Alex (Cold Fury Hockey #1)(82)

"I got the present I wanted, though," he counters.

"You mean you didn't want a blow job?" I tease.

"Every guy always wants a blow job," he sets me straight. "But I needed to be inside you so bad … I couldn't control myself, Sutton. I've never been turned on like that before. I felt like an animal."

Gripping his hair, I pull slightly so he turns his face and looks up at me. "I like you like that. I like the animal side of Alex Crossman."

He grins at me then raises up, supporting his weight on his arms. "Let's take a shower, then maybe you can give me my birthday present."

"Now you're talking," I tell him as I push back on his head, urging him to get up from the bed. He doesn't get up though. Instead, he places his lips in between my breasts, right in the center of my chest.

He gives me the lightest of kisses there, then looks up at me. "Seriously … you being here is the best present ever." 

I can't respond to him. He's looking at me with such happiness, such sincerity, I'm afraid that if I let any words out of my mouth, I may tell him that I've fallen in love with him. That would be foolish to do, because I know he doesn't feel the same way. I know he cares-a lot. But he's still holding back from me, and until such time as he opens up all the way, I know love is not going to be part of the equation.

Long after we shower and long after Alex's knees almost buckle while I lick and suck every inch of him, we lie in the bed facing each other and talk. I fill Alex in on how Garrett schemed with me about his birthday, and I can tell he's touched that he had a friend care enough about him to get his girl on a plane to visit.

We talk about the game tonight. I was there, Garrett also having secured me a ticket. Alex was spectacular tonight, and he actually surprises me by telling me how pumped and excited he was before the game. It's an enthusiasm that's stronger than any I've heard before from him, and it gives me the courage to ask, "What happened to the guy who hated playing hockey?"

I'm not teasing him when I ask that question. He knows I'm being serious.

Taking a finger and running it along my jaw, Alex seems deep in thought while he watches the path he's making. He trails his finger from my chin, down my throat and to the middle of my chest. Tapping a finger lightly against that area where my heart beats the strongest, he says, "I don't know. I just know that I see things differently."

"Why?" I ask, almost afraid of his answer. Because while I think I might be a changing factor in his life, even if he doesn't acknowledge that change will hurt, I know it will.

His gaze leaves his finger, which is still resting against my heart, and moves up to meet mine. "You're a force, Sutton. I felt it from the moment I laid eyes on you when I walked into the crisis center. You just radiate this-I don't know what to call it-but it's like a confidence I've never seen before. You have command of your life. You love life. It's a little intimidating, but it attracts me all the same."

"Why is that intimidating?" I ask him breathlessly, impatiently waiting for him to reveal more of his soul to me.

Reaching out, he grips my chin with his hand, holding me in place so I can't look away.

I wouldn't … not even if a herd of stampeding animals went by.

"Because you turned your life around. You had a shitty start and yet you conquered your past. You used it to give you strength and resilience, and you in turn give others strength and resilience. You made me look at things differently, and apparently I've found some joy for things that I thought were long dead and buried for me."

"I still don't get why that is intimidating?" I ask, not exactly getting how it all connects.

"Because," he says softly, then he leans in to kiss me. His lips touch my mouth softly, sliding back and forth with a hint of whispered breath, then he pulls back. "Because … I had a shitty start too, and I think it destroyed the best parts of me. I let it destroy the best parts of me, and honestly … it sometimes makes me angry that you were able to get past it and I can't. It sometimes makes me angry at you."

I blink a few times, unsure of what I just heard. He's staring at me openly, and he has laid something on me with such brutal honesty, I don't doubt a word of what he's just said. But unfortunately, rather than express tender emotions I thought he might have for me, he's just admitted that there's a part of me that he apparently doesn't like.



       
         
       
        

Because it makes him feel bad about himself.

Gah, that is some fucked-up thinking.