"How is your head?" She pulled him down to inspect his eye. "No fever, blurred or double vision, severe eye pain, or trouble breathing through your nose?"
"None. It's a little achy but the ice will help."
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and her brows drew together. "No other symptoms?"
He knew what she meant. What she always meant when she asked that question. He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. "No other symptoms."
"I can't believe you got punched in the head."
"Only once." He'd meant to be reassuring, but the concern didn't leave her expression. "Come on, let's sit down."
She followed him into the room, toed off her shoes, and sat cross-legged on the side of the bed. "You should sleep propped up on extra pillows tonight. It'll help the swelling."
He piled three pillows one on top of the other, leaving the last one for her, and laid down, holding the ice pack in place. "Tonight's game was bad. We couldn't do anything right. Screwing up line changes, getting called for too many men on the ice, not reading plays correctly, and all the stupid penalties."
"I'm sorry you guys didn't win."
"I'm not going to lie, it stings right now but you need a short memory in the playoffs. You have to be able to put a loss behind you and move on. So tomorrow, we'll go to practice and get back to work. I'm not ready for this to be over yet. None of us have forgotten that we got knocked out of the playoffs in this round last year. Getting knocked out again isn't an option." He patted the space beside him. "You're too far away."
Smiling, she moved to his side, stretched out and shared his pillows. Her long hair pooled around her head like a halo. "It was sort of funny to see Leo, Vince, Slater, and you all stuck in the penalty box together at the end. It looked like there wasn't room for all of you."
"It was really cozy." A laugh huffed out as he thought of all of them stuffed in the small space. "Coach didn't think it was too funny but he understood. When I saw that idiot go after Rod... He didn't just go after my teammate or our best goalie, he went after my brother. That's not okay. I couldn't let that go. So we were fighting, and then somehow everyone on the ice jumped in."
"I understand why you did it, I just wish you hadn't been punched. I hate the thought of you being hurt." She laid her hand over his heart.
He closed his eyes, covered her hand with his, and soaked in her touch. "Having you here is a good start toward making me feel better."
They lay together for a few minutes, not speaking. Soon, she leaned over and peered at the alarm clock on the bedside table. "It's been more than ten minutes. You can take off the ice now."
He moved to set it on the table but she reached for it. "I'll put it back in the ice bucket."
Watching her move, a different ache built fast. Need was a vital, living thing.
She slipped back onto the mattress and brought her hand to cradle his jaw. Hazel eyes bright, she placed a delicate kiss on his injured skin.
Dylan breathed her in. He lifted his hand to the back of her head and urged her down to meet his lips. He groaned at the softness. The taste. The feel of her body brushing against his.
Desperate for more, he rolled to his side and brought them together torso to torso. His lips rubbed over hers, firm and demanding and staking a claim.
Blair made a soft sound and slid one hand under his shirt. Her nails grazed over the muscles in his back, sending a rush of blood straight to his cock. Her other hand tangled in his hair and she wrapped one leg over his hip, like she couldn't get close enough.
She was perfect. His. Deep in his bones, he knew it.
He released her hair and stroked a path down her back, over the dip in her waist, and up her torso to cup her breast. Desire pulsed in his blood. He eased her leg off of him and sat up.
"What's wrong?" She shifted to her knees.
He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it toward the chair by the window. "Nothing. Just getting more comfortable."
Blair's gaze roamed over his chest. "I like that idea."
She reached for the hem of her tank top. Dylan quickly got to his knees and laid his hand over hers. "Wait. I want to do it."
With a smile, she let her hands drop to her sides. "I'm all yours."
The words heated his blood and echoed his earlier thoughts. Inch by inch, he slid the tank top up, savoring the slow reveal. She lifted her arms so he could slip it off completely.
Her bra, the same color as her shirt, had a single tiny bow on the fabric between her breasts, like she was a present and she'd given herself to him to unwrap. He traced a finger over the thin scrap of satin.
She glanced down. "I guess you like the non-functional bow."
"It's very functional." He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to it and then higher to the hollow between her breasts. Blair's hands slid into his hair. Steeped in her scent, he trailed kisses over the swell of her breasts. As much as he liked the silk on her skin, he needed to see what was underneath. She reached behind her body and a moment later, the bra loosened. He tossed it aside. Blair arched toward him and Dylan cupped her breasts. He caressed her skin, making her sigh.
Kneeling on the blue bedspread with her long blonde hair streaming
