The Stillness Of You(14)

"Oh, Ben." I whimpered.

My hands fell to his shoulders for support and when he cupped my butt   and pulled me against his erection I might have screamed. Or moaned. God   I hope I moaned because a scream was a little much. But there you have   it. That's how worked up I was.

His hands were slowly inching my skirt up and then I felt his open palm   on my butt cheek gently coaxing me up. I let him. I let him lift me and  I  wrapped my legs around his waist as if he was my savior. By this  time  my dress sat above my hips and he had full access to everything  below  it.

And boy did he let his hands wander. They slid over my hips and caressed   my cheeks, sending little sparks of desire along my skin.

His mouth caught mine again, our lips meshing with need... urgent, hot   need. I wanted him so badly that all coherent thought fled. And as his   hands slowly kneaded the small of my back and made their way down to my   ass, every touch of his fingers and stroke of his tongue had me in   flames.

His mouth. His hands. The combination was nearly more than I could take.

We kissed for so long that my head spun and when his mouth finally left   mine, I shuddered against him because he immediately sought out the   small dip in my neck. We stumbled back into the wall and his hands   became more urgent, his large palms full of me as he grinded his   erection into my crotch.

"I can't wait anymore," he rasped against my neck, before kissing me   once more, a quick slide of lips and tongue. "I need to see you."

He held me, my head nestled into the crook of his shoulder, as he slowly made his way down the hall to my bedroom.

Once inside I slid down the length of him, though my arms clung to his neck and I refused to move away from his heat.

For a long time, Ben held me there his forehead against mine, the two of us breathing erratically and our hearts beating fast.

His hand caressed the side of my face and he moved my hair behind my   shoulder, tracing my skin there with soft, butterfly kisses.

"You're beautiful."

"So are you," I answered.

His hands slid down to the small of my back as his mouth made its way   back to mine. I opened for him and this time the kiss was deep. It was   about touch and thrust and taste.

Holy shit, but he was a good kisser. I could have spent minutes, hours,   just kissing him. Tasting him and feeling him. But Ben had other ideas   and as his hands gently tugged my dress higher (it was still bunched   around my waist) I leaned back and held up my arms so he could lift it   over my head.                       
       
           



       

Dilated pupils stared back at me. "Holy fuck, Georgia, I knew it."

"Knew what?" I said breathlessly.

He nodded and stepped away, running his hands over the stubble that   shadowed his jaw. "I knew that when I got you half naked wearing those   shoes, it would do me in."

Something powerful stirred inside me, something hot and delicious. "I'm not taking them off."

"Good." He said with a devilish grin. "But you should ditch the bra."

I couldn't help but smile. "I might consider it but you'll have to take   your shirt off first." I glanced down at myself. "I'm feeling a little   underdressed."

He was unbuttoning his shirt before I finished talking.





Chapter Eleven





Ben





If you had told me that I was going to be a nut job over a girl last   week, I would have laughed and told you that you were fucking crazy. I'm   young. Barely twenty-four. I play hockey in the National Hockey League   and in the last few years I'd seen and had more women, than my mother   ever needed to know about.

Up until a few days ago I wasn't looking for a relationship and I sure   as hell wasn't looking to hook up with Matt King's sister. Shit, just   the thought of the R word, relationship, should have freaked me the hell   out because relationships changed a guy. Case in point? Jim Boone, my   right winger in LA. He got all goofy over an actress he'd met last   summer, started spouting the L word and he even let her convince him to   cut off his signature hockey hair. The dude kept it long-it was his   thing-but after she entered the picture it was one of the first things   to go.

His hair and then his balls. She said jump and he fucking did. He was so   into her that after hockey she was pretty much it, and I used to ride   him for it big time-we all did. We called him ‘ball-less Boone'.

A week ago all I cared about was finding a place in Philly, getting   acquainted with the team and having some fun. Getting laid. Partying a   bit until it was time to crack the whip and start training for the   coming season.

I'd reached my goal of playing for my dream team and was getting paid a   shitload of money to do it. Life was good. It was summer and I was  ready  to kick it and have a good time. A week ago that stuff mattered  to me.

But not anymore. Of course hockey was still number one, but now there was Georgia. Now it could be so much better.

The difference between last week and right now was staring at me … a five   foot five slice of heaven in the sexiest come-fuck-me shoes I had ever   seen.

She was every guy's wet dream. The girl with a killer bod, hair you wanted to bury your hands in and eyes that didn't quit.

But aside from all that, she was special. She was smart, funny, and   kinda deep-I loved the way her nose wrinkled when she was thinking about   something. She liked to argue and I was cool with that because it was   almost like foreplay. She was one of a kind.

And I was nervous as fuck standing here in front of her.

Watching Georgia, watch me.

"Are you going to take that shirt off?"

I tossed it onto the floor in less than two seconds. I could tell that   she liked what she saw-I was grateful for the shitload of crunches and   bench presses I'd done-and if I didn't think I'd look like an asshole   I'd flex, just to see her eyes widen and watch that hot pink tongue slip   over her bottom lip.

But that might have been over-doing it.

"Okay," I said watching her closely. "We're even."

"No," she answered shaking her head. "We're not."

I didn't answer. I took a few seconds to take in every detail because I   swear in this moment, this picture frame that she presented, was one  I'd  keep for myself when I was travelling on the road in the fall. This   picture was pretty damn perfect and it was just for me.

She wasn't stacked the way a lot of girls I'd come into contact with   were, but her breasts were real and the bra she wore did a damn good job   of showing them off. And hell, if I wasn't a fan of those little, boy   thing panties she liked to wear, I was now.

She was toned-I could tell that she worked out, but there were curves   where there were supposed to be curves. I knew Georgia didn't survive on   a diet of green lettuce and water. I liked that. There was nothing   worse than being with a girl in a restaurant, getting ready to dig into   prime rib and watching her pick at a plate full of greens.

Not Georgia. She was real.

She licked her lips and the tent pole in my pants strained even more. That was real too-painfully real.

She leaned back, her shoulders flush to the wall her legs spread just   enough to get my blood boiling even more than it already was.                       
       
           



       

"The jeans, Mr. Lancaster."

I couldn't smile even if I wanted to. Hell, my teeth were ground together so tightly that if I wasn't careful I'd get lockjaw.

I reached for my belt, my eyes on her as she splayed her hands onto the   wall, her fingers spread out like a web with their red tipped nails.  Her  underwear was a light color, almost nude, and I saw the tops of her   nipples peeking over. Hot. Fucking hot.

I started to tug on the belt. Shit.

With an irritated ‘fuck,' I bent over and unlaced my boots, kicking them   to the side once I had them off and my jeans followed suit. All I had   on were my boxers.

"Now, we're even." I dinged her with a look that said I was done playing games. "Off with the bra."

She pushed off from the wall and took two steps forward. "You take it off."

I was there in front of her before she could blink and she leaned into   me, sighing when our skin touched. My hands snaked behind her back,   sliding up her spine and for a moment I just held her. She fit perfectly   against me and if I could have stayed like that forever I would have.

But I wanted more. I wanted a hell of a lot more. I'd been thinking   about it all day-what it would feel like to hold her, to taste her, to   look in her eyes when I was inside her. To rock into her over and over   again and listen to her whimper because I was making her come.