Gloves Off: a marriage of convenience hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 4)

Back at the house, I’m helping her out of her coat when she sucks in a sharp breath.

“I got you a present. For Christmas.”

My eyebrows lift. “Yeah?”

“You don’t have to get me anything,” she adds, a nervous edge to her voice that makes me smile more.

“I did.” The black velvet box in my bag upstairs tugs at my attention, but from the panic in her eyes earlier, she isn’t ready for it.

“I didn’t know if we were exchanging gifts.”

“We are.”

She bites her bottom lip, Christmas tree lights sparkling in her pretty eyes. “Okay.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Her eyes dart around. She’s nervous. Fucking adorable.

“I want my present.”

Her eyes flicker with amusement. “So demanding.”

I stare at her before she rolls her eyes and heads to the garage. When she doesn’t return, I find her standing at the open trunk of her car, chewing her lip. She sees me and steps in the way, blocking my view.

“You know what?” She makes a face like she’s laughing at herself. “I’m so sorry. I forgot your gift at the store.”

Little liar. I try not to smile. “Georgia. You don’t need to be nervous, sweetheart.” And I need to see what’s in those boxes.

“I’m not nervous⁠—”

I gather the boxes and carry them inside. She follows at my heels.

“You’re so hard to buy for, Alexei. Like, really, what do you get the guy who can buy anything for himself, you know?”

In the front room, I take a seat on the sofa and open the first box, hooking my finger into the strap of something emerald green, lacy, and hot as hell. I raise an eyebrow at her, already picturing her in it.

A pretty blush appears on her face. “That’s for me.” She presses her lips together, eyes sparkling. “But also for you.”

We’ve been fooling around nonstop since I got home. Last night, the middle of the night, this morning. This morning again, in the shower.

And yet, I want her again. It still won’t be enough, though. My appetite for Georgia Greene is insatiable.

“You bought this, thinking about me?”

The blush deepens.

“Hellfire,” I warn, already getting hard. “Tell the truth.”

“Yes,” she says lightly.

I grip the back of her neck and give her a hard kiss, blood rushing to my groin. I groan against her lips. “Good girl. I love it. Thank you.”

She smiles, and my heart expands. When I move to the next box, though, she folds her arms, then tucks them under her thighs, then folds them again.

This is the one she’s nervous about. Curiosity courses through me as I open it.

My fingers find soft knit fabric, and I pull out an emerald green sweater.

“I know it’s not the most original gift,” she says quietly, “but my mom gets one for my dad every year. It’s tradition.”

My heart aches with affection. I want this to be the first of many Christmas sweaters from Georgia. I want a whole closet full of them.

I nudge my chin at the lingerie. “Are we going to match?”

She laughs. “I love the way men look in those sweaters.” Her eyes dart to mine. “I saw it and I thought of you.”

“I’m glad you did.” I pull her into my lap. “I love it. Thank you.”

Our kiss is sweet and soft, and deep in my chest, everything settles.

She’s terrified, but she’s trying. She’s inching forward to meet me.

“All right.” I give her thigh a squeeze before setting her aside. “Your turn. Stay here.”

I return a moment later with a box.

“This is one of your gifts. The other wasn’t ready in time,” I lie about the velvet box.

The second she shakes the box I hand her, she smiles.

“Really,” she says, like she can’t believe it.

“Just open it.”

Her eyes glow with excitement as she tears off the wrapping, and when she flips the box open, she lets out an excited yelp of surprise. “Shoes!”

“Like them?” I laugh.

A puzzled expression forms on her pretty face, and she narrows her eyes up at me. “I don’t know these.”

I stifle a grin. Her eyes narrow more.

“I know every shoe by this designer from the last five years. This is not one of them.”

“I know.” Most of the shoes in her closet are by this designer.

“Alexei.”

“Keep looking.”

Her expression is wary, like she’s afraid to peek in the box, before she pulls out a card. She reads it and her eyes go wide.

I already know what it says. The Georgia—for a woman who knows she’s hot.

“Shut up,” she whispers. She sees me grinning. “Alexei, shut the fuck up.”

She loves it. I knew she’d fucking love it. This husband thing? I was born to do it.

“You got her to design a shoe for me?” she screams, jumping up and throwing her arms around my neck, covering me in kisses.

“Mhm.” I smile against her hair, my heart pounding and flipping over in my chest. “So you like them?”

“I love them,” she howls into my neck.

“Put them on.”

“No,” she gasps, breaking away to gather the shoes against her chest. “I can’t wear these. I’m going to keep them under glass.” She gazes at the shoes like they’re her bunnies. I love you guys, she mouths.

“Sweetheart, I bought ten pairs. And they’ll be out next winter in stores. Put them on.”noveldrama

I ease back on the couch, one arm over the top of it, and when she reaches for the shoes, I send a pointed glance to the lingerie.

“Put all of it on.”

She bites her bottom lip, her mouth curving up, and my blood starts to race when she lifts her top off. I watch from the couch as she undresses.

“Close your eyes,” she says when she reaches behind her to take her bra off, and I let my eyes close for a brief moment before they’re open again. Her back is to me as she slips on the items I bought her, and my gaze trails down her soft curves, over her toned legs, to those sexy little fuck-me heels.

I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. “God, you’re beautiful.”

She smiles, turning around. “You were supposed to close your eyes.”

We gaze at each other for a beat, my heart racing, arousal pooling in my groin and a heavy warmth growing in my chest.

