“Hey.” He snags the hem of his jersey I’m wearing. “I was looking for you.”
I steer him toward his bedroom.
“Still early. Let’s go back to bed.”
“Exactly my line of thinking.” He follows me into the bedroom, and we snuggle under the covers together.
He slips his hand below his jersey where he finds me bare.
“Christ, Winter.” He dips his head to kiss my mouth. “A Fire jerseyandno panties? Are you trying to kill me?”
I lift the jersey to give him better access. “I love wearing your clothes,” I tell him. “Especially your hockey stuff. Does that make me a jersey chaser or something?”
His other hand tangles in my hair as he kisses along my jawline. “No,” he murmurs. “You’re a jersey catcher, maybe.”
“Are you saying I caught you?”
“Absolutely.” He’s got the jersey up over my breasts now, and I raise my arms so he can take it all the way off.
He lowers his mouth to my bare nipples, which are taut with need. When his lips close firmly over one nipple and he starts rolling the other one between his thumb and forefinger, my eyes drift closed from the overwhelming sensation.
I arch beneath his touch, and when I feel his thick length against my thigh, I start rocking into him.
All of a sudden, he flips us so I’m on top and straddling him.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I brace my hands on his ridiculously ripped abs.
“Do you want to lead?” His green eyes are hot with desire as he keeps his hands on my hips.
“Um…” Yeah? God, it’s been so long since I’ve felt in control of anything.
“You prefer me to be on top,” he says like he knows what I’m thinking.
“Okay.” I move to climb off of him, but his hands lock onto my hips and hold me in place.
“Wait. Winter.” His tone is serious. “I think you want this.”
I think I do, too.
“I’m not very experienced with different positions,” I admit. “I slept with a few guys in Manhattan, but it wasn’t…”Like this. “It was always very vanilla.”
“Vanilla?” His mouth quirks up.
“Yes.” I shove at his shoulder, and he grabs my wrist and laughs. “You know what I mean—it wasn’t very passionate.”
“Why’d you date those guys then?” His tone is almost possessive, and I could swear he sounds…
“Are you jealous?” I say in disbelief.
“No.” He says it fast. Superfast.Toofast.
“You are.” I give him a look. “I heard about your partying side and all the women. So don’t act like you could date and I couldn’t.”
“I’m not.” His tense jaw relaxes. “Okay, maybe I was. I just don’t like thinking of you with anyone else because I don’t think anyone else gets you like I do.”
The rawness of the confession catches me off-guard.
My irritation with him disappears.
