She lets out a noise that's a cross between a sigh and a moan and then she's kissing me, long and hard, as I walk us into herbedroom. Even though we're alone in the apartment, I close the bedroom door, because the last logical brain cell I have that hasn't been splintered by lust knows that about forty members of my overbearing, nosy family know how to get into this apartment. Then press her back into it, using it to help me hold her up so I can move my hands, not that I don't love grabbing her ass because, Lord, it is one fine ass. But I need to touch more of her, all of her. She's wearing far too many clothes. We both are.
As my mouth moves to her throat I press my hips into the center of her to keep us against the door. Mac moves her hands from my hair to the back of my shirt and as she fists it, she yanks it up. I lift my arms and let her pull it over my head and then immediately bury my face in her neck again. I inhale deeply as I suck the skin there. She smells like peaches and I instantly decide it’s my new favorite fruit.
"Conner…" I pull back to see those light eyes of hers sweeping across my exposed chest as her hands slide up my shoulders. "You're… unreal. Like how does one person look like this without Photoshop?"
I smile, because who the hell wouldn’t. “Hockey, babe.”
“Praise Lord Stanley,” Mac whispers as her hands glide over my pecs greedily.
"Actually Lord Stanley didn't invent hockey. He just donated the trophy. The sport was invented in the United Kingdom of all places and…" She's staring at me with the deadliest STFU expression. "And I am going to shut up and get you naked before I ruin the mood entirely. Please feel free to go back to ogling me like a lion eyes raw meat."
“Thank you, I will,” Mac replies and kisses me quick, but hard.
My fingers trace their way up her rib cage, finding their way to the black mesh edging of her sports bra. She makes theseincredible fluttery moans as I explore, fingertips skirting the edge of the fabric and thumb pads sliding over the swells of her breasts, rubbing her pebbled nipples through the thin fabric. Finally, I have to put her down so I can explore even more. I wrap my arms around her back and feel her legs hook even tighter around my bare waist.
As eager as I am, I don't throw her down on the bed. I lay her down gently and hover above her, slowly lowering myself onto her. I'm savoring every second of this that I can because I don't know how we got here or if we'll ever get here again.
Chapter 15
Mac
We learn in school that self-analyzing is not a good idea. It’s hard to see yourself objectively and you don’t usually have the ability to review the motives behind your own behavior. I have a mentor, Doctor Madeline Fleury, who I check in with every week about work and my personal life, but not this week because of Christmas. All psych interns do this, to review cases but also to make sure our own mental health is on track. Madeline, as she insists I call her, has been really great helping me navigate my breakup with Beckett. I don’t know what she’d say about what I’m about to do. Is it reckless? Is it a bad idea? Is it the start of something? Is it foolish? All of the above? All I know is I’ve had a really rough year and I just want to have sex with a hot boy. So that’s what I’m going to do.
Fooling around with a hot, nice man built like he was meant for sex is a gift. I won’t turn it down. Conner pulls back again, and the heated look in his eyes cools a little. “Mac, princess, tell me you want it, loud and clear. If you meant a word of that you said to Ten?—”
I wrap my arms around his thick neck and pull his lips backto mine. I want to be wild and free, even if the potential consequences scare the shit out of me. "I want you to give me the fuck of my life. You promised, now deliver.”
Conner grins, wild and bold as he rolls off the bed, and stands beside it, reaching for the front of his joggers. Reality slaps me in the face. I’m in way over my head. Conner probably has more sexual conquests than hockey trophies. And he hasa lotof hockey trophies. I’m not exactly a naive virgin but I haven’t had a real one-night stand. Beckett was supposed to be my college fling and we ended up with each other for years. So will I be able to impress Mr. Sexy Skates here?
“Mac… you look like you’re changing your mind…” he whispers, leaning forward and pressing his mouth to the sensitive curve of skin above my clavicle. “You can. I get it.”
“No. I just…” I let out a sheepish giggle. “I mean, has anyone ever turned you down?”
“Honestly? No. But there’s a first time for everything,” Conner replies. “And it’s okay. My ego can take another hit.”
“My only thought right now is should I take off my pants or should you,” I reply boldly, and he grins down at me.
"I'll take off mine while you take off yours," he suggests. "Teamwork makes the dream work."
I giggle at him as I reach for the waistband on my scrubs. He drops his joggers in one quick motion and if he was wearing underwear, it went down to his ankles with them. I can’t help but stare at his erection because, I mean, it’srightthere. And last time I saw it, I was too panicked and embarrassed to take a good look. Now… well damn, how can I not?
“This is not an even playing field,” he murmurs and palms his cock. “I’m naked and you’ve still got on your sports bra and underwear.”
“Then maybe you should do something about that,” I tell him.
He's back on the bed before I can blink. His hands slip under my bra, and the rough patches on the pads of his fingers from his hockey gloves send a deep quiver down my spine as they graze my nipples before he pushes the whole bra up and off my body. I exhale a moan and he kisses it away before moving his mouth to my breasts. He sucks and licks and nips at my right and then my left until the pulse between my legs pounds like a snare drum in a marching band.
I’ve heard that a woman can come from breast play but I never believed it until now. And I don’t want to come this way. I want to comewithhim, not without him, so I reach for those panties he forgot to take off. I push at them as best I can, with an urgency I can’t be bothered to hide. Without taking his lips off my skin, he helps, and the next thing I know he’s using his feet to push my underwear down my legs and off my ankles.
“Oh god. Oh fuck. Please stop!” I pant and wiggle. He nips my left nipple one last, quick time and immediately sits up in the space between my legs.
He puts his hands up like I’m holding a gun, but his smile is anything but fearful or worried. “Sorry. Were you going to come?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
He puts his arms down and shrugs. “It’s been known to happen.”
“You talented bastard,” I hiss back, like I’m offended by his arrogance when in fact I’m even more turned on by it. Because it’s not arrogance, it’s confidence.