“I can’t close my eyes around you, Georgia.”

Her mouth curves, eyes sparkling. “Because you can’t trust me?”

“Because I don’t want to miss a second of this.”

The delicate line of her throat works. Does she believe me?

“Come here,” I say quietly, and she does.

So obedient and trusting. God, I fucking love her.

She climbs onto my lap and her lips meet mine, kissing me, running her hands over my chest, tugging on my hair, making me groan as I wrap my arms around her. She opens up for me and our kiss is a perfect give and take as we lose ourselves in each other.

My hand drifts between her legs, where her panties are damp.

“Wet, already.”

“It’s the shoes,” she whispers into my ear with that teasing smile. “They turn me on.”

I glance down to them. Delicate yet deadly. “Me too.”

She laughs, and I lift her off me before standing.

“Stay there.” She gives me an odd look before I take a seat on the floor, my back against the couch, and maneuver her so my head is between her legs, her kneeling and facing the back of the couch with arms braced.

Her eyes flare with alarm.

“I wouldn’t do this unless I wanted to,” I say quietly, rubbing her thigh. “It’s all I thought about while I was away.”

Her throat works.

“Please,” I add, with a crooked smile. “Let me get a taste of my wife. Let me change your mind about this.”

She presses her lips together before she gives me a tiny nod. A deep sense of determination floods me.

“Like this?” She looks uncertain at the position.

I guarantee she’s never ridden a guy’s face before, and I love being the first.

“Uh-huh.” My hands come to her ass, slipping my fingers beneath the lace to palm her soft skin.

“Right here?”

I grin, thinking about her sucking my cock so well in the foyer a few weeks ago. “Yes, sweetheart, right here.”

Hooking my fingers beneath the fabric, I pull it aside and drag my tongue up her center.

“Oh god,” she breathes.

I let her take what she needs, let her ride my face like I’ve thought about for years. Images of exactly what we’re doing now have snuck into my head at the worst times—in the dressing room, during a face-off, during postgame press—and now that we’re actually doing it, I’m so hard it hurts.

She finds a good rhythm, her breath coming out in shallow pants, and I pull my cock out, stroking myself as I work her clit with my tongue and lips.

“Who’s the world’s hottest wife?” I ask.

She laughs, head falling forward onto the sofa.

“Say it, Georgia.”

“Fine.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “I am.”

“That’s right. That’s my girl.”

I press my fingers at her entrance, pushing inside her to find the ridged spot that makes her fall apart. She moans, tightening around my fingers.

Against her pussy, I smile. That’s the sound I wanted to hear. I massage that spot, lavishing attention on the bundle of nerves at the top of her entrance, and before long, her thighs tighten.

“Say my name when you come, sweetheart.”

She sucks in a sharp breath, and around my fingers, her muscles clamp down, tensing and spasming.

“Alexei.” She works her pussy against my mouth, riding my tongue and fingers, and my balls ache with need as I stroke myself faster. “Please don’t stop.”

Those words are heaven to my ears. Her hand threads into my hair, tugging, sending electric currents down my spine, and I suck her clit hard, driving her to the next level of orgasm. A rush of moisture coats my fingers, and the moan she makes is desperate, frantic, disbelieving.

When the last shudder rolls through her and she sighs into the couch, I flip her over, pull my clothes off, and retrieve a condom from my wallet before rolling it on.

Still catching her breath, she reaches to take her heels off, but I pull her wrists away, stopping her.

“Leave them on.”

She grins, eyes still glazed. “I knew it.”

“I think everyone knew it,” I admit, laughing a little, before I sink into her and my laugh falls away.

It’s like coming home. Like being exactly where I belong. Together, we fit. Together, nothing else matters. Her tight warmth is so welcoming, I can’t think. Need pounds through me as I lower my mouth to hers, kissing her, pushing in to the hilt. I pull her knee up over my shoulder to sink deeper and a broken moan slips out of her.

“The sweetest noise I’ve ever heard,” I growl into her neck, my hips pulling back to thrust in again. “You’re such a good wife, sweetheart,” I gather a fistful of hair for leverage. Georgia’s pretty lips part, her eyelids falling halfway as she accommodates my size. “Such a pretty wife. Such a trusting wife.”

I pull her other leg over my shoulder, and as I bury myself in her again and again, her body tightens. Her heels dig into my back, sharp pricks of pain winding my desire higher. Around my cock, her pussy flexes. She’s close again. Fire races through my blood and I have to fight not to let my head fall back with pleasure. I’m driving into her now, finding a fast rhythm. Punishing her for being so perfect, for changing my life, for making me want everything with her.

“That’s so fucking good, Georgia.” My voice is a low, gritty rasp. “I’m so close. You’re a goddamned dream. Does my pretty little wife like me fucking her hard like this?”

I feel the shiver that runs through her. Her eyes meet mine, hazy and pupils wide with lust. She nods; heat pounds harder through my body.

The first flutters inside her, the way her eyes close in pleasure, the blush on her cheekbones, the sound of her moaning beneath me—the sensations blur together, pressure tightens at the base of my spine, and excruciating, incredible desire slices me into a thousand pieces.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” I manage, breathing hard, heart pounding. “I’m going to come inside you.”

With her hair in my fist and her eyes on me, I fuck my gorgeous wife until the pleasure boils over, my balls tighten, and I release into her. Deep in my brain, everything locks into place.

I am never letting her go. I’ll give her all the time and space she needs, but I will never give up on the woman I love.

Georgia is mine.