Offside (22 page)

And when he stopped she nearly choked.

Sweat beaded along his forehead, his
beautiful eyes looked stormy, passionate and sexy-as-hell.

“I can’t hold back if we keep going, Billie,”
he said gruffly.

She knew he was giving her an out and she
loved him for that. How many men in this situation would even think
of holding back?

She swallowed, not trusting herself to speak,
and lowered her own hand until she grabbed his and guided him
toward the part of her that ached for his touch.

When he slid his fingers into the slick folds
between her legs, she whimpered and he froze once more.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, pulling his head
down because she had to kiss him again. “Don’t ever stop.”

Their tongues danced together as his fingers
stretched and teased, and then his fingers found that sweet spot,
the one that drove her crazy. Moments later she came, screaming
into his mouth as he kissed her savagely, and moved his heavy body
overtop of hers.

His erection was heavy and thick against her
belly as he propped most of his weight up on his elbows, so that he
could look down at her.

Billie’s heart swelled to the point that
tears pricked the corner of her eyes. She loved this man. She loved
him with every fiber of her being. She couldn’t remember a time
when she didn’t love him in some way and as she’d gotten older, her
feelings had changed—her love had changed.

But it had never gone away.

A lump formed in her throat. It would never
go away. She knew this now.

If only she could tell him.

“Hey,” he reached down and kissed her nose.
He was still breathing heavy, still wired and tight.

Tendons strained along his shoulders and
biceps as he hovered over top of her. His thick hair was mussed,
his eyes, dark and fathomless. He was the sexiest thing she’d ever
seen and they were far from done.

Billie reached up and sank her hands into his
thick hair. She pushed him backward, her mouth on his, until he
rolled to the side and she was out from underneath him. She broke
their kiss, panting from the effort, and her breasts swelled, her
nipples pebbled at the scorching look in his eyes when she sat back
on her knees.

As his gaze moved past her breasts and headed
south, she leaned back on her haunches, spreading her legs slightly
so he could see exactly how wet she was.

“Christ,” he muttered hoarsely, eyes glued to
the apex between her thighs.

Her eyes settled on the tattoo along his
shoulder and she leaned forward, her lips gliding over his hard,
straining flesh, teasing, tasting. It was an intricate, colorful
design boasting a music note and vinery, but it was the other, the
one on his arm that caught her attention.

“What is this?” she asked roughly, barely
able to get the words out as she fingered the strange markings
along his bicep.

“Greek,” he answered.

“What does it say?” she asked, grinning
wickedly when her other hand closed around the straining length of
his cock.

Logan made a strangled noise and nipped her
neck. “It says that you’re one hell of a cock tease and unless we
finish this right now…Jesus Christ.”

He swore as she ran her fingers along the
soft underside of his head, and suckled his chest at the same
time.

“Dammit, Billie, all hell is going to break
loose.”

Billie rose above him and pushed him until he
was flat on his back. His cock rose straight into the air and she
licked her lips in anticipation.

“Well then,” she said breathily. “We can’t
have that.”

“No,” he agreed.

“Condom?”

He nodded in the general area beside the bed
and she leaned across him—inhaling sharply as her sensitive nipples
scraped along the stubble on his chin. She grabbed his jeans from
the table beside the bed and slid her hands into the front pocket,
smiling when her fingers settled on a small foil packet.

She tore into it, carefully lifted one leg so
that she straddled him, and slowly rolled the condom down his
cock.

“Holy hell, Billie,” Logan’s eyes never left
her hands and when she rose slightly and sank down onto him, he
groaned loudly.

Immediately his large hands cupped her butt
and she nearly cried out at the sensation of having him inside
her.

The pressure inside her was fierce and her
hips began to move, though he controlled the rhythm, while holding
her steady in his hands. And what a rhythm it was. Highly
erotic-slow, sure, strokes filling her completely, and each one
brought her closer the edge.

Sweat beaded along his top lip and she bent
forward, her tongue flickering out as she kissed the moisture away,
gasping when his thrusts intensified.

