patrick?" she asked, trying to push away the fear that was creeping in.
"Now that he’s twenty-one, he’s starting to think about what he wants to do. My sister is still sixteen, so she has time," hecontinued to talk about his family as she ran her hand through his hair, but her mind was spinning. There was a part of her who wanted a future with him.
"I don't know, I just think that sounds nice. What do you think?" he asked, smiling up at her.
"That sounds perfect," she said, because she didn't know what else to say.
She couldn’t give him that. Not the way he deserved. He was too young, too good, too golden. And she was jaded, practical, a woman who knew what obligation looked like. If she let him hope for more, wasn’t she just setting him up to resent her?
She stayed quiet, holding her breath, pretending to be soothed by the rhythm of his touch.
