Caged (Gold Hockey Book 11) by Elise Faber (romantic love story reading TXT) 📕

He pulled open the wooden panel. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, knowing his voice was raspy.

Her eyes went wide, and Ethan watched her throat work as she swallowed. “I—”

“You okay?”

Her gaze slid down, a heated, tangible thing that had him remembering he was only wearing boxer briefs. When her stare stayed down, he allowed his own gaze to drop, saw that he was sporting some intense morning wood, even more than normal considering the need for this woman that was a fire coursing through his veins.

“I—I’m—”

Warm hands on his chest.

Warm hands shoving him—not gently. He was so surprised, he stumbled back several paces, and then the door was slamming closed, and Dani was launching herself into his arms.

And her mouth was on his.

Flames bursting to life, coating his skin, burning him to ash.

A warm, curvy woman against him, her hands stroking every inch of him as she continued shoving him, forcing him to retreat . . . until the backs of his legs hit the bed.

He tumbled onto the mattress, his hands coming around her hips, drawing her over him, her thighs straddling his. “Ethan?” she murmured.

Her hands were on his skin, on his naked skin. Her pussy hot and damp even through his underwear and the black leggings she wore.

“Yeah?” he replied gruffly.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“No,” he admitted. “I’m not okay.”

She drifted closer. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m trying to remember that we’ve only gone on one date,” he said.

“And?” she asked, when he didn’t say anything else.

“And I’m trying to remember that, so I don’t strip you naked, flip us over, and get my mouth between those fucking gorgeous thighs of yours.”

Her breath shuddered out. Then she inhaled sharply. “Ethan?” she asked again on the next exhale.

“Yeah?” he said again.

“Do you really want to do that?”

He moved, an abrupt action that he seemingly had no control over, snagging her hand, tugging it down until it rested against the hard jut of his erection currently tenting the front of his underwear. “I’m fucking desperate to do that,” he said, groaning when her fingers convulsed. “But I also know that we’re just starting to get to know each other and—”

His words faltered.

Because she reared back and yanked her shirt over her head. Then reached behind her, unhooked her bra . . .

And let it fall to the floor.

“Yes, please,” she said.

“Y-yes”—he choked—“please?”

“Yes, I want you to take me, to strip me.” A beat, her lips turning up. “Well, the rest of me, and—”

Words failed him, but luckily action didn’t. He flipped them, slanted his mouth across hers, cutting her off, knowing that if she uttered another sexy request, he was very likely to come in his boxer briefs. Aware that if she kept talking, he was going to lose control and forget he didn’t have a fucking condom. Because she was topless and her breast were . . . fucking incredible, so much more glorious than he’d imagined—and he’d imagined a whole hell of a lot.

It would be so easy for him to lose his underwear, to yank off her leggings, and then he could be plunging home and—

Her lips found his, and they rolled on the mattress, his body pressing into hers, hers pressing into his, until eventually he managed to flip her again, to sink his body over hers, and even with their bottoms between them, it was the best fucking sensation of his life.

He trailed his hand along her side, and she threw her head back, the lines of her throat taut, the tendons in sharp relief, the slope calling to his mouth, and he heeded that call, dragging his lips along her skin, inhaling the scent of strawberries, tasting that sweetness on his tongue.

She moaned, gripped his shoulders, her nails digging in slightly when he reached the part where her neck met the slender curve of her collarbone.

Pausing, he spoke against the delicate divot. “You like that?”

Her eyes slid down, met his, and he expected her to shy away, to pull back, to do . . . something that wasn’t wrapping her legs around his waist, her hips undulating against him, her words and gaze steady when she murmured, “Yes, Ethan. I like that.” Her hand drifted up, cupped his jaw. “I—I—” She faltered for just a moment, and then he watched determination firm the gentle lines of her face. “I like you.”

His cock was hard, aching, but what he felt for this woman was more than just desire and need.

Or perhaps, it was need in a different way.

To just be with her. To understand all the little idiosyncrasies that made Dani Dani.

So much tenderness and curiosity and affection, and while he knew her in many ways already—he knew she was a woman a man kept, knew she was someone who he’d cut out his heart for—he also wanted to know all the little things about her. What made her laugh, what made her sad. The places she wanted to travel. The books that made her cry and long for more. He wanted to glean every tiny detail because she was utterly fascinating. And as much as he couldn’t wait until he knew all those parts of her, he was also looking forward to the journey, to the slow, incremental learning.

Which probably couldn’t happen if she was topless in his hotel bed, but . . .

She was topless. Beneath him. With only leggings and some underwear between them.

And she wanted his mouth on her.

So he’d know her that way before the rest of it.

“I like you, too,” he murmured. “Probably more than I should.” Given how short a time she’d been allowing him in to see the real Dani.

Her lips tipped up. “I don’t think you’re supposed to admit that to the woman you’re on top of.”

He bent, nipped at her bottom lip. “It’s better than liking you less than I should.”

Amusement had been glittering in her eyes, that mouth curved, but his words made her pause, just for a brief moment, the delight flattening out, turning