in case he ruined whatever was happening.
“No seduction necessary?” The words were a ghosted breath on her lips, almost disbelief in her tone.
“None. No one should need to be tricked into kissing you.”
“Hypothetically,” she whispered.
He watched her mouth, mesmerized by the plumpness of her lips, the dark pink color, the slight quiver that invited him in.
“Hypothetically,” he returned, his mouth so close to hers it would take an act of Congress to move him away. She would have to withdraw because he sure as hell was going nowhere. This was where he wanted to be.
Needed to be.
A small sound emerged from her throat, and with it some sort of plea. He took it as such and took her mouth with his.
Ah, sighed his heart, and hell yeah, shouted his cock. He had ventured no further than her lips but he already knew that this kiss would destroy him.
Knowing this, that his world would be forever changed, he went for it anyway. A hand on her hip, a tug forward, a moan of encouragement, and he was in deep, wrapped around her with his body and his mouth and what was left of his brain. She opened up for him, giving him all that sweetness with a generosity that shook him to his core. Her hands dug into his shoulders, branding him with fire and want. He liked that she was tall and he didn’t have to crouch. It felt like they were meeting this kiss as equals.
But they weren’t equals. She was his trainee, too young, an innocent in the ways of men and asshole hockey players. He was her mentor in more ways than one. And don’t get him started on who she was related to. Vadim would roast his balls over a bonfire if he ever found out.
This had to end.
But not yet.
Just a few more seconds to feel more alive than he’d felt in years.
He curled a hand around the nape of her neck and held her still for plundering. His other hand cupped the sweet curve of her ass and squeezed. Pulled her close. Let her know what she was doing to him.
Their tongues twined, and now it was absolute pent-up need exploding and expressed in a wanton, mouth-fuck of a kiss. His hand on her ass dipped between the cleft, rubbing against that thin, stretchy fabric, seeking to make her feel good. To create a memory she might store for later.
Her soft breasts smashed against his chest. Christ, she felt so good. Tasted better. Her moans became louder, her body cleaved to his, desperate to rub and get as close as two horny-as-hell people could get with their clothes on.
This had to end.
But not yet.
He pulled back and met her glazed-over eyes, smoky with desire, telling him all he needed to know. She would give him everything right now. Over the stool. On the counter. In the bedroom. He could take her, have her, own her, and she would be all in.
Then what? Awkward run-ins. Weirdness around Petrov. Not to mention his balls on fire, from either seeing her and being unable to have her or from her brother literally dousing Cal’s nuts in lighter fluid and setting them alight.
As awful a prospect as any one of these possible outcomes was, none terrified him as much as the one inevitable consequence of taking this to its logical, balls-deep conclusion.
He’d miss talking to her. There would be no more of that if there was any more of this.
“Wow,” she said, licking her lips. “What was that for?”
For me. For you. For a memory I’ll return to in my lowest moments.
This had to end.
He said, “For luck.”
“For—for luck?” Her eyes went round and hurt. Better now, gorgeous girl.
“With your tryout.”
She withdrew, and he wished she’d done that before he put his lips to hers. Now he knew what she tasted like and that memory was going to fuel a few more sessions with his friendly neighborhood dick.
“Right.” She laughed nervously. Touched her lips, also nervously.
“And to prove that you don’t need those tricks to get this guy you’ve got your sights on.” Remind her of the ultimate goal.
“Okay. Gotcha.” She looked around, evidently in a daze from Hurricane Fucking Foreman. An unfulfilled lust hangover. “We should clean up.”
“Nah, I got it. You go, get ready for your flight tomorrow. I’ve got to get an early night as well.”
Awkwardly, she stepped back, her face riddled with confusion that he would regret to his dying day.
“Thanks for dinner.”
“Any time.”