I kick off my shoes and head down the hall. There are a couple of interesting pieces of art on his walls. Not stock pictures bought from some home-decor store but real art, possibly from someone local. I like that idea.

I keep going, though, determined now that I’m here and in his space once again. When I reach the living room, I run my hand along the back of the leather sectional couch. Memories from that night—new ones I’d forgotten until now—surface.

We’d kissed our way down the hall and bumped into the couch, and I’d ended up sitting on the back of it, my legs wrapped around King’s waist. I shrug out of my jacket, toss it over the arm, and hop up onto the back of it now, exactly as I’d been then.

Kingston’s hands are still shoved in his pockets, and he rocks back on his heels. “You’re sure you don’t want to go out for dinner? It’s a nice place. I haven’t taken you there before, and it’s a favorite of mine.” His throat bobs with another nervous swallow, and his gaze stays fixed on my legs as I cross them.

“Why don’t you want to be alone with me?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not that I don’t want to be alone with you.”

“But . . .”

His tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip. “I’m trying to date you.”

“We’ve been out four times in the past two weeks, and that’s with your insane schedule and all the travel. We also see each other pretty much daily. I think that all qualifies as dating, and it still doesn’t explain why you look like a caged rabbit right now.”

“I want to be a good boyfriend.”

“You are a good boyfriend.” He’s a great boyfriend. The best I’ve ever had. Almost too good to be true, really.

He looks at his feet, and the tips of his ears go red. “I’m trying to keep myself in check when I’m with you, but it’s hard when we’re alone.”

“Why would you want to keep yourself in check?”

He blows out a breath. “I want to show you that I appreciate more than your body.”

“I think you’ve covered that base pretty well with the whole asking my dad permission to date me, taking me out for dinner multiple times, and spending money on me without expecting a blow job at the end of the night.”

“Can we not talk about that?”

“About what?”

He motions to his crotch. Up until now I haven’t paid attention to it, but I sure am now. Kingston is hard. Rock hard, if I had to guess, considering I can see the outline of the ridge at the head, pushing up against his khakis.

“It doesn’t look like you want me to stop talking about it.”

“I’m struggling right now, and you’re not making it any easier, Queenie.” He’s almost . . . snippy. Which is new.

I can see it in the tic of his jaw and the way his fingers twitch at his sides. He’s right on the edge, and I intend to push him over so I can experience his glorious free fall.

“Tell me what you’re struggling with.” I crook a finger, beckoning him. “Maybe I can help.”

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, shuffles forward a step, and mumbles, “Control.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too widely. It really is commendable how hard he’s trying to behave. I’m not sure exactly why he feels compelled to stay stalled out at second base for so long, but I’m pretty sure I can fix that problem.

I slide a single finger up my thigh, bunching the material.

Kingston follows the movement. When I’m an inch away from revealing the color of my underwear, I pause. “Why do you feel like you need to stay in control?”

He licks his lips, his hot gaze shifting up to mine. “Because the last time you were here I ruined your panties.”

“I didn’t mind. And I wore cheap ones tonight, just in case.” I take the opportunity for what it is and lift my dress over my head, tossing it on the floor. My bra and panties are lace and satin from the bargain bin, because I am very much hoping for a repeat of last time. “It’s okay if you want to lose control with me, King. I definitely want to lose control with you.”

He exhales a shaky breath, and his gaze moves over me in a hungry sweep. The smolder in his eyes sparks and flames. He crosses the room in four long strides and comes to an abrupt halt in front of me. His hands curl into fists, flexing and releasing as a low groan bubbles up from his chest. Still fighting to keep his leash on.

I uncross my legs and hook my foot around the back of his knee, tugging him closer.

His threads of control pull tight, threatening to snap.

He moves into the empty space between my thighs, and his hand shoots out, sliding into the hair at the nape of my neck to anchor there. His other hand runs up my bare thigh to cup my ass, fingertips digging in hard as I wrap my legs around his waist. I moan when his erection presses up against my stomach.

