Scoring Lacey (8 page)

With a groan, he dropped his head to her thigh because he needed physical contact and he was exhausted. Her hand smoothed along his hair. The touch was soothing and reassuring. “I told myself earlier that that was it. No more fucking around with Lacey Magerin. And yet here I am.” He was confused. She confused the hell out of him. Every sign he saw told him to stay away from her and yet here he was.

She had Granville permanently tattooed on her soul and the thought of him coming back here where he was always Jerry Donnelly’s kid made his skin tight. People who remembered his dad, didn’t look at Shayne and say “That’s Shayne Donnelly, he’s in the NHL now.” No, they said, “That’s Jerry Donnelly’s kid.”

She had ventured out into the big, bad world but had returned. Permanently.

He came back sporadically. In the ten years since he had left, he could count his flights into Regina on one hand. His one and only goal had been to get the fuck out of Granville. If it hadn’t been hockey, he would’ve hit the highway with his thumb pointing in any direction.

He was, as Adam Payne said, a dirt farm boy. The only thing his father had grown on that small plot of land had been dirt, hangovers and bruises. Nothing thrived in that shack, not even Shayne. There were times even now when he woke up half expecting to see old hand-me-downs, a black eye and dirt on his skin.

And here he was, fooling around with Coach’s daughter.

What a piece of shit he was.

The Magerins had been good to him. He couldn’t keep track of the amount of meals Mrs. Magerin had fed him or the times he’d slept over or the hours spent on the ice with Coach and Todd. He was Jerry Donnelly’s kid, she was Roger Magerin’s daughter. He was dirt, she was gold.

“What are you doing with me?” he asked softly, not really aware of voicing the question out loud.

A surprised laugh escaped her, quiet and low. “I have
no
idea, Shayne. Saturday morning I woke up and went with my mom to the salon for a style and a pedicure. Saturday afternoon I got into a screaming match with Carmen. Saturday evening I was remembering the last function where Kevin was my date and how so much could change in a year. Then I turn and there’s this guy who isn’t the kid I remember making me think things I shouldn’t. Saturday night I’m naked in my bed with him. Trust me when I say I have no idea what I’m doing.”

He ran his hand down her leg. She had the silkiest skin. Head to toe. How cliché but it was true. His fingers traced the graceful curve of her calf, her slender ankle wrapped in leather straps from her sandals then back up to her knee then down again.

“For the record, I don’t want a baby either. Jesus, my oldest is nineteen. At nineteen I was married. That’s old enough to make me a grandma and if she’s carrying around a baby sibling, the world will assume it’s hers. Fuck, the fifteen-year-old is old enough to make me a grandma. A baby wouldn’t be fair to the girls. I’ll be honest, I debated the morning after pill. My life is a mess, Shayne. My kids are pissed that I kicked out their dad. How mad would they be if I said I was pregnant?”

“And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” she repeated in a softer voice. “I have no idea what I’m doing with you, Shayne. Is my ego so trashed that I need to sleep with a twenty-nine year old?”

“I’m irresistible.” He grinned and kissed her knee. “It’s okay. Many women have succumbed to me.”

She snorted then smacked his ear. “Ass.”

He fell serious again as his hand slid back down so his fingers curled around her ankle. “I have to say, though, that coming in you was one of the singular sexiest moments of my life and I want to do it again and again and again.” He stood up, his fingers gliding up her leg, and kissed her. Her legs parted for him and he drew her closer to the edge of the desk.

A soft, breathy sound filled his mouth as their tongues met. “And I want to feel every inch of you squeezing me as you come again and again and again.” His hands followed the slender lines of her thighs, pushing the skirt up. “Sexiest feeling in the world is the sensation of you coming, Lacey. I loved coming in you.” His voice was raspy at the memory of her slick skin kissing his, at the snug, heated fit of her.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“So I can tell myself it was wrong until the sun grows dim but fuck do I want to do it again.” His hand slid along the panties she wore and found the damp swatch. She cried out and he groaned. “Fuck, you’re wet.” He stroked along the fabric that was so slick he could feel the sexy lines of her pussy. “Why are you so wet for me, Lace?”

