Hot Puck (Rough Riders Hockey 2)

“Beckett…God…please…”

He groaned. “But, fuck, it’s so good.”

Eden pressed her face into the comforter and whimpered, absorbing every firework of pleasure. “Can’t…wait…”

Beckett drove deep, pressed his chest to her back, and stilled. He slid one hand down her arm, covered her hand, and pried her fingers from the comforter, threading them with his. With her head turned, she found herself staring at their joined hands, their wrists both bound in bracelets from the event. His other arm stretched overhead, his fingers tangling in her hair. His weight sank into her and drove him even deeper, and he settled there a long moment, his heavy breaths in her ear, his quick heartbeat on her back.

Fear burned hot and fast. Eden waited for claustrophobia to close in. But Beckett’s fingers flexed around hers, loosening and tightening back up, and affection shoved her fear aside.

She closed her eyes and soaked in the feeling of being so completely…taken. So completely…owned. Something she’d never believed herself capable of allowing again.

“I can’t remember…sex being this fucking good…” he panted. “This is all I could think about all damn week. Seeing you, talking to you, feeling you. Being inside you. Fuck, this is crazy.” Then he turned his head and pressed his mouth to her neck.

Emotions coiled and built and tears burned her eyes. Tears of joy. Tears of appreciation. Tears over the realization that she wasn’t as completely broken as she’d believed.

A sudden and fierce affection for Beckett blossomed. Beckett and his confidence, his sweetness, his patience. She’d spent two years hiding from life. A fear only Beckett had been able to break through, allowing her to step back into life. Really step back into life.

His groan vibrated over her skin, and he started to move again. But this was different. This was a sensual, deep pull and drive that stole her breath just as intensely as the frenzied grind from before. And, the way it had their first night together, the rhythm seemed to simply glide into place. Eden lifted to meet his thrusts, took his hungry mouth with the same need to consume and be consumed. As their passion deepened, he drove harder and faster, hammering a familiar yet fresh pleasure through her body.

“Eden… Fuck, baby…” His teeth grazed her shoulder. “Wanna feel you come. Wanna feel you get all wet. Wanna feel you squeeze all around me. God, you feel so fucking good.”

His words kicked the heat up another notch. He seemed to read her every sound, intensifying the strength and speed to drive her directly to the edge.

Her body reached, stretched, tightened. Damn, it was so intense. So all-encompassing. Her free hand clutched at his forearm.

“Oh yeah,” he rasped in her ear with a sexy thrill in his tone. “I feel it. Mmm, it’s comin’. God, I wish you could feel what you do to me. Open and let go. Let go.” He pressed his mouth above her ear. “Let me have you, Eden. All of you.”

She relaxed, released her muscles, and his next thrust acted like a bomb. The orgasm exploded deep inside her. She cried out, and her body seized as ecstasy rocketed through her. She choked and moaned. Bucked and writhed. And the pleasure seemed to go on and on and on.

The climax was still twisting and shuddering through Eden when Beckett broke. With his face pressed to her neck, his hips pumped in a fierce succession. His growl vibrated over her skin, and his jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth around curses. His own pleasure ravaged him into tremors.

When he finally collapsed, his full weight on her, Eden sank into the mattress with no complaints. She let her mind slip away, floating on the bliss that always seemed to characterize her time with Beckett.

15

Long, quiet minutes passed while Beckett caught his breath and let his heartbeat come back to normal. But his head was still floating when he eased the weight of his body off Eden, rolled to his side, and pulled her with him. He curled around her, wrapping her in his arms, burying his face in her hair.

“Baby,” he whispered, “you fuckin’ destroy me.”

She hummed, and her hand slid over his forearm, pausing to spin the bracelet still on his wrist a few times. Her own arm was still adorned with half a dozen bracelets in different colors.

God, his heart felt too big for his chest. He ached with the fullness beneath his ribs. Every time he saw her, he learned something new, like peeling back another layer. And his feelings for Eden seemed to be multiplying at a terrifying rate.

He glanced at the clock on her nightstand. They still had time before she had to leave. He kissed her head and whispered, “Want to shower with me?”

When she didn’t answer, didn’t so much as move, he propped himself up on his elbow and leaned over to look at her. And found her asleep.

His heart squeezed, and a smile lifted his mouth. Beckett pressed his face into her soft, fragrant hair again, trying to make sense of the way this woman made his stomach twist, his heart float, and his body crave.

With a shake of his head, Beckett pushed himself up slowly, trying not to wake her. He looked around the room—really looked—for the first time. And it was even worse than at first, lust-hazed glance.

This wasn’t a room; it was a cell.

The basement had cinder-block walls, with two small windows on the back of the town house and two half windows on the front—all of them covered in bars. Exposed plumbing pipes crisscrossed along the ceiling, and utility carpet covered an uneven cement floor. The only furniture was the bed they were on, a wooden nightstand, a metal desk and chair, and one bookcase. And every piece was ancient.

Eden had obviously done what she could to dress it up. Despite the dim, depressing overall feel of the space, it was clean and neat and it smelled nice, filled with a relaxing, breezy floral scent. The walls were painted a pale yellow, adding a little spark. All her books were lined up neatly. Everything on the desk had a place except one textbook, open in the center. There was no kitchen, just a hotplate, a microwave, and a mini fridge.

A strange unease filtered into his post-sex high. He pushed to his feet and turned toward the only other door, which he assumed had to be a bathroom. Pushing the partially open door wide, he clicked on a light. Yep, bathroom. But…man, really nothing more than a toilet, a tiny stand-up shower she could probably barely turn around in, and a single sink basin, its pipes exposed beneath.