Tori Carrington - Fire And Ice

Then there was that body…

Jena had dated many athletes in the past. She loved the solid feel of a man who looked after himself. The washboard abs. The hard muscles. At around six-foot three, Tommy’s build was as solid and mouth-wateringly hard as they came. Each and every muscle was defined and honed and ready to touch. She lightly rasped the side of her hand down over a finely developed pec, over a dark nipple, then down the ripples of his abdomen and his waist to where the black top sheet was draped across his narrow hips. Then she slid her fingers under the soft material, seeking and instantly finding the long, thick ridge of his soft arousal underneath. She smiled as that softness transformed into a throbbing, steel-hard erection.

A low sound rumbled in Tommy’s chest. “You didn’t tell me you were such a pro at greetings.”

Jena blinked up at him and smiled naughtily. “How do you mean?”

“Well, there was last night when I arrived. I don’t think a man in the world could have asked for a, um, warmer welcome.” His chocolate-brown eyes reflected amusement and heat as his right hand slipped down to cover her fingers, squeezing them against his flesh. “And if this isn’t the best ‘good morning’ I’ve ever gotten, then it’s a close second.”

“I’ll settle for best,” she murmured, giving a squeeze of her own making.

She watched his throat work around a thick swallow. “Hmm.”

She released him and folded back the sheet so she could get up.

“Whoa. Just where do you think you’re going?”

She smiled over her bare shoulder. “To get ready for work.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then his eyes narrowed. “We’re going to have to work on your follow-up.”

She laughed quietly and started to lift herself from the bed. He wrapped a hand around her wrist and hauled her back to him. She gasped. He grinned and waggled his brows at her.

“Surely you have five minutes.”

“Not even two.”

“Good, because one’s all I need.”

“Spoken like a true man.” She laughed, wriggling against him, the crisp hair of his chest teasing her sensitive nipples. “Yes, well, I happen to need more.”

“Think so, huh?”

“Know so.”

His hands disappeared for a brief moment as he sheathed himself with one of the condoms he’d tossed to the bedside table the night before.

“Tommy…”

“Shh.”

He rolled to his side then positioned her so that her bottom fit against him, snaking a hand around her hip and down to the V of her thighs. She gasped as he lightly pinched the flesh there then parted her to his attentions. In one smooth stroke he filled her from behind, pressing on her pulsing flesh from the front. Amazing even herself, Jena reached climax right then and there.

She fought to catch her breath even as he slowly rocked into her again.

“Told you,” he whispered into her ear.

“Smart-ass.”

He curved his fingers over her bottom. “Sweet ass.”

She began to wriggle away.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To shower.”

“I still have fifty-five seconds.”

Jena swallowed hard, the sensation of his thick flesh filling hers, the evidence of her own desire lubricating his strokes, heightening the chaos beginning to roll in her belly all over again.

“Oh, God,” she murmured between clenched teeth.

“Oh, Tommy,” he said in her ear.

Jena halted his fingers from where they tunneled in her curls then gave his hips a shove with her bottom until he was lying prone against the mattress. She followed, staying in the same position so that she straddled his hips with her back to him. Supporting herself with her hands between his legs, she moved up, then down, the length of his shaft, wishing she could see his expression, but getting immense satisfaction from the raspy sound of his breathing.

Up and down she moved, slowly, then more quickly, with each stroke stoking the flames licking through her body. Tommy grasped her hips, not halting her movements, rather enhancing them, his thumbs moving toward her bottom then parting her further.

His low groan sounded like he’d dredged it up from his chest. The sound wound around her, quickening her breath and her movements until skin slapped against skin, moans mingled with soft cries. Jena’s muscles suddenly contracted so violently she froze. Tommy kept up the pace with his hands, pulling her down, then up, then down again, drawing out her crisis until he stiffened, thrusting deep inside her, joining her in the red cloud of sensation that had descended over her.

They stayed like that for long moments, neither of them in a hurry to emerge from the tranquil aftermath. Then Tommy slowly repositioned her until she lay flat against him, her back against his front, his arousal still filling her.

“I think you should call in sick,” he murmured, absently stroking her breasts.

Jena nodded. “I think I should, too.”

FOR TWO STRAIGHT DAYS Jena tried to escape the apartment. And for two straight days Tommy found inventive ways to stop her.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his jean-clad legs at the ankle, listening to the sound of the shower in the other room even as he stared at where Caramel had taken up residence at his feet. Did he dare try for a third day? He could climb into the shower with her as he had done yesterday, work her up into a lather in more ways than one…

He downed the rest of his orange juice then rinsed the glass in the sink. No. Jena was a shrewd one. She might get caught off guard once, but never twice by the same situation.

No, he’d have to come up with something else.

He caught himself grinning. Oh, yeah. Coming to Jena McCade’s had been one of the smarter decisions he’d made in a while. Back in L.A. right now he’d be staring out at the Pacific outside his window, watching joggers with perfectly good legs eat up the beach and wondering just how in hell he’d gotten where he was. Yes, he knew. The problem was he’d begun to suspect his injury wasn’t the only motivation behind the thought. Instead he’d begun to look at his life in a different light. Without the day-to-day busyness that went with being a hockey player, the workouts, the practices, the scrimmages, the games both on and off the road…well, he’d come to the conclusion that he had too much time on his hands.

Time Jena knew all too well what to do with. With Jena, he didn’t have to think about whether or not he wanted to sit restlessly on the bench as the rest of his team played. Or worry that his knee might never feel the same again. He just…was.

And, oh, what a “was” it was, too.

Unfortunately it looked like that “was”…well, was coming to an end. Life was intruding with Jena going off to work. And, he reluctantly admitted, maybe it was time he let some of his own life back in. He’d known this brief interlude was meant to be brief. Yet he didn’t want it to end just yet, whether Jena went to work or not. After all, she had to come home at some point, right? And when she did…

Caramel pulled him out of his reverie by making a sound at his feet. He considered the fur ball. The two of them had come to a truce early on. He didn’t mess with her; she didn’t mess with him. He could, however, do without the smell that seemed to accompany her presence.

He fished his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and reviewed his voice mail. Five messages from his agent. Two from his physical therapist’s office. One from his mother. He chose his agent first.

“Jesus H. Christ, man, where have you been? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you forever. It’s like you dropped off the edge of the Earth, Brodie.”

Tommy rubbed his brow. Maybe calling Kostas Volanis back hadn’t been the greatest idea. His time could be better spent coming up with ways to get Jena back into bed.