Wetness soaked through to his finger and she leaned back on her desk as she rocked against him. “Don’t know,” she said. “Never like this.”

“No?” He smiled when she shook her head. “Poor baby.” His fingers slipped under her panties and another ragged cry escaped from her. She was warm and slick, her clit a hard knot of arousal. Against the flimsy t-shirt, her nipples pressed out. His free hand gripped the back of her neck and he covered her mouth with his as he pushed two fingers into her.

She cried out as she came, shuddering gently while satiny cream spilled around his fingers.

All those lectures about staying away from her dissolved. Or had they evaporated when he found himself pulling into the parking lot of the arena, eying the building that had started it all?

Her legs hooked around his thighs as her body rolled as if to take him deeper into her. He wanted in her. His body hummed with the desperation to take what was his.

His?

“Shayne. Oh God, Shayne, there.”

Fuck yes, he thought as his fingers stroked over the spot that made her say his name like that. He watched as her head fell back, dark hair falling to the desk as her hips lifted off the wood, grinding over his fingers as he worshipped that hot, wet spot within her. A foot moved to his hip for leverage. Jesus.

“Come, baby. Come.”

“Shayne. Holy. God. Shayne.”

His thumb brushed her clit and her body twisted to the right, her pussy squeezing his fingers. Get. In. Her. Now.

She cried out, her body freezing as muscles clamped on his fingers. She came in a rush of cream over his fingers, her body trembling from her orgasm.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck.

He grabbed her, dragging and flipping her so she was bent over her desk. Her panties were drenched all along the back as he skimmed them down her legs. Her thighs were slick from her climax and her ass was a tempting globe before him.

Perfection was her ass.

His hand slid along her swollen pussy and a little jerk moved through her even as he drew the moisture still trickling from her along that little patch of skin then to her ass. His finger was slick enough from her orgasm that it easily slid into the tiny hole. Her hand slapped against the desk, curling over the opposite edge.

Was he doing this?

Could he not?

His free hand fumbled with his jeans as he watched, hypnotized by the way his finger vanished into her, the little push back of her body when he eased out. He had purposefully left condoms behind so he didn’t wind up doing exactly this.

A foot slid beside hers and he edged her feet further apart. “Does it hurt?” Her head shook negatively even as her hips rocked back. A finger brushed over her pussy to test her answer. “Condom?” The question rasped his throat as he asked because he knew the answer, damn it.

Another shake of her head and he cleared his throat. “Want me to stop?”

“No. Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

He eased his finger from the cinch of tight muscles and caressed over her ass, down her thigh then around to her abdomen. “Don’t come yet,” he ordered, because if she did they were repeating yesterday’s mishap.

Slowly, oh so slowly because he was aware this was a dangerous place for him to be, he easily slid his cock into the wet, welcome kiss of her body. “Jesus,” he whispered, and gripped the desk to keep himself from fucking hard and fast to empty into her.

“Shayne.”

“Don’t. Come. Please.” His hips flexed forward and he felt sweat slide down his back. Pulling out of her was the hardest thing to do. “Relax,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Why?”

“Just...relax.” He dipped his fingers into the honeyed core of her then traced that tempting little circle.

“Shayne?”

“Want me to stop?”

Her head shook negatively for the third time and he set the head of his cock, glistening with her cream, at that entrance. He felt her still and he held his breath as he eased his way into her. Fuck.

Oh hell, she was tight.

“Don’t move.” Or he was going to erupt all over the most perfect ass in the world. The tight muscle gave and the head of him stretched her. He stared, mesmerized to see him breaching her ass. “God, I wish you could see.”

“See what?”

“Perfection,” he sighed as he resumed the slow glide into her. He heard her ragged breaths, felt the quiver of her muscles and he memorized every reaction she had. That little moan in her throat, the flexing of her fingers, the tiny push back of her hips. “Sweet God, Lacey.”

It was like a switch had been flipped and he slid deep into her until the soft curves of her ass met his body. If he moved, he was going to come. Instantly. She was tighter than a fist, squeezing him until he felt massive inside her. He caressed along her arm, his fingers entwining with hers. “One more inch,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m a heartbeat away from filling your ass with cum so let’s just...breathe.”

