Chapter Nineteen

B urgess sat on the end of his bed, his hands clasped between his knees.

He stared at the door, begging it to open.

It wouldn’t, but a man could damn well hope, right?

His dick was heavy and hard in his jeans, like it always was the night after a victory. But he’d do what he always did and jerk off in the shower. This time, however, he’d be thinking of Tallulah in his sweatshirt on the sidelines. How he’d caught her in between the second and third period taking a long whiff of the collar. Did she like how he smelled?

Did she... like the game? What had she thought about his performance out there?

Did she notice that he’d lost a step, like everyone else in the hockey world?

His throat burned with the possibility.

Could this one woman see him as capable of anything? Ten years ago, he could have been her fucking superhero. Who could he be for her now?

Would she even want him to be someone to her?

Burgess pushed to his feet, his eyes watering over the pull of tendons in his back. He’d kept his end of the bargain with Tallulah and spoken to the team trainer, who’d given him some more powerful painkillers, but they’d worn off slowly throughout the game.

Just a strain. Just a strain. He repeated those reassuring words to himself on the way into the en suite bathroom where he undressed, removing the clothes he’d only donned an hour and a half ago, prior to the press conference, leaving them in a heap on the ground. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink, shaking his head at the sight of his swollen cock and trying to see himself through Tallulah’s eyes. Those silver hairs creeping into his sideburns, beard, and chest hair... were they a warning flag to her?

Stay away from this guy. He’s past his prime.

He’s none of the things you want. Spontaneous. Fun. Adventurous. Young.

Or was she curious about what his experience brought to the table?

Burgess’s eyes closed, his fist closing around his cock and beginning to stroke.

Yeah.

He liked that scenario better.

Tallulah was standing in front of him now, imaginary, of course.

Not a fucking stitch of clothing.

Show me what you know , she whispered, guiding his hand between her thighs.

“ Mhhhh ,” he grunted, already panting, his pulse loud in his ears. He wasn’t even going to make it to the shower. He’d bust right there in the sink—

He heard the very distinct creak of his bedroom door opening.

His hand froze, the fantasy bursting like a bubble.

“Burgess?”

Son of a bitch, that was Tallulah’s voice. She was in his bedroom? Why?

“Yeah?” he said, trying to make his voice sound natural and failing. Hard. He sounded like a buzz saw trying to break through metal. “Everything okay?”

Silence.

Three seconds. Four.

“Don’t you want your massage?”

Burgess bit down on his balled fist to stop himself from groaning. Or ejaculating.

Or both.

She was just following through on her promise.

He wouldn’t hope for more. Not until he knew for sure.

His movements were almost lethargic with lust as he whipped a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his waist, knotting it in a way that hid his affliction. Taking a deep breath, he opened the bathroom door, keeping his erection hidden behind the jamb as a backup plan.

When his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom, his flesh started to throb all the harder, so intense he almost couldn’t bear it. There she was, in his room.

In nothing but his sweatshirt.

“Tallulah, tell me exactly what you want,” he said thickly. “What are you here for?”

“Can we please just call it a massage and see what happens?” she whispered.

This was the difference between them. She could come to him without a game plan, carried by a whim or a momentary break from good decision-making. He wasn’t like that. He wanted to have their relationship spelled out. Wanted everything neatly defined, so he could sleep at night, secure in the fact that he had her all to himself.

If they went to bed together, would it be understood they were exclusive, even if she refused to say it out loud? Burgess didn’t have a clue and he wanted to push for clarity, but his discipline was wearing thin as fuck and he wouldn’t survive Tallulah running back to her room behind the locked door, so he bit his tongue.

His strategy wasn’t working. He’d have to try hers for a while.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rusted. “We’ll call it a massage.”

