Delayed Penalty (Crossing the Line, #1)(56)

"Take me…" I ventured trying my luck one last time.

"Not here." And then he pulled away completely and took me by the hand. His answer wasn't completely no. I knew that.





The moment we got back to his condo, the warmth of his chest was a reminder of how close we were again. His lips skimmed over my shoulder. I turned and pushed him, and we fell back against his couch.

"Fuck, Ami," he spoke against my lips, his hands moving from my hips to the hem of the jersey I was wearing, and he removed it. I liked that. This was new.

I smiled, giving him a wink.

Leaning forward, bare chested now, I peppered kisses over his scruffy jaw and straddled him again.

Next was his shirt. I removed it, feeling his muscles as I did. He hissed out a low breath, his eyes squeezed shut, and his grip tightened against my hips. He reached around to stroke the swell of my ass.

His fingers dug into my ass, urging me closer to him, reading my mind, knowing I needed something from him. His hands were groping me blindly, moving from one spot to the next.

"Don't stop," I gasped when I felt him slowing down.

"I'm not," he promised, his gaze traveling over my face before his mouth was back on mine and he moved his hips up to meet mine, grinding against me slowly.

Goal.

He groaned at the contact, his head falling against the back of the couch. His body answered mine again, his pelvis thrusting against me slowly at first but gradually picking up speed.

Our sounds filled his living room, my fingers clenching in his hair, my mouth open in a strangled whimper as I felt tension in my belly from his movements against my hips and then a sharp tingle, followed by relaxation. It literally felt like a weight had been lifted off me. I missed that sensation so very much. It was like taking the cap off a carbonated beverage.

A moment later, I felt Evan tense underneath me, his hands on my hips. He pushed against me once more. He buried his face in my hair, releasing a jagged moan against the skin of my neck. His body stilled, the only movement was our breathing.

"I feel like I'm f*cking fourteen again and making out in the backseat of a car, only to lose my shit before anything cool happens," he finally spoke, his voice gritty and languid.

"That wasn't cool?" I giggled, burying my blushing face against his chest before pushing myself away to stare down at him. Taking in his droopy eyes and flushed cheeks, I gathered he at least enjoyed it.

"It was definitely cool. Just messy."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He gave me a nod to move, so I did and then he moved to stand, extending his hand to me. "Shower?"

My mouth gaped open at the invitation and he added, "Separately." He laughed when I stood, wobbling a little. "That was cool and all, but a guy like me can't guarantee I won't go for the hat trick."

When we got into the bathroom, he handed me a towel, hummed quietly, and moved his face to nuzzle against my cheek. "I'm hungry…you?"

"Yeah, I could eat." I chuckled, leaning against the glass door of the shower, my feet cold from the stone floor.

"I'll make something." He kissed my cheek, noticing that it burned slightly. "Take your time. You've got quite the scruff burn. Sorry. Got a little carried away."

"It's okay. I liked it."

"Me too." He winked, reaching inside the glass doors of the shower to turn the water on. The spray sputtered for a moment and then found a continuous line. "Like I said, take your time."

He turned on his heel, a grin plastered on his face. I watched him walk away, his jeans hung low and the top of his black boxer briefs just barely seen at the top. Just before he got to the door, he shook his ass a little, knowing I was watching, and then closed the bathroom door behind him.

Damn hockey player. He was so smooth.

I did take my time, as I always did in Evan's shower. Shitty thing was it gave me time to think about what just happened.

But I didn't regret it, and I didn't feel weird about it. I felt right about it. When I left the hospital, they had this counselor come in and talk to me about being physically intimate again. They made it sound like it would be hard to let someone get close like that. When I imagined what happened to me, I imagined it being horrible, and I couldn't even begin to comprehend what women who remembered went through. When I listened to that counselor talk about how I would feel, and that it was okay to feel that way, I had some concerns that maybe I wouldn't be able to be intimate again. What if I couldn't do it? What if this guy had ruined me for someone like Evan? My mind immediately went to us. I imagined what it would be like. I imagined the things he would say to me and the gentle way he would regard my body.

And when he did everything I imagined, that was what made it okay. That was why I could do it. It wasn't because I didn't have a memory of the incident. It was because it was Evan. It was because Evan gave me back that power and control. He let me choose. Since that first kiss to now, he may have instigated the intimacy on more than one occasion, but he always waited for me to make the move. Instead of taking, he was giving.

Sometimes I felt like maybe I wasn't right for someone like Evan, but then again, was anyone really right for anyone? And I guess I only say that because I look at Evan and I think to myself, "Wow, how'd I get so lucky to have a guy like him come my way?"