Strictly for Now by Carrie Elks
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
MACKENZIE
Eli is still next to me when the glow of the clock on the bedside table tells me it’s almost three in the morning. After I made him see heaven with my mouth he collapsed against the pillows, pulling me against him as he crashed into sleep.
I dozed, too. But now I’m awake and staring at his pretty face.
He looks young when he sleeps. Like there’s not a care to etch lines on his face. His eyes flutter and his lips part to let him breathe but he barely moves.
My gaze continues down to his chest. I look at the smattering of hair across his muscles and it makes me want to kiss him.
So I do. I kiss the skin stretched across his defined pectoral muscles, breathing him in like he does to me.
And yeah, it’s intoxicating.
He has these tight, masculine nipples that I already know are overly sensitive. I sucked them after I sucked him and I swear he purred like a cat. I touch one with the tip of my tongue and even though he’s asleep, he lets out a groan.
Then I pull at it with my teeth and he slides his fingers into my hair. I guess he’s awake.
I look up at him. “Hey.”
“Hey.” The warmth in his voice is like a blanket. “You okay?”
“Yep.” I smile at him. “Just wanted to see how sensitive your body is.”
He scratches my scalp with his short fingertips. “Everything about me is sensitive where you’re concerned. What time is it?”
“Just after three.”
He blinks. Long languid sweeps of his lashes make me realize he’s only half awake. “It’s okay. You can go back to sleep. I’ll just amuse myself with your nipples.”
His chest rumbles with laughter. He pulls me up against him. “You need sleep, too,” he points out.
I lay my head on his chest, curling against him. He strokes my hair and I can’t lie, I let out a little purr. “I’m not sleepy,” I tell him. It’s the truth. So many thoughts are whirring around my mind right now. And if I’m being truly honest, I want to enjoy laying here in his arms.
Eli Salinger gives good hugs. It’s a revelation. I never knew how starved I was of human contact. Yes, I have friends who hug me, and yes, I love them to bits.
But this skin against skin? When did I last feel this? It should be available on prescription. Eli could rent himself daily to do this.
No, he shouldn’t. I don’t want him holding anybody else like he’s holding me.
I blink. Because I shouldn’t be thinking that. This is strictly for now. In a few months I’ll be going back to New York and Eli will be here.
“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs. “Your muscles have all tightened up.”
“Did Gramps tell you about the exhibition game?” I ask him, even though that’s not what’s on my mind right now.
“Yeah.” He strokes my back, his finger tracing a line down my spine. “The team will be stoked.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea?” I lift my head up. “Your schedule is already tight and the team is stretched thin.”
His fingers reach the base of my spine, caressing the myriad of nerve endings all bundled there. I arch my back and he chuckles.
“You’re worried about the team’s fitness?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I just…” I trail off. “I guess I’m weirded out by the fact my family will be here along with TV cameras.” I look up at him. His eyes are soft, still sleepy. He looks so contented. “I guess you’re used to the cameras.”
He shrugs. “When I’m playing hockey I don’t even think about them. Don’t think about anything except getting the puck in the goal.”
“That’s because you’re good at it,” I tell him.
That earns me a smile. “Well, thank you.”
It must be so nice to glide across the ice without giving a damn. Without feeling like you’re constantly going to fall on your ass.
“You’re doing it again,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“Over thinking.”
I bite down a smile. “It’s a bad habit.”
“What are you thinking about now?” he asks me.
This time I’m completely honest. “That it must be nice to enjoy skating.”
Eli tips his head to the side. “I don’t really think about that, either. Like I don’t think about walking.”
“You’d think about walking if you fell over every time your feet hit the concrete.”
“Is that what you think when you see the ice?”
“Pretty much.” I trace the hard curve of his bicep. “Or really, I think about how to avoid going anywhere near it.” I lift a brow. “Now that you know who my family is, you probably think I’m a changeling.”
He looks pensive. “I know your dad, of course. Who doesn’t? And I’ve played against your brothers a few times.”
I grimace. “Sorry.” They’re famous for being assholes on the ice.
“They’re good kids.”
And it’s weird, but I like that he likes them. Brad and Johnny are my closest siblings. With mom and dad so busy all the time, and Isabella being at practice any time she wasn’t at school, I felt like their stand-in-mom.
