Gloves Off: a marriage of convenience hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 4)

“I’m not going to run away,” my wife says as she takes her makeup off in my en suite.

I’m leaning on the doorframe, arms folded across my bare chest, fascinated. I watched her get ready this morning and now I’m watching her get ready for bed.

I like it. I like it all. I like seeing her first thing in the morning with bedhead and a grumpy frown because I woke her up. I like having people over to our home for dinner, I like cooking for her, and I definitely like overhearing her friends tease her about our relationship.

Best sex of her life? Damn fucking right. Pride beats through me.

“What’s that look?” She arches an eyebrow at me, gaze snagging on my black boxer briefs.

“Just interested in this process.”

My thoughts slide to the other night, when I tried to go down on her and she wouldn’t let me. I keep seeing the flash of worry and self-consciousness in her eyes, so rare for her.

It’s something to do with that fucking ex of hers, the one who unenrolled her from medical school.

She leans up on her tiptoes to reach something in the cabinet, one of the bottles I moved over from her bathroom, and my gaze goes to the long line of her legs, her toned calves, the teasing curve of her ass beneath the hem of those silk shorts. Her wild hair is tied up into a knot on top of her head. The sight of her like this, something almost no one else gets to see, sends arousal through me.

In an instant, I want her so badly I can’t stand it.

I come behind her, hands sliding up her sides, my lips pressing to where the tiny, delicate strap sits on her shoulder. With care, I pull the elastic from her hair, watching it cascade in soft waves around her shoulders.

“I’m not done,” she says, but she sets the bottle on the counter, hands clutching the marble edge as my teeth scrape her soft skin.

“Yes, you are.”

I open a drawer, pull out a condom, and her breath catches when she sees where this is going. Against her ass, I’m already hard. Another breath catch.

Our eyes meet in the mirror. “Impatient asshole.”

“Mhm.” My mouth slants. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Holding her against me, I reach into the front of her shorts, where my fingers find wet, slick heat.

“No panties.”

Those defiant eyes flash. “I didn’t do it for you.”

I swirl my fingertips over her clit and her eyelids dip. Fuck, I love how ready she is for me. I love that this works for her as much as it works for me.

“Yes, you did.”

Her lips part like she has a smart comment lined up, but I sink my fingers into her and her eyes close, words forgotten.

“What were you going to say, sweetheart?” My tone is smug and teasing as I work that sensitive, ridged spot inside her.

“Uh.”

Her eyes stay closed as I fuck her with my hand, her pussy soaked and tight around my fingers. A flush of pink grows across her cheeks, down her neck, and across her chest. So fucking pretty and perfect. My other hand slips up her camisole, palming her breast. At the quick pinch of my fingers on her nipple, her teeth clamp together like she’s trying not to moan.

A sense of challenge floods me and I shove my boxers down, reach for the condom, and roll it on. While she’s still blinking from the loss of my fingers inside her, I yank her shorts down, push her forward, line myself up with her entrance, and sink inside.

“Holy fuck,” she breathes as I push deeper.

She’s so fucking tight and hot, I can barely think. My first thrusts are slow and steady to get her used to the snug fit, but she’s wet and ready for me, hands flexing on the countertop, breathing hard. Watching her bent over while I fuck her is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, though, and before long, my hips are flush against her ass as I sink deep.

She braces an elbow on the countertop, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle a low noise.

“Oh no, you fucking don’t.” I pull her wrist away, grab her other one, banding them behind her back. “Don’t you dare hide from me, Georgia.” I sink my hand into the back of her hair, gripping the soft strands to hold her head up so I can see her expression in the mirror. “Open your eyes and watch me fuck my wife.”

Our gazes meet in the mirror—hers unfocused, needy, and cloudy with lust, mine sharp and hot—and I almost come right there. Her pussy clenches around my cock, her eyelids dip, and the pressure around the base of my spine coils tighter.

This is not the hate fuck from the benefit. This is so, so much more. I’m addicted to this woman, to her pleasure and the way she trusts me with it.

