Axel (Carolina Reapers 1) - Page 54

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She blinked as tears pooled in her eyes. “You left Sweden for me?”

“You know that. You might deny it and say it’s the millions or the hockey. But I’ve never cared about money as long as Tage and I had enough, and I’d be just as happy playing at home as I am here. What Charleston has that Sweden doesn’t, is you.”

“But you left Tage.” Her lips pursed, and her forehead wrinkled.

“And he knows how happy I am with you,” I whispered.

She shook her head. “You’ve lived your whole life raising him. Basically being his second dad.”

“I’d say Mom, too, but she was way prettier in a dress.” I lifted a corner of my lips, hoping the humor might earn me one of her smiles. “Langley, I don’t regret anything. I don’t believe in regrets, anyway. My parents died. I raised Tage, and it was an honor. He grew up. I finally was able to act on my feelings for you, and I did. The only part of any of that I would take back is losing my parents. The rest? It’s led me here, and any series of events that brings me to you, I’m okay with, including the contract that got my ring on your finger. I know how we started, but I also know that isn’t where we’re at now.”

She rose and pressed her mouth to mine, and when my lips parted, she took it deeper, sliding her tongue along mine. When her hands dug into my hair, I spun us, until her ass was on the desk. A quick movement and I had her thighs spread, her hips pressed against mine, and her head tilted back as I took over.

This right here was my world—my wife was all that mattered. I could win or lose out on that ice, but it all paled in comparison to the joy she brought with a single smile.

I tugged her harder against me and kissed her like there was nothing waiting outside that door for us. Her breath caught as I palmed her breast through her tailored jacket, finding her nipple hard even through the fabric.

Her heels dug into my ass, and I almost grinned. She was wearing the ones with the red bottoms that made her squeal when I’d given them to her a little over a week ago for our five-month anniversary.

That prim pencil skirt was hitched to her thighs, and when she pulled back from me, leaning on her palms, the button on her coat slipped, revealing her silk blouse. Her lips were kiss swollen, her eyes hazy with need, and her hair falling from the perfect little twist she kept it in. She looked like a debauched librarian, and I was more than ready to make payment for whatever books I had overdue. Holy fucking fantasy.

While I ogled, she leaned up, grabbed a hold of my tie, and tugged me toward her.

“I know you hate dressing up,” she said against my lips, “but I could thank God for the way you look in a tie.”

“Thank Coach.” I grinned, then leaned her back against the smooth, polished cherry of her desk top. Of course, it was impeccably clean and organized, just like my Langley.

I ground against her, already hard, and she answered with a hip thrust of her own, pushing back against me with a moan.

“Shhh,” I chastised her even as I kissed a path down her throat. “What if someone’s walking by?”

When she didn’t respond, I looked to see that her eyes had popped wide.

“You’ll have to be so very quiet,” I whispered as my hand crept up her silky thigh.

“Axel,” she hissed, conflicted as her gaze darted between the door and my hand.

My phone rang in my back pocket, and I slipped it free, then threw it over Langley’s head, where it slid to a stop somewhere before the end of her desk. Then I sent my fingers up until I reached the damp patch of the white lace she wore. I fucking loved that she never wore pantyhose. It was always so easy to get to her.

“Tell me no,” I ordered softly as I ran my fingers down the fabric.

She bucked against my hand and whimpered, but still, her eyes flew to the door and the noise of people walking by. This side of the house was always crowded after a game. “Axel…”

I reached beneath her thong and slipped two of my fingers into her swollen center. Her pussy contracted around me, and she cried out loudly enough for me to tsk at her. “All you have to say is stop, and I’ll stop,” I promised.

And I would. But I also was hoping she wouldn’t ask me to. Inch by inch, I dragged her out of her cleanly colored lines. I let her see that sex wasn’t only for the bedroom. Tenderness and affection weren’t reserved for privacy. Friendship wasn’t reserved for platonic relationships.


Tags: Samantha Whiskey Carolina Reapers Romance
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