His fingers have made their way back up my spine. He kneads the muscles just above my shoulder blades and I groan.
“You need to relax,” he whispers. “So much tension.”
“This is me relaxed,” I say and he laughs again, before sliding his hands down to my waist and hitching me up.
“What are you doing?” I ask, surprised by the sudden jerk of his palms.
“Helping you relax. Move up here. Sit on my face.”
“Eli!” My eyes widen. Nobody’s ever asked me to do that before and I’m embarrassed.
“I’m serious,” he tells me. “Sit on it. I’m gonna make you come and then you’re gonna let whatever thoughts you have going on disappear so you can curl up in my arms to sleep.”
“I’ll squash you,” I protest.
He quirks a brow. “You’re not gonna squash me.” His hands curl around my hips and damn if he doesn’t practically lift me over his chest. I squeal and scoot on my legs until my knees are on either side of his biceps.
I look down at him. His eyes are dark. “I’m hungry,” he tells me. “Now get your ass up here.”
Though I’m embarrassed, I do as I’m told, reaching for the top of my headboard as he lets out a long groan.
“I’m never gonna get bored with the way you smell.”
If I felt exposed with him kneeling in front of me earlier, it’s nothing compared to this. I’m straddling his head, his fingers digging into my thighs to steady me, as he slowly slides his tongue along my neediest part. And he’s right, all thoughts about ice and failure fly out of my head. All I can think about is his tongue, his fingers, the way his beard feels against my thighs.
He makes me feel safe and alive. Like I could do anything and he wouldn’t judge me. I’ve never felt like that before.
It’s just me and this stupidly attractive hockey player, who’s fisting himself as he devours me, letting out groans like I’m the best meal he’s ever eaten.
I close my eyes, bracing myself against the headboard and let out my own aching groan, embarrassment forgotten as he teases me until I’m screaming.
This man is going to be the death of me.
* * *
MACKENZIE
“Why did you take the dating app off your phone?” Rachel asks. It’s Monday morning and I’m drinking my Goran-delivered coffee, trying not to wince because I’m kind of tender down there.
No wonder. I spent most of yesterday in bed with Eli. Every time we talked about getting up we ended up having sex again.
My lady parts have been seriously overworked.
“Who told you?” I ask her.
“I overheard Allison on the phone to her boyfriend. She’s promised him she’ll find some other sucker to test it. Anyway, stop changing the subject. Was it your date that put you off?”
“Kind of.”
“What do you mean kind of? What else would make you do that—” She trails off. “Oh. My. God. Have you been seeing somebody without telling me?”
“No.” I shift in my chair.
“Is it that delicious Swede who brings you coffee?”
“Goran? No.” I frown. “I’m nearly old enough to be his mom.”
“That shouldn’t stop you. Who else then? Wait. Eli Salinger?”
How did she get there so fast? Maybe it’s the distinct lack of men my age in the local region. “Maybe,” I concede.
“EEEEK!” Her cry makes me wince. “You and the coach?”
“Please tell me nobody in the office heard that.”
“I’m not in the office,” she tells me. “I’m walking out of the coffee shop onto the sidewalk. Nobody can hear me. Well, nobody from work anyway. The donut guy just gave me a funny look though.” There’s a slurping sound. “Anyway, don’t change the subject. I need all the details. Right now.”
“What details?” I ask her. “It was one night.” And a day. But she doesn’t need to know that.
“Was he good?”
I roll my eyes. “Um, yeah.”
She lets out a groan. “Talking to you is like getting blood from a stone. I need enthusiasm here. Marks out of ten. That kind of thing. My dry spell has been as long as yours. I need to live vicariously through you.”
I check that the door to my office is closed. This isn’t the kind of conversation I want anybody to hear.
Not even the donut guy.
“He didn’t watch the whole video,” I tell her.
“What?”
“I told him before we could do anything he needed to watch the video of me on the ice. He started watching it then stopped when he realized what had happened.”
“You told him to watch a video of your coochie?” Rachel asks. “Why would you do that? Some kind of weird foreplay?”
