Fingers shaking, my nerves frayed and raw, I fumbled with his buckle. Gentle eyes grounded me as he cupped my cheek and kissed me. My scent lingered and I craved the way I tasted on his lips. Everything before tonight had been clean and narrowed lines. Sex had been one dimensional. Tonight was messy, fast, and I liked the disorder. My heart was a drum roll, the pressure building inside me, for once there was no set plan, and I didn’t care. I wanted him.
His thumb traced softly against my cheek as he stood. His hot eyes held me steady. Mark moved my hands from the clasp of his belt and unlatched it. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. My tongue felt thick in my mouth as I admired the smooth muscles of his chest. The tattooed sleeves of his arms stopped at the shoulder. The rigid landscape of his stomach was only interrupted by a set of numbers, 42.995640 and -71.454789, the ink spelling out in sequence along his left lower rib.
I sat there, quiet, the tips of my fingers tracing the numbers, filing away my questions for later as his skin puckered under my touch. And it was only a second, maybe two, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood, goose bumps raging along my limbs when he spoke, “Hey.”
He held his hand out, his smile spreading, curling up on the left. The warmth of his palm gave me the courage to do what I wanted. Instead of standing, I lowered myself down to my knees and he released his hold. I heard his rushed breath as I unzipped his pants, and he helped me as I pulled them and his underwear down to the floor. Mark only took a small step backward to push his discarded clothing away. The motion distracted me, and when I raised my eyes, I had to stifle my gasp. Mark fully naked was a shock to the system. The sharp lines of his lean hips poured down into athletic thighs that framed the hard length of his cock. He was perfect, beautiful. I licked my lips, hiding how they trembled. Insecurity flickered through me and my pulse soared until it pounded its way to my temples.
Mark ran the fingers of his left hand through my hair as he tipped my chin up with his right. My hesitant eyes raised inch by gradual inch until I met his vulnerable gaze. “God. I…” His jaw was tight. His voice was clipped, strained as he whispered, “Fucking want you.” And the sound of it, the way he stared at me like I could ruin his entire world, it gave me power.
I wasn’t the only one baring it all. I answered my doubt by wrapping my fingers around his length. He groaned, pushing his fingers into my hair, holding the back of my head. His hand fisted through the strands as I licked the salty bead that had formed on the tip of his dick. His skin was velvet against my tongue, and my eyes fluttered closed as I pulled away. My body was humming for him.
“Do that again.” It was more of a plea than a command.
I pressed a kiss to the head and smirked at the pulse in his jaw. “Do what?”
A low sound rumbled in his chest, his grip pinching at my scalp. “Put your mouth on me.”
The desperate desire in his eyes begged, and I fell into the sound of his growl as I took him into my mouth.
His control slipped as he groaned. “Fuck, Stevie…” Mark’s hips gradually began to move, driving him deeper into my mouth. I felt greedy as I took it all. “Yeah… just like that.”
Everything I’d usually worry about displaced into the white noise of the bedroom. There was nothing but the feel of carpet against my knees, Mark’s pleasure, and his guttural groans. I stared at him from under my lashes; watched as his eyes closed, and how his bottom lip raked through his teeth as I teased, licked, and sucked. My climax had cooled, but this view, his head tipping backward, his body above me, it fueled the throbbing between my legs and I was wet for him again. I was smoldering, slow and hot, and when he slid his other hand into my hair, his hips jerked. Something more primal than a growl erupted past his lips and his chin dipped. His eyes locked on mine and the bittersweet taste of him flooded my mouth.
Mark held my chin with his left hand as I swallowed and pulled away. He swept his thumb across my lips and then my cheek. His eyes were glazed with spent lust, his touch—tender. The tips of his fingers ran the length of my neck to the top of my spine. The bones of my body felt light, like a sponge, soaking up his affection.
“I want to kiss you,” he breathed his wish and I granted it.
His hands grasped the bare cheeks of my ass as I stood, hauling me against him. He kissed me with impatient lips that slowed to an open mouth sizzle. His tongue taking its time teasing mine. I moaned into his mouth when his right hand found its way between my legs and he hummed his approval when he found me ready.
Three orgasms later, and two for him, we were both naked, a mess of limbs on the top of his comforter and we hadn’t even had sex yet. Just hands and mouths and fingers. God, he had glorious fingers. My legs were noodles, my lungs on fire as I gasped his name. Mark gently bit one nipple and then the other before dragging his hand from between my thighs.