Relief seemed to trickle through Tallulah, her shoulders losing some of their tension. She nodded once, hesitated, then walked to the bed, climbing onto the high king-sized mattress on her hands and knees in a way that made his cock swell. The sweatshirt was so huge on her, he couldn’t see much of her body, but he could imagine the curve of her ass, the lithe flex of her thighs. How her panties would cup her between the legs. Jesus. He swallowed hard at the sight of her kneeling near the edge with her hands folded on her bent knees, in his sweatshirt , obviously waiting for him to come sit down in front of her. It felt like a dream. Only he knew it wasn’t, because of the pain weighing down his balls, the way his heart thunked in his throat.

Do you even know how to play it cool anymore?

God, he didn’t want his relationship with Tallulah to be casual, because nothing he felt for her was remotely fucking casual, he wasn’t going to turn down the chance... for whatever was about to happen here.

When it came to this one woman, he was losing the battle with his willpower.

But if she’d come for casual and he walked in there panting like a dog with his heart on his sleeve, she’d recognize they weren’t on the same page and put on the brakes. And she might never show up in his bedroom again. No, he’d let go of his need for transparency tonight in the hopes that whatever they did on that bed brought her back for more.

Burgess snagged a bottle of lotion from the bathroom vanity, then made his way slowly into the room, thanking God for the darkness that kept his secret. The low bathroom light spread across the bed, illuminating Tallulah partially, enough that he could see her lips part as he approached, her gaze stroking down his bare chest and stomach, her fingers curling into fists on her bent knees. That proof of her attraction gave Burgess some confidence, but not enough. Not as much as he used to have.

What if there were new ways to hook up that he didn’t even know about?

What if she needed to be touched a certain way, and he couldn’t read the signs?

Had he thought this through properly?

Calm down, man.

It’s a massage.

They were calling it a massage.

With a fist-sized object lodged in his throat, he turned and sat down in front of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life, handing her the bottle of lotion over his shoulder, before realizing that might be presumptuous. “You don’t have to use that...”

“No, I want to. It’ll make it better.”

Her hands were going to be on him. How much better could it get?

At the sound of her squeezing the bottle, he was forced to close his eyes, the anticipation of her touch was so severe. He focused on keeping his breathing deep and even, but if the lights were on, she would see the rapid-fire pulse at the base of his neck, the way his hands were clasped so tightly in between his knees there was no blood left in his knuckles.

The slippery sound of the lotion being warmed in her hands ceased—

And then, her hands were on him. In the center of his back, smoothing the lotion downward where his injury lurked, throbbing sharply like a bad tooth. She found it with the same precision as always, her thumb digging into the meat to the right of his spine and working around, around, causing a shuddering groan to escape his mouth.

“Good?”

“You have no idea,” he managed.

“How does the muscle feel?”

“It’s just a strain,” he evaded automatically.

She hummed a reproof. “Since you won, maybe I’ll let you get away with that tonight.”

A thank-you got stuck in his throat because oh fuck , her buried thumb felt so good. Maybe this was only going to be a massage. If so, he needed to stop thinking about turning around and nudging her backward on the bed, finding out if she’d come for more. Giving her more. Giving her everything he knew how to give.

Casual.

Stay casual.

“Speaking of our win tonight, I couldn’t help but notice you were heckling the ref like it was your job. Did we make a hockey fan out of you?”

“I’m claiming temporary insanity,” she sniffed. “That being said, I might have taken a tiny peek at the website for season ticket info.”

He chuckled into the darkness, but the sound dissolved into a hiss when she found a particularly sore spot just beneath his towel. “You don’t need season tickets, you’ve got me. Even when I, uh... even when I’m no longer playing, I’ll have standing tickets.”

She massaged him in silence for a moment. “Do you think that’ll be... soon?”

“Me not playing anymore?”

“Yes.”

He struggled through the uneasy feeling he got whenever the subject of retirement came up. It was more prevalent than usual because Tallulah was there. He wanted this woman to believe he was made of steel, but maybe that hope was as unrealistic as scoring another MVP trophy at thirty-seven. “Tonight... did it seem to you like it might be time for me to bow out?”

