Center Ice (Boston Rebels Book 1)

“You can’t keep showing up at my office like this,” I say as Drew shuts and locks the door behind him.

“Do you actually mind?” He crosses the room in a few long strides, and I take a step back but run into the cabinet behind me. His fingers are already trailing beneath the hem of my dress, and he leans down and peppers kisses along the bridge of my nose. “Because I swear you sent me a text saying you hadn’t stopped thinking about having sex with me since our phone call this past weekend. And it seemed like stopping by this afternoon, while Graham is at school and Jules is on a job site, meant we might have some privacy.”

His hair is damp, and I assume he took a quick shower and headed here right after his post-practice workout. It was his first full practice since getting sick, and I wonder if he’s exhausted. It definitely took me a few days to feel back to normal, and I wasn’t trying to power through grueling workouts.

“I have to leave to pick up Graham in an hour,” I tell him, wishing kindergarten didn’t get out a full hour earlier than the rest of his elementary school. “I have so much work I was supposed to do between now and then.”

He leans in, resting his hand against the wall behind me so that I’m completely wedged between him and the cabinet. His proximity has my nipples hardening, and the way they’re pressing into my lace bra is sending heat shooting through me straight to my core. I press my thighs together to alleviate the ache between them.

“I don’t have to stay if you don’t want me to,” he says.

Memories of our video call flood my senses and overwhelm all logic until I’m incapable of making good decisions. Or maybe having sex with Drew is a good decision?

He steps forward, his whole body pressed against mine so that my nipples drag along his rock-hard chest. “But if I leave now, I’m afraid you’ll be so distracted imagining what could have happened if I’d stayed, that you probably wouldn’t get any work done anyway.” His voice is low and cajoling in my ear, and the fact that it’s been three days since our call and since my last orgasm has me needing him badly. “So I’m probably doing you a favor by staying.”

My chest shakes with laughter, but that only has my breasts heaving against him, and as a result, Drew’s lips part as he hums his approval. Then he slides his hands along the backs of my thighs and lifts me onto the cabinet so I’m sitting with my legs spread on either side of him. He steps in closer and grips my ass, pulling me forward and lining my center up along his truly impressive dick, every inch of which I can feel through his gray sweatpants.

“You’re probably right,” I say, my voice teasing as I tip my weight back onto my tailbone so my center runs along the length of him. “How would I ever be able to focus after seeing you for five seconds?”

“Such a fucking smartass,” he says, a smile playing on his lips. “I can leave if you’d prefer.”

I wouldn’t. But I should probably tell him to go, anyway. Nothing good is going to come of letting my hormones carry me away. Except orgasms…they’re good.

“You’re literally panting in my ear,” he says, tilting his chin toward me and trailing hot kisses up the side of my neck. I can feel the way he smiles against my jaw when the resulting sigh escapes my lips. “So, you want me to stay?”

“Drew, I really do need to finish some changes to the plans I’m working on.” I know that’s the smart decision, the responsible thing to do. But my body doesn’t seem to be listening, because my hand plants itself on the countertop behind me so that my back arches and my breasts run along his chest again.

The groan he releases into the crook of my neck before he pulls back lets me know that he disagrees. But he’s respecting my boundaries, and that might be the biggest turn-on yet. It spurs me on even when I know I shouldn’t let this go any further. But I ignore those doubts, instead linking my feet together behind his legs before he can step away, then lifting my free arm and wrapping it around his neck, pulling him back to me.

“It seems like maybe you should give me at least one orgasm, you know, for the inconvenience of interrupting my work.”

He rests his forehead against mine. “For the inconvenience, of course.”

“And maybe, if I’m feeling generous, I’ll even return the favor.”

“If you’re feeling generous, you can let me fuck you like I’ve been literally dreaming about for the last three nights. I’ve been walking around with a perpetual hard-on since I watched you slip your fingers into yourself.”

Heat flashes through my skin, thawing me completely. It seems I can only ice him out for so long before I become a complete puddle in his presence.

