“I want to do away with the condoms. I want to f**k you bare—with nothing in between us.”
I let my words penetrate, offering nothing more. She has nothing to worry about from me. I’ve always worn a condom. I’ve also been tested every year in my routine physical, which is required by the Cold Fury. I’ll provide her that information but I want to see what her reaction is first.
Sutton’s eyes go wide in astonished wonder. I notice a stain of blush on her cheeks, and I start to think that maybe I’ve gone too far in my desire to possess her in a way that’s been different from all others. But then I notice the heat that seeps into those lovely hazel eyes and she licks at her bottom lip. She’d never be a poker player in the bedroom. I can see clearly that the idea turns her on.
“Okay,” she whispers, her legs subconsciously gripping against my h*ps a bit harder. “I’ve never been without a condom before. I mean…the pills are to regulate my period. I was on them long before I ever had sex for the first time.”
“I’ve always worn a condom before,” I assure her hastily. “And I’ve been tested. I can give you my records.”
Shaking her head immediately, she tightens her arms around my neck. “No, I trust you—”
“I don’t mind,” I interject.
Leaning in to kiss me, to silence me, she pulls back and looks at me deeply. “No…I trust you, Alex.”
Guilt flashes through me because maybe she shouldn’t. I’m completely telling her the truth about my sexual history and the fact I’m clean, but the fact that she trusts me so implicitly means her feelings are getting deep. Mine are too, but let’s face it—anything more than a scratch against the surface is practically subterranean for me.
I just hope she’s not falling in so far that I have the power to destroy her when my inherent nature takes over.
“Okay,” I tell her, rather than warning her away, because I want her too much in this very intimate way to listen to my own misgivings.
“Any other questions?” she asks cheekily.
Grinning at her, I rub my fingertips over her soft skin. “Nope. That satisfied my curiosity and has made me very eager to f**k you again.”
I start to lean in to kiss her, because damn, I want her bad. The thought of having no barrier between my hardness and her softness has my blood raging. But she pulls her head back a bit. “Well, then I have some curiosities of my own.”
I raise my eyebrows, quirking my lips upward. “Really? What might those be?”
“Have you ever had a serious relationship before? Been in love?”
I hold my smile but it dims a bit. “No. Never.”
“Not even in high school? Or whatever you call it in Canada?”
Chuckling, I reach down and pull her legs so they wrap around my waist, and she settles down onto my erection with nothing but the material of my shorts separating us. She squirms a little but waits for my answer.
Giving her a slight tilt of my h*ps so I rub against the heat between her legs, and just so she knows that I find that more interesting than this conversation, I tell her, “It’s called high school there too, and no—not even in high school.”
“You didn’t have a girlfriend in high school? A stud like you?” she teases, and in other circumstances, I would enjoy the joking nature of this conversation. But she’s hitting close to a subject that doesn’t produce warm memories for me.
“I was too busy training. My dad wasn’t big on me dating.”
Sutton’s mouth hangs open and her smile fades some, but I can tell she’s not certain exactly what I mean by that. “You weren’t allowed to date? Ever?”
“Never,” I confirm.
She pulls her lower lip in between her teeth and chews on it thoughtfully, which is always a sexy-as-fuck move. I contemplate leaning forward and grabbing it with my own teeth when she sidetracks me. “I remember reading online that you left home when you were sixteen to play in the Quebec Juniors. Surely then—”
Shaking my head, I cut her off. “I left home then, but my dad still controlled me. He forbade me from dating or having a relationship with someone. Hell, he forbade me to have any friends. Training was my number one priority. He wanted me to be the best and to do that, I had no room in my life for anything else.”
Sutton stares at me, her eyes doleful. It borders on the look of pity that I thought she had shown me before, which gets my hackles up a bit. “That’s terrible,” she says softly. “You didn’t have a childhood, did you?”
The sympathy in her voice completely kills my hard-on, and I find myself suddenly needing a bit of space. I easily lift her from my lap and set her down gently on the carpet beside me. Rolling to my feet, I busy myself with picking up the pizza box and paper plates from the table. Sutton follows suit and helps me clean up.
As I turn toward the kitchen, I attempt to alleviate the darkness of the moment by saying, “It was a long time ago. I’ve more than made up for the fun I missed out on back then.”
Following me into the kitchen, Sutton asks, “How? How do you make up for missing out on good times…having those memories?”
“Who says I don’t have good memories?” I ask, hoping to throw her off the scent of tragic circumstances.
Throwing the paper plates in the garbage, I turn to take the trash from Sutton’s hand and deposit it in the bin as well. She walks over to the sink and washes her hands.