Charley laughed as she went to retrieve it, leaving him by the wall, fighting like the devil to will away his hard-on.
“You’re a cheater.”
Alex’s comment only made her laugh louder.
Charley brought the puck to center ice, and the two of them squared off for one-on-one.
For the next hour, the two of them battled up and down the ice, and while he’d seriously expected to kick her ass, Charley was as fierce an opponent as she’d been when they were kids.
Though these days, she was employing some pretty devious means to ensure she stayed in contention.
Alex had spent the entire time grimacing in pain as he tried to skate with an erection that wasn’t going anywhere.
Every time he managed to get himself under control, Charley would stroke his dick or his ass or brush up against him with her tits.
One time, in the middle of a fight for control of the puck behind the net, she pressed her ass against his crotch, wiggling it seductively, suggestively, distracting him enough that she managed to steal the puck and score.
They’d matched each other goal for goal.
They were sweaty, red-faced, breathing heavily.
And tied.
“Last one?” she asked as they faced off in the center of the ice.
She’d played hard, played to win.
And for the first time in his life, Alex didn’t care about coming out on top in the game.
“What will you give me if I concede?”
Charley straightened up, clearly shocked. “What?”
Alex dropped his stick and reached for her. “What will you give me if I concede the game, Charley?”
She frowned, struggling with his question. “You never concede.”
“You’re right. I don’t. So make it worth my while.”
Charley was bold, beautiful.
Fearless.
She let her stick fall to the ice next to his.
Then she sank to her knees.
Their hands brushed against each other’s as they worked together to free his cock from his pants. He’d been too hard for too long.
Alex didn’t bother to hold back his groan of relief the second the constricting pressure from his pants was gone.
Then he groaned again when Charley took the head of his dick in her mouth.
This wasn’t going to last nearly long enough.
“Charley. God. Sweetheart.” He gripped the sides of her head, pressing himself deeper. He prided himself on his control, his sustaining power.
With her, he lost all control.
Charley didn’t seem to mind. She shivered when his hands closed and he fisted her hair tightly. She had a similar grip on his hips, her fingers digging into his pants, seeking purchase.
“Jesus. Yeah.” Alex shifted his hips faster, his blood on fire, his desires drowning out every instinct that might have warned him to slow down, take it easy.
He took her mouth hard, some primal need roaring in his head, telling him he had to claim her, possess her, keep her.
She was the steadying influence, more stable with her knees on the ice, while Alex slid back and forth on his skates.
He’d played hockey for most of his life, learning to skate about three minutes after he learned to walk.
Every important moment in his life had taken place on a rink.
But nothing that had ever happened before held a candle to this.
Between Charley, the ice, the game they’d just played…
“Fuck,” he yelled out, coming in hard bursts that proved just how long he’d been riding the edge of this storm.
Charley stilled and held him in her mouth until he managed to pull himself together.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, releasing her hair, stroking her face gently.
She sat back on her ankles, and for a moment, he felt guilty.
She had to be cold.
The guilt faded when she looked up, her face pure victory.
The Alex he’d been before this week would have hated that expression, would have taken it as a challenge to renew the game, to keep playing, keep fighting until the victory was his.
But that Alex wasn’t here anymore.
Instead, he reached down to help her stand, wrapping her in his arms, holding her close.
“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” he teased.
She laughed as she pulled away enough to lift her face to his. “The idea of giving you shit about this would be more satisfying if you didn’t look like the cat who ate the canary.”
Alex chuckled and kissed her forehead. “It was a hell of a blow job.”
“Dammit.”
Alex awoke and glanced around the living room, then at his watch.
It was just after midnight.
He and Charley had come back to her place after their hockey game, and she’d made a big pot of spaghetti and garlic bread. After which, they’d hit the couch, clicking on some rom com she’d been wanting to see.
He looked over and realized she’d fallen asleep too.
He’d been back in Wisconsin four days, and so far, they’d seen their parents twice, both of them slipping off their wedding rings before leaving the apartment.
As far as both of their families were concerned, they’d reunited after eight years in Vegas, then hooked up at the wedding. Bella referred to Alex as Charley’s rebound guy, then pulled Alex aside, warning him to keep the affair short, and promising retribution if he hurt her best friend.
Alex tried not to take offense in Bella’s comments. After all, his track record when it came to romance and relationships was…well…nonexistent.
As crazy as it was to admit, these five days with Charley were the longest he’d ever spent with any woman—the previous record was three days, and that was only because he’d gotten snowed in—fucking blizzard—with Rebecca, and while the bloom had been off the rose by day three, he’d figured it was better to keep fucking her, considering the alternative meant talking to the boring woman. He’d followed the first snowplow out, driving on treacherous roads, just to get away from her.
While he tried to tell himself Bella was right to have concerns, it still chafed when she acted like he was a total dick.
Charley was different from his usual hookups because she was a friend. A friend—and wife—who knew the deal.
She’d agreed to a two-week honeymoon.
Fourteen days.
Five were already gone, which meant they were now in single digits.
With Rebecca, he’d been watching for the snowplow.
With Charley…he was dreading the end.
“We must’ve fallen asleep,” she said, her voice quiet in the dark room. The only light came from the television.
“Movie was shit,” he murmured.
She snickered. “So much for your romantic side.”
Alex reached out and she took his hand, letting him pull her toward him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, loving the way she nuzzled into him. Everything with her felt so easy and natural.
“I’m romantic,” he said, feeling as though he should defend himself. Her words, combined with Bella’s warnings, were getting to him.
Charley, who never let him get away with anything, laughed.
“Seriously,” he protested.
“Fine. What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done?”
Only one thing popped into his mind, but it wasn’t something he was willing to say out loud.