He tips my head back, lips only a breath away from mine, eyes dark with need and lust. His tongue peeks out to touch the imperfection in his front tooth. “You are entirely too much of a temptation to resist.”

“So stop resisting.”

I expect him to give in and kiss me, but instead he drops his head and drags the tip of his nose along the column of my throat, lips following until he pauses at my ear. “You may need to set some parameters for me, my queen, so I know how out of control I’m allowed to get here.”

I shiver in anticipation at his low warning tone and this new endearment. “No parameters.”

He pulls back, lips temptingly close. “None?”

I bite the edge of his jaw, enjoying the slight sting and tug at the base of my skull when his fingers tighten in my hair. “I’ve been waiting for months to get back into your bedroom.” I arch up and nibble his bottom lip. “Lock the Boy Scout in the closet and let yourself off your leash, King.”

CHAPTER 14

UNRESTRAINED

Kingston

I very rarely lose control.

Actually, that’s untrue.

Pre-Queenie I very rarely lost control. Now it seems every time I’m alone with her, the word becomes an elusive, untenable concept. Especially when we’re unclothed. Which is part of the reason I’ve avoided bringing her back to my place after our dates. Or spending any time with her in either of our hotel rooms at away games. I’m trying to be respectful of my girlfriend and our situation.

But tonight I planned to bring her back here. After I picked her up, brought her flowers and chocolate—those are sitting on my kitchen counter—and took her out for a nice dinner.

Because I haven’t done more than kiss her in the past two weeks. I haven’t touched her, tasted her, made her come. And it’s literally all I can think about when I’m not on the ice.

I haven’t been this hormonally driven since I was a teenager. And back then I used hockey to work out the frustration. It’s become an ineffective strategy where Queenie is concerned.

In hindsight, the two-week wooing period in which I deprived Queenie and myself of any kind of gratification was probably not my smartest move. And now she’s given me explicit permission to loosen my reins.

Queenie’s fingertips drift down my cheek. Even that innocuous contact sends a shot of heat down my spine and makes my erection twitch behind my fly. A tiny moan leaves Queenie’s lips, pulling me out of my head.

“I’m taking you to bed.” It’s more growl than words.

A shiver runs through her, and she clasps her hands behind my neck as I hoist her up. “That’s all I’m asking for,” she murmurs in my ear, nipping at the lobe.

“I think you’re asking for a lot more than a make-out session and a snuggle.” I squeeze her lush bottom as I carry her down the hall.

“An orgasm would be incredibly welcome.” Her lips part against the side of my neck, and her wet, warm tongue sweeps out, teeth pressing gently into the skin.

I shoulder the door open and carry her over to the bed, laying her out on the freshly washed sheets. “Just one?” I ask as I climb up after her.

Queenie yanks my shirt free from my pants and rises up on her knees, palms flattening against my stomach, pushing my shirt up. I pull it over my head and toss it on the floor while Queenie goes to work on my belt. “Last time I was here I lost track, so if you can make me so incoherent I forget how to count, that would be perfect.”

“I should be able to manage that.” I slide a hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, fingers twisting in the satin strands and gripping gently. I tip her head back and brush my lips from the base of her throat to her chin, biting softly before I angle her head to the side and cover her mouth with mine. I groan when she eases her hand inside my boxer briefs and her soft, warm palm encases my erection.

I mirror her actions, skimming a nipple with a fingertip and gliding lower, slipping into her satin and lace panties. I stroke slick, swollen skin and murmur against her lips, “You’re already wet for me.”

“That shouldn’t be a surprise,” Queenie chuckles breathily and whimpers when I circle her entrance.

“Mmm, it was more of an observation than anything.” I ease a single finger inside her, and she moans. I curl forward, finding the spot that makes her grip on my erection tighten and her rhythm falter. When I slip my hand out from between her thighs, she sucks in a breath and breaks the kiss.