“That sounds like a you problem,” I tease.

“I think it’s actually a you problem,” he says, “because I’ve never been this way around anyone else.”

His lips meet mine gently, but this isn’t the time for gentle. I stretch up into him, taking his lower lip between mine and nipping at it, which has him opening his mouth. Our tongues tangle and his hands roam down to the hem of my dress as he slides it up my legs. I’m so focused on the kiss, on the way that his fingertips are grazing the outside of my thighs, that the sound of leaf blowers on the street level outside the office barely registers—until a small rock comes flying at the glass. The loud crack has us jumping apart, and Drew looks like we just heard a gunshot.

“It’s just a rock,” I say, and nod my chin to where we can see the work boots and jeans of the men working for the landscaping company, who are doing their weekly maintenance on the small area along the front of our brownstone.

“I don’t love that you work down here by yourself with an entire wall of glass,” he says, looking back at me. “It doesn’t seem safe.”

“It’s actually glass-clad polycarbonate,” I tell him. “Otherwise known as bullet-proof glass. Trust me, I don’t want anyone breaking in here, either.”

“Alright,” he says, stepping back between my legs. “Though I’d prefer if it were one-way glass so you could see out and no one could see in. I want you naked right here, right now. I want to spread you out on that table and feast on your pussy, then watch your body bounce as I fuck you like you want me to. But there are”—he glances back at the glass entryway—“at least three guys out there.”

“From the sidewalk, you can only see the first foot or two into this room,” I tell him. But right as I say it, one of the workers comes down three of the concrete steps toward the basement. We can only see the back of him as he blows leaves toward the street, but if he turned around, he’d be able to see pretty far into this space.

Drew follows my gaze, then raises his eyebrow. “Where can we go so I can get you naked?”

His words have me rubbing myself against his hard length because I’m desperate for how I know he can make me feel. I glance toward the door at the back of the office that leads to the playroom, thinking that although that would be completely out of view, it’s probably not the best choice. Instead, I lead him across the room toward the stairs—the site of my dropped salad the last time he stopped by—because they’re tucked behind the entry closet and you can’t see the space from the front windows.

As we walk, he threads his fingers through mine and gives me a squeeze. “What if Jules comes back?”

“She’s actually going to be late tonight. I was going to text you and ask if you minded if I bring Graham with me to your mom’s later this afternoon when I come over to measure. Jules will have to see the space another time.”

“Of course. I’d love for my mom to meet him.”

I stop, and he runs into the back of me. “But…we’re not going to say anything yet, right? I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“We can do this on your time frame, Audrey. I’m fine with her getting to know Graham, and then us telling her later, once you’re ready.”

I look up at him, and I’m sure he can see the relief in my eyes. “You sure?”

He kisses the top of my head. “Positive.”

When we hit the landing of the stairs and are out of view of the street, he turns me so my back is against the wall and pushes up against me. “Alright, we’re hidden. I’m going to need that dress off. Now.” His voice is hard, but needy.

I raise an eyebrow. “Then maybe you should ask nicely.”

He steps back and tilts his head down so he’s looking me in the eye. “Audrey, please take your dress off before I rip it to fucking shreds. I’d hate to ruin it, but I will if I have to.”

I bite my lower lip but can’t keep my smile in. As I shake my head at him, I find the top button at the front of my dress. I’d chosen this one because I knew I was seeing him later and meeting his mom, and I get compliments every time I wear it.

“It really would be a shame to ruin this one, so I guess I’ll just have to take it off.”

“Good choice,” he growls as he stands there, watching me make quick work of the buttons down the front of the dress. The crepe floral material slides to either side of my breasts as I undo the buttons near the waist, and Drew’s sharp intake of breath as he sees my lace bralette is louder than the leaf blowers outside. I glance down at where his dick is straining against those sweatpants, making an enormous tent.

“Like what you see?” There’s amusement in his voice, so I look back up at him.