Gradually, her hands stopped moving.

Here it was. The moment she broke her opinion to him gently.

Burgess waited, tensed.

“Are you serious?” She sounded kind of stunned, as if the answer should be obvious. Oh shit, this was going to be worse than he thought. “You were... amazing out there. I don’t know anything about hockey, but I know the other team would have scored a bunch of goals if you weren’t standing in front of the goalie like a brick wall. No one got past you. I couldn’t...” He heard her swallow. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And not just because I know you. I genuinely couldn’t figure out how you were anticipating the other players so far in advance. It made me pity Lissa’s future significant others.”

Burgess couldn’t draw breath.

There was a fuzzy ripple passing through his ribs that he didn’t know how to handle.

“I mean...” He cleared his throat, resisting the urge to rub at the too-light sensation. “One person got past me. They scored a goal.”

“Oh wow.” The sarcasm was evident. “Your goalie had to do his job one measly time. He should be giving you half his salary.”

A crack of laughter got free. “Tallulah . . .”

He didn’t know what to do with his hands.

His arms crossed over his chest and dropped, the right one lifting to smooth his beard unnecessarily. “Okay. I... okay. It’s not your job to fix my ego.”

“Who damaged your ego in the first place?” Honestly, now she sounded kind of pissed? Burgess twisted around to look at her over his shoulder and yeah, he could confirm. She looked adorably miffed. His heart pounded harder. “Who, Burgess? Who did this to you?”

“I’ve lost a step. It’s common knowledge.”

“Well maybe you had a couple steps to spare!” she sputtered.

His heart pumped in a drawn-out beat. “What?”

“Maybe now everyone is a little closer to your level, but they’re not on it.” She was rubbing his shoulders almost angrily now. “Like I said, I might not be a sports enthusiast, especially when the sweatshirts are seventy-five dollars, but I have eyes.”

Maybe you had a couple steps to spare.

No amount of personal pep talks or coaching had given him as much insight into how his own brain worked as those eight off-the-cuff words. Because that not only made total sense to him, it was the one thing that made him feel... relaxed. Like maybe there wasn’t a guillotine waiting above his neck, poised to fall. For the first time, he wondered if maybe... he was being too hard on himself—and that was difficult to admit, because he made a living being hard on himself.

Right. That’s how he’d succeeded.

“Thank you. For saying that. But...” He gave a concise headshake. “I’m not going to start taking it easy on myself now, Tallulah.”

Again, her hands suspended in their treatment of his back.

Then they left him completely.

Goddammit, he’d spoken too harshly. Cut her off at the knees when she was just trying to help. What was wrong with him? He was in the act of formulating an apology when Tallulah slipped off the bed to his right, paused a moment, then slowly moved to stand in front of him. Close. Right there, in between his outstretched thighs.

He stopped breathing.

“Maybe if you won’t take it easy on yourself, you need someone to do it for you.”

Off came the sweatshirt.

Time stood fucking still as he registered the sight of her in nothing but a pair of black silky panties. As in, not a bra in sight. And he’d been more than aware that his au pair was hot as sin. Tallulah, though? The word “hot” didn’t begin to do justice to a body that could spoil a man fucking rotten. There wasn’t a dude alive that had done enough good in his lifetime to deserve the chance to touch her, but he’d make up for this shortage of goodwill later, because he was too busy staring at her sexy tits, all golden and sweet, like they wanted a bite taken out of them. It was almost painful to tear his attention away from them to memorize the rest of her, the nip of her waist, the flare of her hips and the snug fit of her underwear. Those thighs .

God, he wanted to be pumping his cock between them.

“You want to take it easy on me?” he hooked a finger in her panties and drew her closer. “I’m going to be honest, I don’t want to take it easy on you at all.”

Tallulah’s stomach hollowed on an intake of breath, her nipples turning to stiff buds right there in front of his eyes. He held his breath as her hands lifted...

