Page 65 of Put a Rink on It

Visions of her from college parade across my mind, and I close my eyes and breathe deeply. They open slowly as they rake up and down.

She was gorgeous then, but her curves, the larger breasts, the hips to hold on to, give her assets she didn’t have before.

“You’re stunning.”

“You’re still dressed.”

“Give a guy a minute to take in the beauty in front of him.”

“Give a girl the same opportunity.” Her hands reach out, tugging on the hem of my sweatshirt. I maneuver out of reach, removing both layers. Her eyes go wide. “God, Nero. You’re cut.” She scoots closer on her knees, her fingers trailing the lines of my abdomen. “It’s like you work out or something.”

I chuckle. “Or something.”

Her gaze travels farther up, and when it connects to my newest tattoos, they steal her breath. Her eyes blink rapidly, her brain trying to make sense of what she’s seeing. Or I’m guessing it’s what she’s doing. Maybe she hasn’t noticed the⁠—

She hisses. “Why is there a ship tattoo on your pec?”

“It’s a storm,” I defend. “For my team.” I take her finger and trace along the outline of the rain and high waves, nothing like the Minnesota logo.

“With a freaking ship in it,” she points out, not letting the topic drop, though she pulls her finger from my grasp.

When the artist sketched it out, it was missing something, and the only thing my mind conjured was a ship.

Hmm. Never thought about why until now.

“You’ve never questioned the sticks, puck, and frozen lake ones,” I toss out to get her off this and back to the task at hand. Namely, my hard cock.

“We’re coming back to this.” She outlines the ship again, her head shaking, words tumbling from her mouth in a mutter. Thankfully, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of my pants and pushes them down enough for my cock to spring free. Now, she gapes for a different reason. “It’s bigger than I remember.”

“Is it?”

She licks her lips, the action doing nothing to lessen my growing arousal. “Yep.”

I push the sheets and comforter out of her way and encourage her to lie down. She rests her back against the pillows, leaving her legs spread, her bare pussy on full display. My eyes track down in admiration.

“If you’re gonna kiss my lips, these first.” My vision rises in time to see her point to her mouth. “Long as you’re still good with kissing in this kind of situationship.”

Part of me comprehends I shouldn’t kiss her—it’s only going to complicate our relationship more—but I can’t deny her wish.

I shove my pants down and off, leaving me completely naked. Supporting myself on arms bracketed on each side of her, I incline my head, crushing my lips to hers. I don’t account for the explosion, the electric current coursing through me with one touch. This isn’t the first time we’ve kissed lately, but it’s the first time with the agreement of besties with benefits in place.

I can’t stop kissing her.

Our mouths tango, mine leading hers in a dance that’s familiar. It’s not surprising so much as the way my body reacts to it. How it heats, my cock hardening with each brush of my lips across hers.

How would she react if I didn’t warn her but pushed inside her?

Would she be mad?

Would she put an end to this?

Would she persuade me to keep going?

She mentioned something about kissing her other lips. Does she want that first?

Why am I so in my head about this? It’s like my brain won’t shut off, wanting to make sure she’s satisfied.

While I’m debating what to do, Marina snakes her hands between us, one hand cups my cock while the fingers of the other one connect with her clit. At least that’s my best guess when she moans.