Hard Hit (IceCats 3)

“Why? What you see is what you get.”

She grins. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Red.”

“Movie?”

“Princess and the Frog. Tiana’s hot.”

She snorts. “Did you go to college?”

“I did. Michigan.”

“Nice. What was your major?”

“Computer science.”

“Super cool. Do you miss that, or was hockey always the goal?”

“Hockey was always the goal. It was my way out.”

“Way out of what?” she asks, and I realize I’ve said too much.

I shrug. “You know, same ol’ story, bad childhood, raised by my coach. Classic hockey kid story. You either had it great, or you had it bad and had to overcome. I was the latter.”

Her eyes are soft as her gaze moves over my face. “Care to share?”

I flash her a winning grin. “I’d rather not.”

She leans on one hand, lacing the fingers on her other with mine. “I’ve never been in a real relationship, but I told my mom I was seeing someone. I’m serious, so I hope you are.”

“Wow, Counselor. Pulling out the big wordage.”

She grins. “I know how to get what I want.”

“I see. But remember, Counselor, I know how to get what I want too,” I say, and her eyes flash with heat before I capture her mouth with mine. I can taste the salmon and the rice pilaf she ordered. I deepen the kiss, hoping to distract her, but she’s very strong-willed.

She pulls away, shaking her finger at me. “Give it up, Litman.”

I eye her, and she sets me with a look. I sigh. I know if I made it clear I really didn’t want to tell her, she wouldn’t push. I want to tell her. I am serious about this. As always when I talk about my childhood, my heart starts to race, not in a scared way, more like an “I hope she doesn’t pity me” way. “I didn’t know my dad well. He was a drunk and died when I was in college. When I was thirteen, real deep in travel hockey, my mom found a new husband with a set of girls, had more girls, and left me behind.”

“That’s rough.”

I shrug. “I wish I had a mom—hell, it would have been cool to have a dad—but I don’t. It is what it is, which is why I’m so adamant that Celeste has both, even if it’s just me.”

“Which is why Lilly running out on her sucks more than it should.”

I shrug. “I admit that I am taking that as a hit. I feel that if I had been good enough not to cheat on, she would have stayed for Celeste. I blame myself.”

“Don’t,” she says firmly as her fingers squeeze mine. “You can’t take the blame for shitty people. You’re amazing, and Celeste is so blessed to have you, Kirby.”

I nod. “I’m blessed to have her. She’s everything.”

“She is,” she agrees as her thumb moves along mine. “I think anyone who gets to know you knows you’re special.”

I flash her a goofy grin. “You’re just sucking up,” I tease, needing to lighten the mood. Shit is getting thick around here.

“Maybe,” she says with a wink. “I gotta get you to like me again.”

“I never stopped, even after over a year. I’ve always liked you.”

Her eyes brighten. “Same.”

I capture her jaw between my fingers and bring her to me. “So, I had a bad childhood, you’ve never been in a long-term relationship, Celeste is everything, and we like each other.”

“I think that’s a pretty damn good briefing of our lunch. Oh wait, the piccata was better than the salmon.”

I bring her in closer, our lips almost touching. “Right. I forgot. I was bewitched by you.”

She waggles her brows. “Same.”

We press our lips together, and everything fades away like always. The room, the food, the anxiety of telling her my story. Everything. The only thing left is my lips, her lips, and my heart.

Hopefully, it stays intact.

We don’t even make it to her bedroom.

I push her into the back of her closed apartment door, lifting her up and cupping her ass in my hands. She grips me by the back of my neck, our mouths dancing as we pull at each other’s clothes. I push her skirt all the way up, sliding her thong to the side before filling her completely. The back of her head hits the door hard as I nuzzle my mouth into her neck. I don’t move; I just relish the feel of her pussy around my cock. She’s so wet, so hot, and perfect. I run my teeth along her flesh, her jaw, before capturing her lips once more.

She cups my cheek, drawing the kisses out of me as her pussy and thighs surround me. I slowly start to thrust up into her, not wanting this to end but also trying to control myself from blowing my load so quickly. I just love the feel of her. I pull back, holding her up by my hips as I pull open her shirt, buttons flying, before I bury my face in her chest. I lick her, kiss her skin as she cries out, gasping out for me. Her breasts are firm, thick, and it’s incredible how her nipples look so real but they’re not. I don’t care. I don’t need nipples, or hell, even breasts.