And she slowly plowed all ten fingers through his hair.

That scrape of her nails on his scalp was better than any orgasm he’d had in recent memory. In need of an anchor, his hands gripped her hips and yanked her closer, his mouth releasing a shaky exhale between her tits.

“Why do you doubt yourself?” she asked, rubbing leisurely circles onto his head.

“I don’t know, I...” Her smooth, warm skin that smelled like oranges and basil. His tongue licked out involuntarily, wanting to taste those ingredients, whatever components made her up, made her this perfect, but mostly, that lick clued him in to how hard her heart was pounding. As hard as his own. Holy shit. “The divorce made me realize how flawed I am. It also made me realize how quickly the things I rely on can... go away. So I held on tighter to hockey, but the look in the mirror has me noticing flaws everywhere. On the ice. Off. I’m constantly looking for signs that my career is over.”

“It’s not.” Her thumbs traced the shells of his ears, massaging the lobes, and he wondered how long he could survive her touch without melting like hot candlewax. “And everyone has flaws, but they’re outweighed by your strengths. Your many...” She tugged his hair slowly. “Wonderful.” She wound the strands around her fingers, turning him to fucking putty in her hands. “Strengths.”

“Thank you,” he said, more than a little shaken.

“You’re welcome,” she murmured back, their eye contact making his throat ache.

What is this happening between us?

Burgess was burning to ask. To demand.

But he was starved. Fucking starved . And if she ran away right now, he’d collapse under the weight of unsatisfied hunger. So instead, even though it ate him up inside, he asked, “What do you want from me tonight, gorgeous?”

Those nails scraped him again and his vision wavered, pleasure stiffening the muscles of his abdomen, the sac between his legs growing unbearably heavy. Then she leaned down and kissed him without any restraint, her mouth open and wet, moving over his in a way that made his hand itch to reach beneath his towel. To choke his cock in a tight grip and stroke one out with her delicious mouth as inspiration.

They broke for air, both panting, his palms tracing the valleys of her sides eagerly, moving inward to knead her firm tits. Their foreheads met, eyes searching and his were no doubt swimming with lust, because that’s what dominated him. Painful, sharp-toothed lust. And fuck it, maybe some vulnerability, thanks to him being totally and completely overwhelmed by the fact that this woman thought he was still great, couldn’t take her eyes off him, touched him like he didn’t need a single improvement.

A second before they could dive back into another kiss, she whispered against his mouth, “You can give me what I need tonight... by taking.”

She went down on her knees.

And his eyes went fucking blind.

T allulah looked at the white flap of the towel in front of her, wondering how she’d missed the gigantic erection pressing up against the knotted fabric, lifting the cloth at an angle. She definitely hadn’t missed the lord-have-mercy thighs that had started tensing up the moment she got on her knees. Or that ripped-up stomach. Or the giant mitts that were already holding on to the comforter for dear life.

“Tallulah, please.”

“Please, what?”

“I don’t fucking know, just please.”

Sparkly little prickles danced down the slopes of her shoulders, pushing into her fingertips, the flesh inside of her panties damp and swollen with the excitement of what she’d decided to do. He’d asked what she needed from him tonight—and yeah, she’d been a little caught off guard by the answer, too. But this man...

This man . She really, really wanted to know what he tasted like. How he’d react to flicks of her tongue and draws of her lips. If he would gasp or groan or if he’d fist her hair and push himself deep. She was practically salivating for salt and weight and the flood of pleasure in her mouth. Like, she wanted it now. Now.

What far outweighed her yen for his body, though, was a more complicated truth.

She was dying to make him feel incredible.

She wanted him to know he was powerful and amazing.

Which was not her job, of course, but...

She wasn’t sure he knew his own might. In fact, he’d just revealed that quite a few cracks existed beneath his confident facade, and she was compelled to help fill them in. A blow job wasn’t the only way to do that—and dear God, she was about to complicate their relationship by a trillion percent, but in the dark of the bedroom, in the quiet midnight hour, when they were both dressed in very little clothing, tomorrow was an eon away.

