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“See,” he says smugly, though there’s a glint in his eyes that causes him to hold me just a little closer. His possessiveness stirs my blood.
“You’re crazy.” I laugh.
He grasps my chin. “And you’re beautiful.” He’s dead serious.
My laughter slowly dies.
I hold him closer when I feel lightheaded, and his strong arms tighten around my waist.
My voice is low with my next confession. “You said you loved the way I looked at you … when, really, it’s the way you look at me.”
It gives me butterflies. And fireworks. And I find myself wanting them to last forever.
He leans down to press his lips to mine like he can’t stop himself. The kiss is much too brief. The first time he kissed me on that street corner left an impression. It’s burned on my brain, the image running on a continuous circuit in my head despite the alcohol I consumed that night.
“You ready to get out of here?” he murmurs gruffly.
I nod. He kisses me again. It’s starting to feel strangely natural.
“Let’s go.”
Sam laces our fingers together, and we walk to the front of the venue. He’s stopped more than once to exchange pleasantries and goodbyes with different people. Everyone knows him, and those that don’t want to. But he never drops my hand. The few executives we pass just smile and nod, but no one says a disparaging word. We finally make it outside to an Escalade that’s idling by the curb.
Sam opens the door, and I climb in. He slides in behind me. The driver strikes up a conversation about the hockey season, games that have been played and those still to come. Sam is gracious to the man, just like he’s been to everyone who attended the charity event tonight. Another thing I never knew about him before. He never seems to treat fans like an imposition, making them feel seen, even if only for a moment. And I’m suddenly sure it isn’t only his talent on the ice that has hundreds of Hawks faithfully wearing his jersey night after night.
The nerves in my stomach start to swirl the closer we get to home. Because while Sam is talking sports with the man navigating our SUV, I’m picturing what I want to happen when we walk through the apartment door. And I’m plotting how to make it happen. I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want Sam right now, and somehow, that desire overshadows any anxiety or doubts I might have.
I glance at Sam’s profile and watch as the city lights dance across his features. His jacket is unbuttoned and draped over broad shoulders. His pants are pulled tight over thick thighs. He’s relaxed with his legs splayed, and it’s making me tense. Because I’m picturing all those sinewy muscles hidden beneath the material and how the weight of his body will feel when he’s on top of me, pressing me into the mattress. Testosterone oozes effortlessly from his pores, seeping beneath my skin in the process.
He looks over and catches me staring, his words faltering for a moment when he registers the heat in my eyes. I don’t break eye contact. He recovers quickly, finishing his sentence like nothing out of the ordinary is happening back here.
Sam discreetly reaches for me as the driver starts recanting the last time the Hawks played the Bruins. His callous fingers land just above my knee. I exhale roughly and close my eyes for a moment. I can feel his touch all the way to the center of my core even though it’s light as a feather. The material of my dress shifts along with my body, creeping even higher than intended on my thigh, which is convenient as he drags the tips of his fingers along the sensitive skin of my leg. My heart races. He traces the slit slowly all the way to the end. It’s pleasure and torture, all at once.
The entire time, Sam’s eyes remain forward. He continues his conversation as if he’s not igniting a fire inside of me. I’m practically panting when his large hand collapses around my leg beneath my dress, squeezing it as he discusses the last goal he scored with the stranger in the front seat.
My hand lands on top of his, but I’m not sure if it’s to stop him from going higher or to encourage it. He laces our fingers together, tilting his head until our eyes meet. His pupils are dilated through the heat in his irises, and there’s a smirk on his lips, telling me he knows exactly what he’s doing to me right now. His long index finger reaches out until he’s ghosting across my center. I’m covered only by my panties. I’m embarrassingly wet and becoming wetter by the second. My eyelids hood, my head drops back, and my mouth falls open with each swipe.
His teasing touch halts when the car lurches to a stop. I bite my lip to staunch my moan. He removes his hand from beneath my dress, taking mine with it as he thanks the driver. He helps me out of the vehicle, and we walk silently into the building. Sam greets the doorman on our way to the elevator. I can see our blurry reflection in the golden mirrored doors. He towers above me as we stand silently side by side, though my heels put me higher than I’d normally be. He loosens his bow tie. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The doors open, and we step inside. The space immediately fills with sexual tension.
As soon as we’re completely closed inside the elevator, Sam tugs me closer.
“Was that for me?” he asks gruffly, his breath warm across my cheek and his question somewhat desperate. His entire body is hot. He’s hard where our hips are pressed together.
“What?” I ask.
He brushes my core over my dress with the back of his hand, and I fight to keep my eyelids from drifting shut again. I’m wet for him. That’s what he wants to hear.
“Yes.”
His lips crash into mine hungrily. He groans as I struggle to get as close as I possibly can, practically climbing his torso. His palms slide to my butt, squeezing and molding the pliable tissue aggressively over my dress. He pulls my pelvis further into him, lifting me a little in the process, and shamelessly rubs me along his length while I’m anchored against the wall. I struggle to open my legs even more, the tight dress limiting my movements despite the slit.
We reluctantly pull apart when the elevator opens on our floor, and we hurry down the hallway and through the front door together, our minds as fused as our bodies were a moment ago. My back hits the wall in the entranceway before the door has fully shut beside us, and his mouth is on mine again, sucking, licking, and biting me into a frenzy. We don’t bother to turn on the lights.
Sam’s so big that it’s like I disappear inside of his hold. I love how his movements are sure and confident. There is no fumbling or awkwardness. Just desire. His passion is consuming and fuels my own.
He pulls back to catch his breath, both of our chests heaving. He drops to my neck, feasting there instead. Each touch and kiss sparks something deep inside my lower belly, making me want more.
“I want you so bad,” he groans.
