“I care about what I eat,” I correct. She’s surprising me by talking. Hell, she’s surprising me because we haven’t had sex yet. Why are we watching a movie or talking when we’re supposed to be having sex? Isn’t that the point of no strings attached? Not that I mind, well, I kind of do because I’ve been thinking about sex all day, but I’m confused.
She rubs my leg from mid-thigh down to my ankle, but I can’t tell if it’s an absent-minded gesture or an intentional one. All I know is a hand is touching my skin and I want sex. Deanna rambles something about the movie, but obviously I’m not listening.
“Deanna.” My patience has run out.
She rolls over and glances up at me with innocent green eyes, her curly blond hair splayed over my lap. “Yes?”
“What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck are we doing?”
A slow grin pulls the corners of her mouth up. I’m immediately suspicious. “What? You only want to have sex with me, Brayden?” She tsks as if she’s disappointed.
I shove her shoulder. “You and your fucking games. Get up.”
“That was hardly a game,” she replies as she sits up and then stands.
I reach out, grab her wrist, and yank her back down to straddle my lap. “It’s a game when I’d prefer for you to be straightforward.”
“There’s no fun in that.” Her lips make a small pout while her hands slip underneath my shirt.
“For god’s sake, will you shut the fuck up and fuck me already?”
That evil grin returns. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Her mouth crashes into mine. Time speeds up as we shed our clothes and throw them haphazardly away from us, letting them fall where they may. This is what I love about being with Deanna. When she’s around, everything else on my mind falls silent. The world disappears and there’s only one person before me. One fantastically hot person who gives me one of the world’s best highs.
It’s a lot like being on the ice. Instead of the roar of the crowd fueling me, it’s her moans and sexy little sighs. Instead of a hit or needing to chase after the puck spurring me into action, it’s her biting and nipping my lips and shoulders, her nails dragging down my skin, and her hips grinding over mine. She brings the same kind of high as winning the most important game of the season.
Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to walk away. I can’t walk away from hockey and now, I’ve found another addiction.
“I swear you’re the best fuck,” Deanna sighs afterward, resting her forehead on my shoulder. “It’s ridiculous.”
At that, I smile. “Why?”
“No one should be that good.”
“Wish I could say I was sorry.”
“No you don’t. How old are you?” she asks.
“Thirty-one. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.” She sighs and lifts her head. “If I get up, will there be a spot here when I come back? Be warned that if you say no, then I’m not getting up at all.”
“Get up and we’ll move to my bed.”
She smiles, happy with my answer. Once we’re all cleaned up and lying in bed, she asks another question, “Do you ever see yourself getting married?”
“Maybe. You?”
“That’s the ultimate goal, but my best friend says I’m too high maintenance.” That last part ends with a grumble.
“Are you high maintenance?” She doesn’t seem so, but what do I know?
“No.” Deanna props herself up on one elbow to look at me. “She says my standard is ridiculous, but it’s not. All I want is to not feel like I’m settling for someone, that’s all. How is it my fault that I can’t find someone I don’t want to live without?”
I chuckle, which makes her frown.
“What?”