“You feel so good inside me,” she breathed
against his neck, unashamed to say what was she was feeling. How
could she? She had dreamed about this—about having sex with Logan
for years.

That first time had been incredible. But it
had been a first time.

This? This was insane and so much headier,
harder, sexier than she’d ever imagined.

His right hand cupped her head and he thrust
his tongue inside her mouth, while his other palmed her ass and
kept her steady as she rode him, meeting his thrusts with equal
force.

“I can’t hold off, babe,” he said hoarsely,
his eyes drunk with passion.

Billie groaned as the pressure inside her
liquefied into a hot flash that ebbed and flowed as his thrusts
became faster, harder.

And when his fingers dug into her, when he
thrust that last time and came, she was right there with him.

Billie’s orgasm was unlike any she’d
experienced before. It was so incredible that as she collapsed on
Logan, her sweat slicked body shuddering, her first thought was
that she’d never had one before.

Was it possible?

This connection she felt to Logan was soul
shattering—it went beyond the physical and landed pretty much right
smack in the middle of a bond that she didn’t understand.

Or maybe she just didn’t want to think about
sharing something so incredible with a person, and knowing that it
might not ever happen again. Or worse. What if Logan only felt half
as much as she did, the physical half and not the other?

She struggled to breathe. To think
coherently. To stop over analyzing.

Logan was still inside her and she didn’t
want to give up any of that just yet.

“That was incredible,” Logan said lazily, his
fingers deep in her hair, massaging her scalp. He kissed the side
of her neck and she closed her eyes, unable to vocalize her
feelings.

She nodded instead, and rested her cheek on
his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

Then something caught her eye and she
froze.

“Uh, your cat…”

He shifted slightly and she moved so that she
could see his eyes. “Weird?”

“He’s weird?” she repeated.

“No,” Logan grinned, “that’s his name.”

She arched her eyebrow and nodded toward the
end of the bed, and Logan followed her gaze.

Weird sat, not far from their tangle of feet,
with his one eye trained on them, unflinching, though his whiskers
twitched a bit as if he found them somewhat amusing.

“Oh,” Billie giggled. “Weird appears to be a
bit of a pervert.”

“Agreed.”

And then Logan kissed her again, making all
rational thought fly away, and the two of them proceeded to give
Weird an entirely new X-rated show to watch.

Logan tossed their dirty dishes into the
dishwasher and glanced at the clock. It was 8:30 and unless he got
his ass in gear and hit the shower, he’d be late for work.

“Hey, you forgot one.”

He turned and whistled, a low appreciative
sound, as Billie slid around him and bent over to place one last
dish into the machine. She wore nothing but his white button down
shirt from the night before.

Logan angled his head and his gut tightened
at the flash of ass cheek that peeked from beneath the hem.

He was instantly hard. Again.

He glanced at the clock one more time, his
hands already reaching for her. Fuck it, he was the boss. He could
be late.

He pulled her back to him, her bottom flush
against the straining bulge in his pants and his mouth already
seeking that sweet spot he’d discovered. The one just behind her
right ear. The one that if he licked, just so—

Billie squealed and wriggled against
him—wrong thing to do—and he turned her in his arms, claiming the
mouth that he honestly didn’t think he could ever get sick of
kissing.

Her lips were incredibly soft, and the way
she bit down on the lower one when she was thinking about
something, nearly drove him insane. Kind of like she was doing
right now.

The little minx knew it too, and he swooped
in for the kill, his tongue dancing with hers as his hands slowly
made their way up her shirt, loving the way her hip curved, and the
small of her back indented. His right hand traveled upward,
dragging the shirt with him, while he used his other to press her
into him so that the hot crevice between her legs rubbed along his
cock.

It was incredibly erotic, holding a
half-naked woman in his arms.

His jeans were stretched about as tight as
they could go and he groaned as her hands caressed his bare chest,
on their way down to his fly.

Suddenly the kitchen door slammed open and he
tore his mouth away from Billie, turning instinctively to keep his
body between hers and—

Son-of-a-bitch. Shane Gallagher.