“I love your tits,” he mumbled against my skin as he licked circles around the dusky pink peaks.
I ran my hands into his hair. My fingers combed through the slight curls as I laughed. The man was practically suffocating himself between my breasts. “I think you better come up for air.”
He groaned and rested his cheek against my belly. A little over an hour ago, I would’ve flinched. Having him that close to my biggest insecurity would’ve freaked me out, but the way he treated me, leaving no curve uncharted, my hang-ups no longer felt valid.
“Can’t a man just be content?” His hands were firmly in place on my hips, the rough pads of his thumbs running circuits along my skin.
“You played a hard game, won a hat thing, you should at least eat dinner at some point tonight.”
He chuckled and rolled his body. Lying next to me, he propped onto his elbow. “A hat thing?” He raised his brow. “It’s awesome that you know nothing about the game.”
I didn’t think it was “awesome” I had no knowledge about something he was so passionate about. “I wish I knew more. Wouldn’t you like me to know what it means when you do something noteworthy?”
“I like that I get to teach you.” His broad smile had my own lips spreading across my face.
My heart did a little shimmy. “Teach me something.”
He rested his palm on my tummy. “What do you want to know?”
I turned my head to face him, his cinnamon eyes twinkled, and a light laugh parted my lips. “The basics.”
“Okay.” His fingers traced absentminded S shapes along the curve of my stomach. “Each team has six players on the ice. One goalie, three forward players, and two defensive players.”
“Forward… That’s you?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, babe, that’s me.”
I playfully smacked his cheek. “Don’t make fun of me.”
He leaned down, his lips less than a millimeter from mine. “I’m sorry.” His smile was repentant, kissing me once and then again before he barreled over onto his other side. He opened his bedside table and rummaged around in the drawer.
“What are you doing?” I asked, but too lazy, drunk on three orgasms, to care enough to investigate or move for that matter.
He answered me by moving back to his previous position, holding up a blue Sharpie with a wicked grin on his lips. He pulled the cap off with his teeth and I might’ve giggled when he spit the cap to the side.
“Mark?” I drew out his name. The long syllable brimmed with caution.
He snuggled in a little closer, his right hand hovering over my stomach. “You wanted to learn, right?”
I closed my eyes, scrunched my nose as the cold tip of the marker touched down below my breasts. His quiet laughter opened my eyes and I lifted onto my elbows.
“Stay still,” he teased, and I made a show of holding my breath.
He drew what looked like a sloppy hockey rink across my stomach. Including two goalie nets, one right below and between my breasts, and the other above my pubic bone. He was busy drawing circles, his concentration something to take seriously, and I had to stifle a laugh when his tongue darted and rested on the bow of his lower lip.
“Goalie,” he said and drew an X in his makeshift net. He drew another line below it. “This is called the crease and it’s where he hangs out, okay?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Mark’s mouth lifted at the corners, his eyes flashing to mine as he drew an excruciatingly slow line depicting the crease of the other goal. The cool sensation, the gentle pressure of his touch so close to where I wanted him most, the heat crept along the surface of my skin all the way to my cheeks.
He continued his lesson, scrawling groups of letters onto my flesh. LW, RW C, D, D in mirrored patterns on either side of the dark line he’d drawn horizontally across the middle of my tummy. Once he was finished, he placed a kiss on my belly button and said, “Center ice.”
He shot me a sweet smile and the excitement in his eyes made it difficult to breathe. I liked his relaxed countenance, and how it bled into everything we’d done tonight. We were natural, and it made the last thirteen years of my life settle like a brick inside my chest. I’d wasted so much time, so much of myself. I blinked a few times, willing the sudden rush of emotion away.
I leaned onto one elbow as I pointed to the letter C. “You play center.”
He nodded. Pleased, he said, “Yes…” He pointed to the other letters explaining, “Left wing, right wing, and the center, we’re all forwards, and these guys…” He circled the letter D and I squirmed. His chuckle made me laugh. “You’re ticklish… I’ll have to remember that.” A shuddered breath exhaled from my lungs at the promise. “Right wings are in charge of the right side of the rink and –”
“The Left wing is in charge of the left… simple enough.”
