The Stillness Of You(29)
Mike was serious, but then most hockey guys were.
"McKinskey was a popular son-of-a-bitch you know? He had future Captain written all over him. He had some legs on him too, but his hands needed work. I see that now. You've got soft hands, good stick handling hands and speed to match. But a lot of folks including myself thought you were just too damn young to fill McKinskey's shoes."
I didn't say anything. Mostly because it was nothing I hadn't heard before. I'd always been the youngest. Always been the fastest, the most accurate. I could nail the top shelf, hit any corner more consistently than any guy I knew.
So, I got what he was saying. I also got that he was wrong and he knew it. I was gonna do more than fill McKinskey's shoes. I was going take them all the way to Lord Stanley this year.
Mike held out his hand and I shook it.
"I'm impressed," he said with a wink.
"Thanks, I'll do my best to deliver."
He yelled out to his guys and then I was alone.
I thought of the phone call earlier and moved toward the trees, my thoughts not so easy anymore.
The barn was quiet, the far corner lit up with these big ass lights Georgia had brought in. Canvases were piled up along the wall to my left, some empty, most of them filled with dark images. She was good, but I wasn't exactly into the stuff she was painting. It was too dark. Too raw and it fucking confused me.
How could someone so light and beautiful produce these images of abstract faces with slashed eyes, some covered as if they were prisoners, some not, and mouths open in silent screams?
Hell, I didn't know anything about art though even my untrained eye knew they were good. But they were creepy.
The thing of it was, I'd hang one up in my front hall if she asked me too. I'd hang one of those fuckers up in every single room in my house if she asked me to. I'd put one above my bed, or over the mirror in my bathroom. Hell, I'd hang one on the front door if she would just explain them to me.
They meant something, I just didn't know what, but considering they scared the shit out of me, I had a feeling it wasn't anything good.
Tense, I shook out my hands and watched her.
The canvas was on an angle and I couldn't see what she was working on, but her nose was wrinkled up something fierce, her hair a mad pile on top of her head. Smudges of dark color slashed across her cheeks, and the white tank top she wore had ridden up so that her belly button peeked out.
Her cut off shorts were damn sexy and I think I might have growled like an animal-a fucking dog-because suddenly she glanced up and my body went still at the look in her eyes.
"Don't come closer." She shook her head slowly and put down her brush. "I don't want you to see this. It's a surprise." The smile that fell across her face was one I would keep in my head forever. It was unguarded. Pure.
And at the moment it was all for me.
"Hey," I managed to say.
"Hey yourself," she replied with a soft giggle and then she ran toward me and didn't stop until she was in my arms with her legs wrapped around my waist.
The girl was covered in paint and still smelled like summer. How the hell was that possible?
She kissed me, her mouth hot, her tongue insistent and all coherent thought flew out of my head. It was gone. Everything was gone except Georgia. I was so hot for this girl that she could reduce me to a pile of aching need in seconds.
My hands splayed across her ass and I held for as long as I could, our mouths taking from each other as if we hadn't kissed in days. Or weeks.
I managed to break contact and tried to speak. I think I might have said something like, babe, we gotta go-or not-because she slid down my body, her hands gripping my shorts and pulling them with her as she went.
That was all it took. It was game on and I was more than ready.
Her cheeks were flushed, her hair had fallen out of the clip thing on top of her head and she was reaching for the edge of her tank top as I stepped out of my shorts and moved toward her. I didn't give her time to completely undress. The sight of her perfect, round tits was enough to make me come apart and I yanked open her shorts and pushed them down enough for me to get a glimpse of her.
She was fucking commando. Again. Jesus Christ, this girl was killing me.
"Condoms," I said roughly, my hand between her legs, my fingers already inside her.
She stared up at me, breasts heaving, and groaned as my fingers found her spot-the one that made her tremble-and it was the hottest sound ever. I gotta tell you, there's nothing better for a guy than knowing you could make your girl sound as if she was losing her mind when your hands were on her.
"Front pocket … shorts," she managed to say on a gasp.
For the past two weeks we'd been going at it like sex was new. Like we were never going to see each other again and we had condoms stashed all over the place. My bedroom. The kitchen. The bathroom. The deck. The barn.
Her shorts were halfway down her thighs, and I reached inside the pocket, found a condom and then yanked her shorts all the way off.
Georgia didn't say anything. She just looked up at me with this unreadable expression and I exhaled roughly as I struggled to get the condom on my dick. I was so hard and ready and-I glanced at her again-anxious.
Her fingers reached for me and she finished the job in silence and when she looked up it felt as if my world had just tipped a little off its axis.
She made this sound in the back of her throat, the one that could bring me to my knees, and I gave my head a shake, needing a bit of clarity as I reached for her, wanting her so badly it was all I could think about.
Being inside her. And sure, I was going all Tarzan on her, but I wanted to claim her. Brand her.
I didn't want anyone else touching her.
I backed her up to the wall and just as her mouth opened beneath mine, I brought her knee as high as it would go and then I was inside her.
I groaned into her mouth. "God, babe you feel so fucking good."
Then I deepened the kiss, though I kept my eyes open-I couldn't take them off her-because something was happening. Some shift in the universe … some crack in my heart.
I watched as her pupils dilated, as her tongue licked the edges of her mouth. I watched as her breasts rose and fell every time I drew out slowly and then thrust back inside her body.
There were no words. Just the feel of her frantic heart, the look in her eyes, and the vague notion that something was different. That something had changed.
I brushed a long piece of hair off her forehead and kissed her face as I continued to lose myself in her. I felt her nails in my shoulders, then down my back and then digging into my ass, urging me to go faster. Harder.
Something about what we were doing felt desperate. Hungry.
I leaned my right palm on the wall behind her, her leg wrapped around my hips and I gazed down into her face as I brought it home. I felt her tighten around me and she started murmuring all kinds of things, but I didn't know what the words were.
I could only hear what was inside my head.
I fucking love you.
And then we came together and I held her, panting and confused. Holy shit. Was this it? Was this the real deal here in my arms?
Tenderly, I let her fall away from me and still there were no words between us. Only touch. Her hand on my face. Only looks. My gaze glued to hers.
I got rid of my condom, enjoying Georgia as she leaned back against the wall, her body covered in sweat. Her body covered in me.
I reached for her, wanting to keep this feeling for as long as we could when a very distinct voice echoed from outside.
"Benjamin! Where are you?"
Georgia froze in my arms and glanced up at me, her mouth pursed, her eyes wild.
Shit.
"Who's that?" she whispered as she pushed past me and grabbed her clothes off the floor. She tossed my shorts at me and I caught them, sliding into them as fast as I could go. From the sound of it we didn't have much time.
"Benjamin?"
Not much time at all.
"Ben?" Georgia whispered, pulling her shirt over her head and struggling to do up the fly on her shorts.
"It's my mother."
"Are you kidding me?" Her head snapped up so fast I swear I heard her neck crack. "Your … " She ran her fingers through her hair, wincing at the tangles. "Oh my god, she's going to smell it."