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She smiled at his compliment, until his look of awe flattened out, a scowl taking its place. Moving closer, he lifted her arm, turning it carefully, his fingertips stroking the skin.
“You have bruises,” he said, that dark and dangerous tone she’d heard this morning returning as he took in the result of Doug’s rough handling. Releasing one arm, he scowled at the bruises on the other as well.
“Kiss them better,” she whispered.
Her words had the effect she’d hoped for as the two of them laughed breathlessly, recalling the night Blake made a similar request after his fight on the ice.
He did exactly as she asked, his lips so soft on the sore spots, he made her a believer, convincing her kisses really could heal.
She cupped his cheek. It was stubbled, a true five-o’clock shadow, his typical look. The only exception was the full beard he sported during playoffs, when no one on the team shaved, holding to that belief—superstition—that hockey should be their singular focus and personal hygiene is nothing more than a distraction.
“You know,” she said softly, “this hero thing of yours is sort of starting to become a habit.”
“I like taking care of you,” he confessed, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt he meant it. Blake didn’t view her as helpless. If he had, she never would have let him do as much for her as she did.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, loving the way the mere touch of his lips against hers took away every bad thought and feeling she’d been having lately.
Blake didn’t grant her request. Instead, he pulled down the duvet and gestured toward the bed. “Crawl in first.”
She did as he said, her haste causing him to chuckle.
“You’re so perfect, Erik.”
She sat in the middle of her bed, watching as Blake toed off his shoes, then unfastened his jeans.
Erika forgot to breathe as he lowered the denim and his boxers together. “Oh!”
“Told you that dildo was small,” he joked.
She hadn’t believed that until now, but hell would freeze over before she admitted that to her cocky bestie.
Blake grinned, then he climbed into the bed. Tugging on her ankle, he used his strength—good God, the man was built like an ox—to pull her down until she was flat on her back. Then he crawled over her, caging her beneath him, giving her that kiss she’d requested.
Unable to resist, Erika decided to treat herself to a little bit of exploring, her hands touching his bare chest and midriff before roaming around to stroke his back and the top of his firm ass.
There wasn’t a soft part on the guy. Literally, no part of him didn’t feel like pure steel.
Blake’s hands cupped the sides of her head so he could use his grip to deepen their kiss. She’d never been kissed so hard or so long. The edges of her vision turned gray from the lack of air, and she started to feel light-headed.
She would have twisted away, sucking in some deep breaths, but Blake didn’t appear to be in a hurry to move them on to the next part.
Releasing her, he placed a few more soft kisses on her cheeks, the tip of her nose, even her chin. “What are you thinking about?”
She frowned. Thinking? “Uh…”
Blake gave her a cat-who-ate-the-canary grin. “So, nothing. That’s my girl. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t making some sort of list in your head.”
Erika believed in giving credit where credit was due. “No lists. Just thinking about you. And those kisses. Did you take a class or something? Major in kissing, because I’ve never… No one has ever…”
She expected Blake to laugh at her joke, but his gaze sharpened, his expression turning serious. “I’ve never kissed anyone like this, Erik. Fuck, I don’t even usually like kissing, but with you…I can’t stop myself. It’s like you and your lips are a drug, and I’m already hooked.”
Erika blinked a couple times, trying to process his confession. “I’m your drug?”
How awesome was that?
“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed, giving her another kiss. This one was softer than the last five hundred, but no less powerful, no less potent.
As blown away as Erika was by his kisses, they were wreaking havoc on her libido, driving her arousal to dangerous heights.
