Therapy

Blurb

Chris's last affair with a professional hockey player ended badly. But she'd escaped and run--right into the arms of Rick Ballantine, a man with the same profession. But Rick refuses to lose her to her fears. He proposes an intriguing idea for some very special therapy--at his hands...

Excerpt

He waited for her patiently. At least by the expression on his face, but his cock jutted out, beckoning her forward.

"Therapy, huh?"

The corner of his mouth curled up. "Yeah. You offer the best TLC this side of heaven."

She felt herself color and her face grew warm. "You're a man with a lot of patience and I should have realized it a whole lot sooner." She dropped her shirt to the bench, then toed off her shoes, and pushed her pants down over her hips. She stood there looking at him, and he held out his arms.

She felt no hesitation in going to him. When his strength enveloped her, it made her feel finally she was in the right place, with no hesitation.

"You're the woman who has my heart wrapped right around her little pinky." Reaching up she touched his lips, then on tiptoes claimed his mouth with hers. Her hands dropped to tease his puckered nipples, then feathered down across his broad chest, to narrow, lean hips, and circled around to cup his tight buttocks.

Breaking the kiss, she glanced up at him, hoping everything she felt was there for him to see. He raised his hands to cup her face, gazing at her as though memorizing the look, and then he smiled. "It's not there."

"What?"

"The shield I always see. It's gone and I can see that light I was certain you had hidden inside. Right now it's so bright it could damn well challenge the winning numbers on a scoreboard."

In her estimation that was saying something. "I love you, Rick."

This time his smile was gentle. "I know, sweetheart. But you were always keeping something from me and I couldn't figure out what it was." He leaned down to feather kisses over her forehead and along her jaw. "I'm glad you finally confided in me. I was afraid it wasn't going to work—that what I did for a living would eventually pull us apart. If you hated hockey so much, I knew, deep down, we weren't going to be able to make a go of it."

Tears again pooled in her eyes as she gripped him tighter. "I wanted to ignore it—pretend it would eventually go away. But it never did." She scattered kisses all over his chest and up along the column of his throat. "I love everything about you. I've just been afraid that if I came here, saw you play, saw even a glimmer of the anger that was inside Craig, I wouldn't be able to stay. I was so torn." He lifted her against him. "What happens on the ice, stays on the ice. I would never take anything like that home to you. I might get a tad moody, break a hockey stick or two, but I'd never hurt you, Chris. I swear it."

She leaned down. "Make love to me. Please."

The wooden benches were wide. Reaching around her, he quickly spread her coat out with the satin lining exposed. He lay her on the coat, spread her out and then proceeded to remove her panties with his teeth, dragging them down over her legs, along her calves and dropped them to the floor. Starting at her toes, he kissed and licked his way up her body.

Tenderly, he spread her legs wider and her feet dropped to the cool floor, but she was so hot it actually felt good. She was burning for him to fuck her, to make love to her, to be inside her. Her pussy was wet and ready, sensitive and needy. His hands smoothed along her thighs. "I love touching you. Your skin is so silky and fine. After a day here, pushing myself to the limits on the ice or in the exercise room, do you have any idea how good it feels to lie next to you in bed? Or to share a quiet dinner and just touch you? I don't think I can put into words what you do to me." He leaned forward and she felt his breath at her entrance. When his tongue flicked her clit, she arched with the sensation.

"Oh, Rick, yes."

His tongue traced over her outer lips. His warm, hard hands at her abdomen stroked and kneaded her skin, sending her higher, like skimming over the ice on a winter day. Her body vibrated with life, needing more of him.

And then his tongue dipped inside her, tasting her. She convulsed as desire arced through her. They were light touches, worshiping her body, stroking her gently, hands gliding across her skin with purpose and expertise.

He pulled her passion from her, in ways she hadn't thought possible, in a place where she'd only ever had nightmares. Yet here and now, nowhere could be more perfect, no man, no touch more important than at this moment.

Her emotions began to spiral inside her as his tongue pressed deeper, coaxing and pulling from her. She arched her hips, wanting more of him. As he sucked at her, he stroked her clitoris with his fingers. She felt her climax building, knew she was about to shatter, pushed against him, forcing his tongue deeper still.