“John,” she moaned. “I want to touch you.”
He loosened his grasp and moved to suckle her right breast. He was ready. He’d been ready for months. The ache in his groin urged him to shove her against the wall, pull her dress up to her waist, and bury himself deep inside her hot, wet body. Now.
She freed her arms from the tangle of straps and pulled his shirttails from his pants. John straightened and looked into her drowsy eyes. Before he could give in to his urge and take her right there by her front door, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the rear of the house. “Where’s your bedroom?” he asked as he moved down the hall. “I know there’s one here somewhere.”
“Last door on the left.”
John entered the room and stopped dead in his tracks. The bed had a floral quilt and a lace canopy. A half dozen or so frilly pillows were tossed against the headboard. Flowers were printed on the wallpaper and on the fabric of the chairs. A big floral wreath hung above one dresser, and two vases of flowers sat about the room. He’d just stepped into girly central.
Georgeanne walked past him, holding her dress to her breasts. “What’s wrong?”
He looked at her, standing there surrounded by flowers, attempting to shield herself with her hands, and failing miserably. “Nothing, except you’re still dressed.”
“So are you.”
He smiled and stepped out of his shoes. “Not for long.” Within seconds he’d stripped down to nothing, and when he returned his gaze to Georgeanne, he nearly exploded. She stood just beyond his reach, in nothing but a pair of skimpy panties and two stockings secured at her thighs with pink garters. His gaze moved from the enticing expanse of thigh just above the garters to her full hips. Her breasts were beautiful and round, her shoulders smooth, her face gorgeous. He reached for her and pulled her against him. She was hot and soft and everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. He meant to go slow. He wanted to make love to her, to prolong their pleasure. But he couldn’t. He felt like a kid running toward his favorite playground, unable to stop; the only thing holding him back was his own indecision over where to play first. He wanted her mouth, shoulder, and breasts. He wanted to kiss her belly, thighs, between her legs.
He pushed her onto the bed, then rolled with her on top. He kissed her mouth and slid his hands down her back to her behind. He wrapped his fist in her panties and yanked them down her legs. His erection pressed into her smooth stomach and he ground it against her. The tension in his groin pulled tighter, tighter, until he thought he might explode.
He wanted to wait. He wanted to make sure she was ready. He wanted to be a tender lover. He rolled her onto her back and forced her panties from her legs. He sat back on his heels and looked at her, naked except for a pair of nylons and two garters. She raised her arms to him, and he knew he couldn’t wait. He covered her with his body, hips cradled between her smooth thighs, and he placed his palms on both sides of her face. “I love you, Georgeanne,” he whispered as he looked into her green eyes. “Tell me you love me.”
She moaned and slid her hands down his sides to his buttocks. “I love you, John. I’ve always loved you.”
He plunged deep inside her and realized immediately he’d forgotten a condom. For the first time in years, he felt enveloped in hot fluid flesh. Desperately he fought for control while the need for her clawed at his gut. He pulled back, thrust again, and they both shattered in a reeling climax.
It was three in the morning before John slipped from her bed and began to dress. Georgeanne secured the sheet around her breasts and sat up to watch him button his pants. He was leaving. She knew he didn’t have a choice. Neither of them wanted Lexie to know he’d spent the night. Still, her heart ached at his leaving. He’d told her he loved her. He’d told her many times. It was still a little hard to believe. Hard for her to trust the joy she felt deep inside.
He reached for his shirt and shoved his arms into the sleeves. Tears stung the backs of her eyes and she blinked them back. She wanted to ask him if she would see him again the next evening, but she didn’t want to appear grasping and greedy.
“You probably won’t want to go to the arena early,” he said, referring to the hockey tickets he’d given her earlier. “Lexie will have a hard enough time sitting through the game, without getting there for the early stuff.” He sat on the edge of the bed and put on his socks and shoes. “Dress warm.” When he was finished, he stood and reached for her. He pulled her onto her knees and kissed her. “I love you, Georgeanne.”
She didn’t think she would ever tire of hearing him say those words to her. “I love you, too.”
“I’ll see you after the game,” he said, and dropped one last kiss on her lips. Then he was gone, leaving her alone with Virgil’s warning plaguing her brain and threatening to destroy her happiness.
John loved her. She loved him. Did he love her enough to give up his hockey team? How could she live with herself if he did?
Blue and green floodlights circled the ice like a swirling cauldron while a half-dozen scantily clad cheerleaders danced to ear-popping rock music pumped from the sound system at the Key Arena. Georgeanne could feel the heavy bass thud in her chest and wondered how Ernie was doing. She looked over the top of Lexie-who had her hands over her ears- to John’s grandfather. He didn’t seem at all bothered by the loud noise.
Ernie Maxwell looked almost the same as he had seven years ago, with his thin white crew cut and gravelly Burgess Meredith voice. The only real difference was that now his blue eyes looked out from behind a pair of black- rimmed glasses, and he had a hearing aid in his left ear.
When Georgeanne and Lexie had first found their seats, she’d been surprised to see him waiting for them. She hadn’t known what to expect from John’s grandfather, but he’d quickly put her at ease.
“Hello, Georgeanne. You look even more beautiful than I remember,” he’d said as he’d helped her and Lexie out of their jackets.
“And you, Mr. Maxwell, are twice as handsome as I remember,” she’d declared through one of her most charming smiles.
He’d laughed. “I always did like a southern gal.”
Suddenly the music stopped and the arena lights were extinguished, except for the two enormous Chinooks logos illuminated at each end of the ice.
“Ladies and gentleman, the Seattle Chinooks,” a male voice boomed from the speakers on the huge video Scoreboard. The fans went crazy, and amidst the screams and cheers, the home team skated onto the ice. Their white jerseys appeared stark in the darkness. From her position several rows above the blue line, her gaze scanned the back of each jersey until she found the name Kowalsky printed in blue above the number eleven. Her heart fluttered with pride and love. That big man with the white helmet stuck low on his forehead belonged to her. It was so new and she was having a hard time believing he loved her. She hadn’t talked to him since he’d kissed her goodbye, and since then, she’d experienced horrible moments when she’d feared she’d dreamed the night before.
Even from a distance she could see that he wore pads on his shoulders and beneath the ribbed socks that covered his legs and disappeared beneath his shorts. He held a hockey stick in the big padded gloves on his hands. He looked as impenetrable as the name he’d been given, as solid as a wall.
The Chinooks sailed from goalpost to goalpost, then finally stopped in a straight line in the middle. The lights came up, and the Phoenix Coyotes were announced. But when they skated out onto the ice, they were greeted by an arena filled with booing Chinooks fans. Georgeanne felt so bad for the other team, if she hadn’t feared for her safety, she might have cheered.
Five players from each team stayed out on the ice and took their positions. John slid into the center face-off circle, put his stick on the ice, and waited.
“Kick some ass, boys,” Ernie yelled as soon as the puck was dropped and the battle began.
“Grandpa Ernie!” Lexie gasped. “You said a bad word.”
Ernie either didn’t hear or chose to ignore Lexie’s admonition.
“Are you cold?” Georgeanne asked Lexie over the noise of the crowd. They’d dressed for winter in white cotton turtlenecks, jeans, and wool-lined ankle boots.
Lexie kept her eyes glued to the ice and shook her head. She pointed to John, speeding down the ice toward