“Eh.” I shrug as I lower my arms and let the dress fall off my shoulders and down my arms, then I slide it over my hips and let it pool at my feet. “I guess it’ll be sufficient.”

He gives me a full-out smile. “Oh princess, this is going to be so much more than sufficient.”

“We’ll see.” I wink so he knows I’m teasing, but it’s possible he misses the gesture as he tears his Rebels hoodie and t-shirt over his head in one movement. His body is a chiseled work of perfection, and I try not to be self-conscious about my own body as I look at his.

He’s an athlete. It’s his job to be in the best shape he possibly can be. I’m a mom who hardly has time to take care of my own basic needs, much less spend the time it would take to get back into shape. Unless you count my weekly pole dancing class, which has definitely helped.

He reaches out and takes my chin in his hand, tilting my head back and locking his eyes on mine. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“That thing where you look at my body and then think yours is anything less than perfect.”

“Are you a fucking mind reader?” I try to laugh it off.

“Your face said it all.”

“Drew, you could have any girl you want and most of them would have much better bodies than mine. So you’re just going to have to accept that I’m a little insecure about this.”

“I’m not, actually, going to have to accept that. Because you’re perfect exactly how you are, and like I told you on the phone, I haven’t so much as looked at another woman since I saw you again. Nor do I plan on looking at another woman any time in the future.” He tightens his grip on my chin when I try to look away, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Take my pants off.”

“W-what?” I fumble the word.

“Take my pants off. I want you to see for yourself what you do to me.”

I glance down at his sweats, and I can see exactly what I do to him. When I hook my thumbs in the waistband, Drew lets out a breath that sounds more like a hiss. I glance up at him, and he just raises his eyebrows like he’s challenging me.

“What if I don’t want to take your pants off?”

“Then we can stop this right here. We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable. In fact, I don’t want to do this if you’re not comfortable. But I love the way your body looks, and I want you to love it too.”

“You can’t make me love my body, Drew,” I tell him. “My feelings and opinions about it are my own.”

“True, but I can tell you what I love about it,” he says, reaching out to cup my breasts in his hands. My nipples strain against the sheer fabric, and a moan rips from the back of my throat when he sweeps his thumbs across them. “I love the way your body is eager for mine. I love your absolutely perfect rack.” He slides his hands down so his palms skim across my stomach as his fingertips grip the edge of my back possessively. “I love how soft your skin is, how your waist nips in here, but how your hips and ass are curvy in all the right ways. Men literally write songs about women with asses like yours.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about—my hips and ass are not proportional to the rest of my body.

He drops down to his knees, running his fingertips down the length of my legs. “I love how strong your legs are. Why are your muscles so defined in your legs?” He trails his fingertips along the back of my legs, tracing the edges of my calf muscles.

“I dance once a week.” I obviously don’t think before saying this.

“What kind of dancing?” he asks, looking up at me, and I can feel the heat creeping from my chest up my neck.

“Oh, you know,” I say, rolling my eyes and brushing off the question.

He stands quickly, stepping close enough that my breasts brush his chest. “No, I don’t know. But you seem embarrassed that I asked, which has me even more curious.”

I press my lips between my teeth, cursing myself for not just saying I was taking a ballet or a jazz class. Now I can’t backtrack to one of those answers or he’ll know I’m lying.

“Never mind about the dance classes, Drew,” I say, and hook my thumbs back into the waist of his sweatpants, hoping I can distract him by taking his clothes off.

Instead, he presses each of his hands over mine. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s embarrassing. Please, drop it.”

“I have a feeling that whatever you think is embarrassing, I’ll think is insanely hot. So you should probably test that theory out and see if I’m right.”

If I ask him again to drop it, I know he will. Part of me wants to know how he’d react, but I’m not sure I’m brave enough to find out.

“Right now”—I reach out to stroke him through his sweats, and his hips instinctually tilt up, thrusting him into my hand—“the only theory I really want to test is whether the sex will be as good as I remember.”