Page 168 of Cross Check

“I’m not following.”

“I’m a virgin,” he says, and I blink.

“A virgin,” I repeat. “But you’re…” I gesture to his sculpted shoulders and messy hair. The hook of a grin, even now. “There’s a lot of good stuff going on here.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Can you be more specific? On the definition of your virginity?”

“If you want the clinical definition, I’ve never, um, fucked someone. But I’ve done everything else.” His eyes spark again. “And I’ve had no complaints in those areas.”

“Has the opportunity of sex never presented itself?”

“It has. But in college I was balancing a difficult major with hockey, and soon the NHL called. Then I met this beautiful woman one night in Denver and…” He trails off. Meets my gaze. “I wasn’t very attracted to anyone else. I didn’t want to touch anyone else. Didn’t look at anyone else. None of them interested me.”

“You—” I wet my lips. “That was years ago.”

“Some stupid, feeble part of me always hoped I’d find a way to have you like this. And now that I do?” He crawls up my body, hands on either side of my head. He lowers his mouth, inches away from mine. “I want you in ways I’ve only dreamed about.”

He’s been waiting for you since he first met you, and you want him just as much as he wants you.

I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything else, and for someone who’s careful and responsible and so far from reckless, tonight I want to indulge.

And I want it to be with him.

“Show me,” I whisper, and I swear the noise he lets out is a deep groan, the sound of a man who’s been holding back for years. “I want you to touch me.”

“Are you sure?” He reaches up, brushing the hair out of my face then moving his fingers down to my throat. His touch lingers there, and when I nod, he rests his head in the crook of my neck. “Fuck, Lia.”

I run my nails down his arms, scratching his skin and marking him as mine. I’m going to be the first one to have him like this, and possessiveness rolls through me.

“Do you need me to tell you what to do?” My hand drops lower, resting on the curve of his ass. All muscle, nothing but brute force from years of training and sculpting his body. I give him a soft push forward to bring our bodies closer. “I remember you taking direction very well.”

“Yes. No.” His voice is barely more than a rasp. He kisses me again, just as rough as the last time when he bites my bottom lip and pulls on it with his teeth. It draws a startled gasp out of me, a burst of desire flaring to life. “Take off your clothes.”

I scoot back until I’m against the pillows. I toy with the drawstring on my sweatpants, power surging through me when he touches the front of his athletic shorts and gives himself a rough stroke.

“Say please,” I tell him, lowering the pants to show off the waistband of my underwear.

“Please. Fuck. Please, Lia. Can I—let me see you. Let me touch you.”

“That was very good.” I tug my sweatpants all the way down my thighs and kick them off my feet. “Come and have me, Grant.”

FIFTY-THREE

GRANT

Amelia Green is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

When she smiles at me, I have to actively put my tongue back in my mouth. When she tugs her shirt over her head, I forget my name and pinch the inside of my wrist to make sure I’m not stuck in a dream.

Her bra and underwear aren’t anything fancy. Black, cotton. No lace or frills or decorative adornments, but it doesn’t matter. She could wear a sack and I’d still struggle to breathe.

“Are you okay?” she asks, and I want to laugh.

There’s not a big enough word to describe how I’m feeling.

I’ve transcended time and space. I’m nearly catatonic when she reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra. I need a goddamn defibrillator when she slides the straps down her arms and tosses it to the side.