Pucked Off (Pucked 5)

“I don’t want you to go.”

He regards me skeptically. “So you want me to stay, or you’ll let me stay?”

I flatten a palm on his chest. “Both.” I go for light, because his mood seems to have darkened again. “I’d be a special kind of stupid to kick you out of my bed.”

He snorts a laugh.

I kiss his chin. “I’m warning you, though, I’m a bed hog, so don’t be surprised if you end up with six inches of mattress.”

“I think I’ll be able to manage.” He settles back against the pillows. “So, um, are you tired now, or…” he trails off.

“Or?” I’m not sure what he’s getting at. Maybe he wants to watch TV or talk some more, although my brain is practically fried from the orgasms. So many orgasms. More than I’ve ever had at one time—or in a twenty-four-hour period, actually.

His hand settles on my hip. “We could have sex again.”

I blink a few times, trying to determine whether he’s serious. He looks serious. And hungry in a not-for-food way. “Right now?”

“Or later. You know, if it’s too soon.” He moves his hand up a few inches to my waist, bringing his erection into view.

He’s already half-hard again. “Oh wow.” I drag a fingertip along the length of him.

His hand covers mine. “So an important thing you might want to know is that hockey players have pretty high stamina.”

“I see that.” I wrap my fingers around him and squeeze.

Lance’s mouth drops open, and his eyes roll up. “You gotta tell me when you’re tired, or you need a break, ’cause I can do this all night with you.”

“All night?”

Lance hooks his palm behind my knee and pulls it up as he readjusts my position so I’m suddenly on top of him. He shifts around under me until I feel his erection right up against me, smooth and hard and almost entirely ready.

“All night,” he confirms.

“What about sleeping?” I brace my hands on his chest. His muscles flex under my fingers, and that hot look in his eyes turns to fire when I roll my hips.

“We can take naps in between.”I roll over and notice there is no warm, solid body preventing me from hogging the bed. I crack a lid and run my hand over the empty space beside me. The sheets are cool to the touch. My stomach sinks and my heart jumps into my throat at the thought that Lance has disappeared in the middle of the night.

Except then I hear the sound of cupboard doors opening and closing downstairs. I shove my face into his pillow and grin. It smells like his cologne. My entire bed smells like Lance. And sex. So much sex. I stretch out and groan at the aches already starting to make themselves known. Not that I mind.

Lance is an incredible, doting lover. Even if Kristi was lying, she was right about one thing: he’s certainly a giver.

I feel around on the floor for something to throw on so I can go see what he’s up to. I find his dress shirt and push my arms through the sleeves, fastening a few buttons in the dark. The shirt is huge on me, the sleeves ending six inches past the tips of my fingers until I roll them up, and the bottom reaches almost to my knees.

I pad down the stairs in the semi-dark. The light over the oven is on, illuminating a bare-chested Lance, who is rooting through my cabinets, mumbling to himself.

I watch him for a little while, appreciating the defined muscles in his arms, the broad expanse of his back, the ripple of his abs and the deep V leading my eye down… Holy crap. He’s naked. He turns a little, giving me an amazing view of his perfectly toned ass. God, his ass is unreal. Like every other part of him.

“Giving the neighbors a free show?” I ask.

Lance fumbles with whatever he’s holding, and several items fall out of the cupboard, hitting his chest before they drop to the counter and then to the floor.

“Hey. Shit. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He turns in my direction, and the bag of chips he’s holding hits the floor. “Are you wearing my shirt?”

I glance down, suddenly a little self-conscious. It’s buttoned cockeyed, one side hanging lower than the other. Half of my right breast is popping out.

I adjust it to cover myself. “It was the only thing I could find without turning on a light.”

“You should throw out all your clothes and start wearing my shirts.” He makes a C with both hands and holds them up in front of his face.

“What’re you doing?”

“Making a mental picture for when I’m whacking off later.”

I duck my head and laugh. God, he makes me feel sexy. “You’re going to give my neighbor a heart attack with this.” I gesture to his lack of clothing.