“No. I wanted him to know what he was getting into. That I have history. If it ever comes out, he should know in advance.”
She sniggers.
“Not like that. You have a dirty mind.”
“Oh honey, I’m not the one who’s been making the beast with two backs with a hottie hockey player.” She clears her throat. “So was it good?”
I take a breath. “Yes.”
She squeals again. Louder this time. I send out a silent apology to the people of Manhattan. “I knew it. He’s a hockey player. They’re notorious for being the best kind of lovers.”
“My dad’s a hockey player,” I point out, feeling icky. “And my brothers.”
“Except them,” she adds quickly. “They’re crap.”
“I don’t know if that’s any better.”
She lets out a sigh. “We’re getting off track here. Fuck your family – not literally because eww – can we get back to Eli Salinger?”
“Why do you keep saying his whole name?” I ask her. “It sounds weird.”
“Because he’s Eli Salinger,” she whispers. “There are fan sites devoted to him.”
“What kind of fan sites?” I ask, because I haven’t actually Googled him. Maybe I should.
But then I’d be as bad as all the people who watched my video, wouldn’t I?
“Ones that Photoshop his head onto naked bodies.”
I wrinkle my nose. I’m definitely not looking now. “Why would they do that?”
“Because most women don’t get to see his naked body in real life. Is it awesome? Is he buff?” She lets out a laugh. “Of course he is. Do you think he’d mind if you took a picture and sent it to me?”
“I’d mind,” I tell her. “So no.”
“I was just kidding. Ask Goran to do it instead.”
“Shut up.” There’s a beep on my phone, and I’ve never been happier to hear it. “I’ve got to go. There’s another call coming in.” It’s actually an Instant Message. The alert sounds are different, but Rachel doesn’t need to know that.
“Just draw me an approximation,” she says quickly. “In fact, don’t bother. I’m going to search for hockey porn.”
“Goodbye, Rachel,” I say dryly, ending the call. I pull the phone back to see the message, a stupidly big smile pulling at my lips when I see the author.
Meet me in the locker room at seven tonight. – Eli
It’s stupid how happy that small message makes me.
And then I remind myself not to get too excited. This is just a casual thing. That’s what I wanted, isn’t it?
What if I’m busy? – Mackenzie
Three little dots appear on the screen. He’s typing back.
Are you busy? – Eli
I mean, no. And he almost certainly knows that. I just like teasing him. It feels good. Normal.
This flirting makes me feel like a woman.
Not really. I just read that a woman shouldn’t make herself too available to a guy. – Mackenzie
You been reading those 1980s issues of Vogue again, Hunter? – Eli
Ah, you got me. Tomorrow I’m starting the grapefruit diet. – Mackenzie
Don’t change a thing about that beautiful body of yours. I’ve been fantasizing about it all day – Eli
It’s been thinking about you, too. When it’s not aching. Or chafing. – Mackenzie
Chafing? Ouch. You should follow the cure for that in the April 1982 edition. – Eli
I left that one at home. What does it say? – Mackenzie
Sex. – Eli
Just one word? That’s poor writing. Also, they must have used big type. – Mackenzie
I’m paraphrasing. But also happy to volunteer as tribute. – Eli
Shut up. I’m busy. – Mackenzie
Meet me at seven? – Eli
You forgot to ask nicely. – Mackenzie
Please. – Eli
Ah, I’m a sucker for a guy with good manners. They make the most considerate lovers according to the December 1988 edition. – Mackenzie
Shut up. I’m busy. – Eli
I wish I could see his face. But this office doesn’t have a view of the rink, where I assume he’s watching practice. Part of me – the part that I know Rachel would approve of – tries to think of an excuse to go down there.
I could annoy him with some new towels. Or push his patience by talking to Goran about the new blend he brought me today. Which was actually delicious. The coffee shop on the corner apparently changes its guest blend monthly.
But then my phone rings, and I’m brought back down to earth with a bump.
“Hi Dad,” I say.
“Hi sweetheart. Did you talk to Gramps? We need to make some plans.”
I push those lovely thoughts of handsome hockey players with senses of humor from my mind and try not to sigh.
“Yes,” I tell him. “He’s excited. Let me grab a pen and we’ll talk.”