Tallulah couldn’t slow down her intakes of breath as she unknotted the towel around Burgess’s waist and... she didn’t even get the chance to toss it aside, because her hand quite literally dropped it over the first look at Burgess’s sex. Without the burden of the towel, it swelled up toward his belly and stayed there, thick and broad and full. So full. Frustrated.

She walked forward on her knees and slowly wrapped him in her fist, watching his face as she stroked him up, down, up... and oh. God. Kneeling in front of this man was like kneeling in front of a king to pledge fealty, his thighs were so muscular, his chest heaving and beginning to perspire, his body in general so much bigger than hers. Bold. Striking. Strong.

“Please,” he gritted out. “Fuck. Only for a minute.”

Unable to wait a second longer, she leaned in and licked up the smooth, veiny side of his shaft, noting the way his thighs shuddered when she swirled her tongue around the bulbous tip. “Why only a minute?”

“My come will end up in your throat, Tallulah. That’s why.” His face screwed up, in obvious pain, but he didn’t take his eyes off her. “Ah Jesus, stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He settled a hand on the top of her head, a sign of surrender, his body leaning back slightly to give her better access. “Like you’ve been dreaming about putting that beautiful face in my lap.”

Slowly, she teased her tongue side to side in his slit. “I have.”

“Goddamn. Me too. That’s why you need to stop.” His head fell back on a closed mouth moan. “Please, I’m barely holding on and you haven’t even sucked it yet.”

“Do you want me to?” she whispered, kissing the head. Lathing it with her tongue.

His stomach heaved up and down twice. “Yes,” he said through his teeth. “Just a couple of times. Hard and deep. Give me something to think about on the road while I’m beating off in my hotel room.”

In response to that guttural request, her clit throbbed. Insistently. It had been sensitive in her panties the entire time she was giving him the back massage, but now... ohhh. She couldn’t keep her right hand from dropping, rubbing the wet spot that had seeped through her panties. She closed her eyes and pictured Burgess naked in his hotel room bed, his fist slicking up and down his hard inches, his teeth buried in his lower lip, heels digging into the bed. The image turned her on so completely that she wasn’t even aware of how hard she’d started pulling on the stiff flesh in her mouth. Her left hand held him steady, her thumb sweeping up and down the underside where that vein lurked, throbbing so tellingly, while her mouth drew him in, in, in, to the back of her throat, moaning as she kept him there, then slowly releasing him, relishing the pop of him as he left the sanctuary of her lips.

“Motherfucker, that’s so good.” His fingers were tunneling in her hair now, his hips giving punctuated upward thrusts—and she loved him like this. Big, cocky royalty. “I can take one or two more just like that... fuuuuuck .”

“Why?” she whispered, lapping at him, her hand moving in quick strokes, marveling at the size and inflexibility of him. The firm set of his balls that lifted slightly and dropped down every time she pumped her fist. “Why stop at two?”

“You’re not leaving my bedroom unsatisfied, Tallulah. If you think I’d let that happen, you haven’t been paying attention.”

She tilted her hips up, so he could see her fingers massaging circles into the front of her panties. “I can satisfy myself. I just wanted this to be about you.”

His thumb brushed the curve of her cheekbone. “Satisfying you is for both of us.”

For some reason, that made her throat feel momentarily crowded and she panicked a little, because she’d run the gamut of feelings for this man tonight. Awe, protectiveness, lust. Now there was gratitude, connection... and she was scared to add more. Scared where it would lead, so she brought his shaft to the back of her throat again, again, again, continuing even when she choked on him and his fist started to shake in her hair.

“Tallulah, no. No, no, no. Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck me. ” He had her head in both of his hands now, guiding her down for big swallows of his sex, the strength of him on full display in every rough flex of his hip abductors and chest and biceps. “Fine, you want to swallow me? Swallow me, girl. You don’t get to spit after taking me to the balls. God, I love this pretty mouth. Tell me it was made for me.”