“You love it like this, don’t you, Hellfire? Rough and hard?”

Her teeth grit together. Stubborn little brat.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” she rushes out, and another pulse of heat moves through me.

“You’re made for this. Made for taking my cock.”

She nods. Something about Georgia admitting how much she wants me, following my commands, letting me take control over her, makes me feel like a fucking king. My lips come to her ear, still gripping her hair, her wrists.

“If I let your wrists go,” I murmur while I fuck her, “can I trust you to be a good wife and keep your hands behind your back?”

She looks like she wants to argue, so I drop a kiss to her neck.noveldrama

“It’ll be worth it,” I add, and she huffs a laugh.

“Fine.”

“Good girl.”

Her throat works, and she tightens around me again. When my fingers slide through the wetness between her legs, she lets out a choked gasp. A few tight, firm circles on her clit and she’s already coming, letting out high, breathy moans that I hoard like treasure. Her muscles begin to spasm, tightening and pulsing around me, and my hands come to her hips, gripping them for leverage as I fuck her hard.

Something about reducing this smart, mouthy woman to a desperate, shuddering mess sets me on fire. The urgent pressure in my groin overflows, heat roaring through me, shattering my senses. I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I just clutch her against me and spill into the condom, feeling like my DNA is being rearranged. Wishing I was coming inside her with nothing in between us.

Wishing I could call her my wife for real.

The last thought isn’t even a concern anymore. That’s how far gone I am. I don’t care if she’s not there yet. I’ll be patient. I’ll wait until my wife is ready.

We catch our breaths, gaze meeting in the mirror. Her face is still flushed, her chest rising and falling fast. Hair wild. I’m still inside her, not ready to pull out just yet.

“That’s a good look on you.”

She lets out a silent laugh. Once we’ve cleaned up and are lying in bed, I turn to her. Her hair spills over the pillows, golden strands glinting in the dim light from the bedside lamp. A pretty pink glow still on those cheeks. She stares at the ceiling, a pinch between her eyebrows.

“Did I go too hard?”

“A little.” Her gaze slides to mine, embarrassment and something a little sly in her eyes. “But I didn’t mind.”

“Would you say I melted your brain?”

“That’s it.” She starts to get out of bed, face flaming with embarrassment. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

I catch her in my arms, pulling her against me, caging her in. “Like hell you are.” My fingers lift her chin so our eyes meet. “Hey.” I press a soft kiss to her lips. “Best fuck of my life, too.”

She swallows as I search her gaze.

Pressure swells in my chest, so expanding and consuming I can barely breathe as I gaze into her eyes. It’s Georgia, I’ve realized. Maybe it’s been Georgia for a long time. The intense emotions I’ve always felt toward her—maybe they were never hate. Maybe they were the opposite.

“What are we doing, Georgia?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do.” I want her to say it, though. I want her to trust me. And yet, I can’t help pushing her limits. “I like you.”

She frowns. Sits up and stiffens. “What?”

“I like you,” I repeat slowly. I can feel the corner of my mouth sliding up.

She laughs, nervous and tight. “Well, not like that.”

I nod. She’s freaking out but it’s fucking cute. “Like that. I like you like that.”

“But we said⁠—”

“I know what we said. I know what we agreed to. I still like you.”

It’s freeing, putting it all out on the line like this. Or most of it.

“Who just says that?” she demands. “What kind of game is this, Alexei?”

Don’t laugh, I tell myself. It’ll make her really mad. That could be fun, though.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Her tone comes out sharp, and I really do start laughing.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m cute or something.”

“You are cute. I just pulled your hair, bent you over, and fucked you against the counter, but this is what makes you want to bolt?”

She sucks a deep breath in through her nose, folding her arms across her stomach. “You hate me.”

Did I ever actually hate her? Or did I just hate that I wanted to fuck her so badly? Did I hate how much I thought about her?

I don’t know anymore. I just like bickering with her in bed like this.

“I hate you,” I lie, reaching for her, tucking her against my chest, turning off the light and pulling the duvet around us, “but I still think you’re cute. And I still like you.”