Dirty Score (Rough Riders Hockey 3)

“What if he finds— Holy fuck.” He reached up and stilled her hands with one of his. “Kilbourne. Kilbourne is going to tell everyone—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Cole is going to be your best friend tomorrow.

If he does what I told him to do, he’s going to be taking Ashlee to bed in about half an hour and calling you the dumbass tomorrow for bailing. Just tell him if he talks, he won’t be getting any of your leftovers next time.”

She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and he cut a look at the numbers lighting the strip above the door. This had to

be the slowest elevator ride in the history of the twenty-first century.

“You’re not talking like you,” he said. “You’re not acting like you.”

“You wouldn’t know, would you? You haven’t seen or spoken to me in a year. A lot can happen in a year.”

Ouch.. “Okay, I totally deserve that. But this isn’t—”

“As for Tate, I’m certainly not going to tell him about this. And neither are you. None of us needs the useless stress that would create. Don’t even get me started on the topic of how many of my friends he fucked during visits home after I left for college. Besides, we’re grown adults, Rafe. We can fuck whoever we want to fuck. I certainly don’t tell him who to—”

“Please stop saying that.” He couldn’t breathe.

She wrapped her arms behind his neck, leaned into him, and pulled his head down. Her breasts pillowed against his chest, full and soft. Her abdomen rested against his gut, flat and tight. Her hips pressed and rocked against his, rubbing against his cock.

He had never felt anything so heartbreakingly perfect in his entire life.

“What don’t you want me to say?” Her lips were a breath from his, her eyes hot, heavy lidded, and direct. “Fuck?” She said the word slowly. Deliberately. Softly. And Rafe couldn’t keep himself from watching her mouth move as she said the dirty word he preferred not to hear out of a woman’s mouth. A word that—coming from Mia—created flash-fire in his blood. “Does it turn you on to hear me say I want you to fuck me?”

“No.” He had to stop and deliberately focus on drawing his next breath. “No, no, no.”

She laughed, the sound soft and naughty. “Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes it does.”

She moved against him, and pressure pulsed in his cock. Spread through his pelvis. Gathered at the base of his spine.

“Jesus.” Nothing had ever felt as good as Mia’s body against his. He’d dreamed, fantasized, but never, never believed he would ever know the reality of it—so much sweeter, so much stronger, so much deeper than his imagination had been able to conceive.

But part of him, that deeply loyal part she’d talked about, knew he shouldn’t know the reality.

Rafe squeezed his eyes closed to cut off the sight of one of his longest-standing fantasies: Mia’s beautiful face drenched with the raw desire of wanting him.

He needed to push her back and walk away.

He needed to pull her closer and hold on.

“I want you to fuck me, Rafe.” Her voice was husky and dripping lust. “And I want you to fuck me like you mean it. Like you want it. Like you love it. I want you to fuck me like you’re hungry for it. Like you can’t get enough. I want you to fuck me so perfectly, I’ll never need you to fuck me again. I want us to fuck and forget.”

Ding.

Rafe heard the doors slide open. Felt Mia ease away. But he didn’t move.

“… fuck me so perfectly, I’ll never need you to fuck me again…”

Something stirred inside him. Something vague, deep, and unpleasant.

“…fuck and forget…”

His heart, so full and aching just seconds ago, deflated until it felt like it was crumbling. He shook his head and opened his eyes. Mia stood between the doors, holding them open, her gaze expectant.

“No, Mia.” Hurt darkened his voice, and hearing it made him realize just how quickly she’d fileted him open. Just how stupidly hopeful he’d been. How completely unrealistic. “I’m not a rebound guy.”

“Rebound?” Her voice held a note of incredulity. Turning, she hit the Door Hold button and approached him. Winding her arms around his neck again, she slid that delicious body along his and held his gaze with a look that was pure Mia—open, kind, warm, and affectionate. “You’re right, Rafe, you’re not a rebound guy. You could never be a rebound guy. And you sure as shit are not, and will never be, my rebound guy.”