“Made for you,” she gasped, before he pumped deep one final time, his entire body simply breaking, shattering, shaking violently, his muscles flexing and releasing in bunched-up patterns while salty moisture found her throat, her grip continuing to stroke more of him free, home to her where it belonged. Yes, that’s how it felt. Like taking some part of Burgess inside of her was long overdue, and she moaned, drawing until her cheeks hollowed, begging with her eyes for every single ounce.

The power of his finish was so intense that when his fingers released her hair just slightly, she pitched back onto her butt, gulping down oxygen like she’d just surfaced from the bottom of Boston Harbor. What in the sweet hell? The room was... spinning.

She’d only meant to give him a blow job and let him know she found him wonderful. Now she felt emotional. Like she wanted to be in his arms. And her body was overwhelmed by the height of its own arousal, so much higher than it had ever been. So high that she was almost afraid to reach for it, because it would set the bar too high. Or rip her chest wide open.

Not knowing what else to do but retreat, Tallulah scrambled to her feet and bolted for the door, forgetting the sweatshirt. She forgot her own name , really, but before she could actually turn the doorknob, Burgess was standing behind her, planting a hand on the door and closing it with a firm click. His exhale bathed her ear, his mouth latching onto the sensitive skin that connected her shoulder to her neck, and slowly, slowly he pinned her to the door.

“What happened?” His breath continued to come fast. “Did I fucking hurt you?”

She shook her head adamantly. “No.”

“Thank Christ.” He kissed a path into her hair, his hand finding her breasts and kneading them each once, before skating his knuckles down the shuddering plane of her belly. “Is the ache so bad you don’t know what to do about it?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, flooded with alarm and relief in equal measure. How did he know?

“That’s okay, gorgeous. I know what to do.” He fingertips lingered at the waistband of her panties. “Are you going to let me?”

She nodded, whispering, “Please.”

Holy shit. Her knees were shaking, her breath wheezing in and out, but she felt gathered together, secure even in the storm, when his body pressed the front of hers tight to the door, mouth busy on her neck while he yanked down her panties to midthigh and...

And slowly delved two fingers inside of her. Deep, deeper still until she gasped, compelled to rise up onto her toes, curving her butt into his lap and seeing nothing, nothing but stars, hearing only the rush in her ears as he fingered her roughly, the heel of his hand pressing and rubbing her clit every few pumps until she was openmouthed and clawing at the door... and then, as if he knew she was getting close, he focused in on her clit and exploited the sensitivity with three finger pads, rubbing so fast that she couldn’t have matched him for speed. Not even with her own fingers, her own body.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. ”

“What happens in my room?”

“I . . . I . . . what?”

“This is where you come to be fed, Tallulah.” His magical fingers picked up the pace that much more and she whimpered, squeezing her thighs around his hand. “Nowhere else and no exceptions. I tend to you. Especially after you get on your knees and suck my cock raw.”

It was the grind in his voice, the explicitness of his words and the sudden pressure of his three fingers back inside of her that caused release to wreck her, mind, body, and soul. She went somewhere. Somewhere beautiful and gleaming and made of rainbows while she shuddered and orgasmed between Burgess’s barrier of a body and the door. Sobs broke and broke and broke past her lips, her legs quaking, hands slapping and twisting against the door, immense relief coursing through her, muscles contracting almost in shock.

As soon as it was over, she collapsed, Burgess catching her on the way to the floor, looking down at her in his arms for several beats with an expression of pure animal pride, before carrying her to the bed, tugging up her panties and smoothing them—a little unnecessarily—over the mound of her sex. Getting in beside her, he lay down, drew her into the warmth of his giant body, and made a gruff sound that found its target in her chest.

I’m screwed.

That was her final thought before passing clean out.