A hand caressed his flank and he moaned. “Don’t do that. God, don’t do that.”

“I don’t want to breathe,” she said in a low, husky tone that made the skin on his spine shiver. “I want,” she swallowed as he eased an inch back then pressed forward, “you.”

“Look at me.”

She rested her cheek on her desk. Her eyes were glazed with arousal, pupils dilated so only a bronze millimeter was visible. “I feel your heart racing with mine.”

He slid his hand over the neatly trimmed dark curls and teased the glossy clit. A ragged groan came from her and the muscles in her ass tightened. “For the record, this has never happened.”

“What?”

“This.” A push of his hips into her buttocks had him coming. He caught her mouth as he caressed her clit until she was coming with him. Warm rain spilled over his fingers as her ass greedily squeezed him as if to drain every drop from him. “You murder my control, Lacey.”

He wanted to stay like this. A breath away from her, that luscious ass pressing into him. Reaching over, he brushed her hair out of her face so he could see her closed eyes and knowing little smile. “Sixty-seven,” he said softly.

“Sixty-six,” she corrected. “This morning was an inch.”

Yes, he thought. Yes, it was. “I like skirts. Wear them all the time.” She grinned then sighed.

“I like you in me, Donnelly.”

He caressed her hip as it was really the only thing reachable unless he wanted to start up the fires again. “I like being in you, Magerin. You got tissues in here?”

“Over there.” She waved a hand and he lifted his head long enough to look around her office.

Too far. He lowered his head. “I’m wrecked.” He kissed her and eased out of her. Shayne grabbed the box from the shelf then dragged a chair over to where she still lay face down on her desk. He traced the slight bruising on her ass from his penetration then leaned forward to kiss the spot he had spanked the other night. She had such a delicious ass and it was all his. He wiped her thighs then over her swollen sex then drew her onto his lap.

She was limp as she sprawled on him. “Can you promise not to touch me tomorrow?”

He lowered his mouth and kissed her shoulder. Leaving his lips against her skin, he exhaled a sigh. “My flight is at seven tomorrow night.” There was a subtle tensing in her body. Five days was usually more than enough time for him in Granville.

He caressed down her arm and toyed with her fingers. There was nothing pressing him to get back to Houston, it was just this place. Each of his short returns here made him feel like prey trapped in the embrace of a python, as if his very breath was being squeezed out of him one inch at a time.

His pressed their palms together and studied the difference in their hands. He felt like a Neanderthal next to her elegant hands. They were both quiet.

“You could stay a little longer.” Her voice was hesitant and unsure, very un-Lacey-like.

His lips moved against her hair as he spoke. “I could.” He spread his hand and slid his fingers between hers and watched as she folded hers.

“It would be a shame to miss the wheat festival.”

He smiled. “It would. All that wheat.”

“They have fireworks at the gravel pit.”

He folded their arms so they lay on her stomach. “I like fireworks.” This was the most unexpected conversation of his life. He pressed his mouth against her neck and smelled the sensual perfume she was wearing. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Todd will have questions. He knows why I don’t stay here. Why I can’t.” He should go tomorrow. Pack his padding up and go. That he was pondering staying told him this was a bad idea. Twenty-eight hours or two weeks, it would end with Lacey. He wouldn’t stay and she wouldn’t leave. There was no happy ending here.

“Do you want to stay?”

His lips glided up to her jaw and light kisses took him to her ear. “Yes,” he whispered. Damn them both, but he wanted to stay. He wanted more minutes with her. More fool him.

Dumb fucking answer but it was the only one he had. His thumb caressed along the outside of hers and along the lower curve of her breast.

Her phone rang, an inconvenient intrusion. She eased forward to answer. “Lacey Magerin.” She cleared her throat at her husky voice and he smiled as he drew his hand down her back. “Hi, baby. No, I’m fine.”

“Fine, so fine,” he muttered as he bunched up the pale yellow fabric of her blouse and explored the small of her back until he found the little zipper hidden at her hip. He eased it down and enjoyed the way the denim gaped open.

“It was good. Home team won. We kicked ass, including Uncle Todd’s and Shayne’s. You missed a good game. We also beat Coach and G in air hockey.”