“Not always, sometimes I play a lot of defense, too, and sometimes the D-men play offensively and score goals.”
My brows pulled together. “This hurts my brain.”
Mark’s head fell forward as he barked out a laugh. “Says the accountant...”
“Math is easy. Math I get. Penalties, power plays, hat-thingies… I’m going to need a tutor.”
“Good thing your boyfriend’s a hockey player.”
Boyfriend. Is that what this was already? I was too green and maybe my confusion was too readily available in my expression because Mark’s smile faltered.
“You know what I mean.” He recovered his smile, and I chewed the corner of my lip as he stared at my stomach. “The basics, Stevie, get the puck in the net, light the lamp, and do it more than the other guys.” He ran a line from the letter C all the way to the goal crease below my breast.
I lay back, sinking into the pillow, and averted my eyes to the ceiling. Here I was, lying naked in a bed with a man I’d been pretty damn intimate with, and all I could think was how stupid I was for liking that word. Boyfriend. Wasn’t I supposed to be taking it slow? Figuring out what I wanted, who I was?
“I freaked you out, didn’t I?”
I turned my head meeting his gaze.
“We’re getting to know each other.” I hated the sound of my own voice. Everything that I’d allowed to happen tonight was proof I’d moved beyond the simple boundaries of dating.
The hard line of Mark’s jaw flexed as he sat up. “If I wanted to get laid, I could. That’s not what I want from you.” I swallowed and he grinned. “Well, that’s not all I want from you.”
Despite myself, I smiled back. “What do you want from me?”
He exhaled and rubbed his fingers along the scruff on his chin. His easy smile shifting. “If you’re with me, then you’re with me. I’m gone too much, I’ll probably mess shit up from time to time, but I won’t fuck around, Stevie. I like you, and I don’t want to waste the downtime I have on a woman who’d rather be with someone else. I’ve already played that game.”
I sat up, hyperaware of my own nakedness. Inside and out. “I’m trying to figure my way into this new life. Hell, Mark, I have boxes I haven’t even unpacked yet.”
The heat of his fingertips coaxed my chin, turning my gaze to his. He considered me, his lips breaking into a genuine smile. “I’m not trying to rush you into anything. This can be serious or it can be casual, either way, when I’m with you, it’s only you. And I hope you’d give me the same respect.”
A nervous smile shivered on my lips as I rested my forehead in the perfect crook of his neck. “I don’t know the first thing about what it’s like to date someone like you, or anyone in this decade really, but I know I like you, and I don’t want to waste my downtime with some random either.” I leaned back and he framed my face with his hands. “When you said boyfriend, you’re right… it freaked me out. But it wasn’t because I want to sleep around and sow my wild oats…” Humor glittered inside his irises. “I freaked out because I want you as a boyfriend, probably more than I should. I’m starting over, Mark, I should want to be on my own, fly free, and all that jazz.”
“And all that jazz?” He raised his right brow.
I shoved his chest. “Yeah. And. All. That. Jazz.”
“Start over. Fly free, do whatever you want, Stevie. You don’t have to worry about that shit with me. I’ll never censor you.”
What he’d said to me the night I’d first met him shimmered at the edges of my memory.
“If you were married to me, you could do whatever you wanted.”
I was making things more complicated than they needed to be. We were having fun. I had a hockey rink drawn on my stomach with a Sharpie for crying out loud. It could be serious or it could be casual. I didn’t want to date around, and I really hadn’t had any intentions to date at all. I’d moved back to Tampa with the sole purpose of finding myself again. Mark was a happy accident. And after my divorce from Ben, I owed it to myself to try. My relationship with men didn’t have to define me.
“So… my boyfriend’s a hockey player.”
His full lips pulled into those sexy dimples I was starting to worship. “Hot hockey player.”
He kissed the spot below my ear and my stomach growled. “A hot hockey player who promised me dinner.”
He rolled off the bed with agility that somehow, even after I’d watched him play tonight, still astounded me. He bent down, grabbing my shirt and underwear, throwing them onto the bed as I admired the chiseled planes of his chest. The ink on his forearms rippled as he pulled on his boxer-briefs.
“I think I’m enlisting one more rule tonight beyond exclusivity.”
“Oh?” I asked as I slipped back into my shirt and panties. I’d worry about finding my bra later. “What’s that?”
“No pants at the dinner table.”