His buddy was halfway to the fridge before he
stopped and whipped his head around. Logan stood there in jeans
that were undone, an obvious bulge straining against the front, and
two pink-tipped feet visible between his legs.

For a moment there was silence until a wicked
grin swept across Shane’s face. “It’s about time,” he said. And
then with an amused “Mornin’ Billie,” he proceeded toward Logan’s
fridge where he helped himself to a carton of milk before rummaging
through the cupboard beside the stove for a box of Honeycombs.

Shane nodded at Logan and turned toward the
kitchen door, but paused. “I’ll let the guys know you’re running
late.”

Logan waited until Shane disappeared and then
he turned around to look into the sexiest eyes ever. For a moment
he thought he saw panic in their depths, and his hand caressed her
cheek. If he was honest, a little piece of him melted as she leaned
into his touch.

“Gallagher won’t say anything, if that’s what
you’re worried about.”

Billie nodded. “I know.” She exhaled. “It’s
not him I’m worried about.”

Her eyes slid to the floor and he didn’t like
the way the real world had totally fucked with his morning.

“Hey, what’s this?” Panic rifled through
Logan. He’d just had the best sex of his life, with a woman who
more than just entertained him in the bedroom. That feeling was
new—the need to share, to stay, and to not disappear into the dark.
He couldn’t recall ever sharing a breakfast like this with any of
the women he’d been with—at least none that felt this intimate.

And definitely not in his own place.

“I don’t want this to end, but…” her voice
was tremulous and he knew she was as affected as he.

Logan leaned toward her and kissed the corner
of her mouth. “Babe, I’m just getting started.” His mouth slid
across her bottom lip and then traveled to her jaw until he
eventually made his way down to her ear, his intention of finding
that honey-spot again.

“Logan,” she pushed against him. “The team
can’t know about us…no one can know. It will just look…there are
already rumors going around that I’m sleeping with half the
freaking league.”

Her eyes were huge, her lips bruised from his
own, and something in her expression tugged at him. A wave of
protectiveness rushed over him and he pulled her into his embrace,
for the longest time just holding her close. For the moment he was
content to simply feel her, to listen to her breathe, to hear her
heart beat beneath his own.

“I have no problem with people knowing that
we’re together, but I understand if you don’t want the guys on the
team to know, or anyone else in the league for that matter. So if
you want to keep this on the down low for now, we’ll keep it on the
down low, but there is no way in hell I’m going to stop seeing
you.”

“Really?” She turned her face up and cupped
his jaw between her hands. “You don’t mind? We can hang out
and...’—that adorable smile tugged at her mouth again—‘hang out
some more…”

He buried his nose in a thick tousle of hair
that hung over her shoulder and growled. “I want to do a hell of a
lot more than hang out.”

His hands slipped to her butt and in one
motion, he lifted her onto the countertop and spread her legs,
ripping the buttons of his shirt—the one she still wore—open with
one deft pull.

For several long moments he stared at her
perfect breasts, at the stitches beneath her right arm. The tapered
waist. The hot tattoo on her hip. The trim, moist opening between
her legs.

“Oh lady, hanging out doesn’t come close to
what we’re going to do.”

He reached into his front pocket and swore.
Shit, his condoms were way the hell upstairs.

“I’m…” her finger traced the tattoo on his
shoulder. “I’m on the pill. I mean,” she bit her lip and he moved
closer to her, his eyes focused on that mouth. “I’ve been on the
pill forever. It was pretty much understood while I was playing
hockey and…” she hunched her shoulders adoringly. “Not that I was
with a lot of guys, I mean I wasn’t and I’m …I’ve never had you
know, a STD or anything,” she whispered, her cheeks pink.

She looked so damn sincere that his heart
turned over. He slipped his shirt off her shoulders and released
himself from his jeans. This was important. She needed to
understand what he was saying. “I haven’t had sex without a condom
since I was fifteen and stupid, and even then it was only once. My
dad gave me the ‘don’t get anyone pregnant, don’t get a disease or
your pecker will fall off’ speech and it stuck.”