He’s rolling me over, pulling my hips up, kneeling behind me, but then he stops.
“JuJu.” His voice is strangled. “What the fuck is that?”
“What does it look like?” I say into the pillow, face burning but trying to sound casual.
“It looks like—” His thumb presses slightly and I gasp. “Jesus Christ. You’re wearing a?—”
“I thought we might... you know. Since you mentioned it in Calgary.” My voice is muffled by the pillow. “Seemed like good preparation.”
“You’ve been wearing this all day?” He sounds destroyed.
“I’ve been practicing.”
“Please tell me you didn’t get this idea from one of those horrible books the WAGs read.”
“I did, actually. It’s calledIcing on the Stick.”
“Oh my God.”
“Or maybe it wasBanging the Backup Goalie. I can’t remember.”
“You’ve been walking around Toronto wearing this for me?”
“For us,” I correct. “If you want.”
“If I want?” His laugh is disbelieving. “Juliette, I’m about to lose my fucking mind.”
“So what do you want to do about it?”
“Obviously come immediately from finding out my girlfriend is secretly the filthiest person alive.” His hands run over my ass, down my thighs, back up. “Just open and gorgeous andpreparedand mine.”
Heat floods through me at his words.
I wiggle my hips slightly, teasing.
His grip tightens. “Don’t tempt me, JuJu.”
“You want it.” I wiggle again, feeling bold.
“Damn right I do.”
“So take it then.”
There’s silence behind me, his hands go still on my hips.
“Wait, what?”
I look over my shoulder at him. At the expression on his face. Shock, want, disbelief all mixed together.
“You heard me. You want it. Take it.”
“Juliette—” His voice is strained. “Are you sure? Are you actually?—”
“Yeah.” I hold his gaze. “I’m ready.”
“Jesus.” He’s breathing hard. “You can’t just—we need to—I need to get?—”
“So go get whatever you need.” I’m smiling now, feeling powerful. “I packed stuff in my bag.”
