I curl one hand over the back of her neck and thrust the other one through her hair. It feels like silk between my fingers.

“Colin,” she whispers, and the sound of my name on her lips is what spurs me to action.

I lower my head and press my lips to hers, and she makes the sweetest sound in the world. A soft, desperate moan. Then she deepens the kiss and it’s my turn to moan. When our tongues meet, I feel like I’ve been struck by a Taser gun. A jolt of electricity sizzles right down to my dick. Fries my brain. Makes my hands shake.

She tastes like cola and mint, and her lips are so damn soft. We stand there in the dark, her tongue in my mouth, my fingers in her hair. One of her legs comes up and hooks around my waist. And I don’t know if it’s intentional or not, but her foot nudges the edge of my towel, causing the terrycloth to slide to the floor.

Her mouth abruptly leaves mine. “Your dick’s out,” she informs me.

I choke on a laugh. “Yup.”

“Cool.” Humor colors her tone. “Just making sure you know.”

Our gazes lock as she flattens one palm against my bare chest. Meanwhile, my hard-on is impossible to ignore. It’s like a sharp sword between us, poking her in the belly.

Her fingertips drift lower. Only an inch, hovering over my abs. Despite the steam still hanging in the air, I shiver.

Her hand stops moving. “Are you cold?”

“No,” I say thickly.

I’m enjoying her slow, torturous exploration of my chest. Delicate fingers caress my abdominal muscles before skimming even lower.

“Remember the night we met?” she murmurs. “When I teased you about showing me your dick?”

A laugh slips out. “How could I forget?”

Her head slants, sending her silky hair cascading over one shoulder. “You said you don’t go around showing it to just anyone.”

“I don’t.”

“So I’m special.”

“Very much so.”

Her fingers wrap around the base of my aching cock. The instant she makes contact, a shudder rolls through me, and moisture forms at my tip. Jesus. I’m leaking. That’s how turned on I am.

She slides her hand up and down a few times. And then she actually tugs me forward by the dick and crushes her lips against mine again.

I grunt, thrusting into her closed fist. My tongue fills her mouth and we exchange the hottest kiss I’ve ever experienced. Once again I’m lost in the fog. I’m lost in her. I barely feel the pain in my eye anymore. Right now, I’m kissing Summer and she’s stroking my cock and I’m in frickin’ heaven.

When I drag my hands up her body to cup her tits over her thin V-neck sweater, I promptly lose the ability to think straight. Even through her bra I can feel her nipples, hard little buds that make my mouth tingle with need. I’ve always been a boob guy, and I desperately wish I was sucking and nibbling on her tits. The fantasy has me groaning loudly against her lips. She strokes me faster, and just when I think it couldn’t feel any better, she pushes my hands away and sinks to her knees.

“Let me make you feel good.”

I gaze down, but it’s hard to see her expression. It’s too dark. But I feel every last sensation when her warm, wet mouth engulfs me.

“Oh fuck,” I grind out.

She sucks me all the way to the root, then licks her way back up. Her tongue teases my tip before gliding along the underside of my shaft, and I almost black out.

“God…fuck, that’s good…”

Her answering moan vibrates all around me. I swear I feel it in my toes. She takes me deeper and sucks harder, pumping me with her hand while she torments me with her tongue.

In the back of my mind I hear alarm bells. Stop this, they warn. But stopping is impossible when Summer’s blonde head is moving up and down on my dick. My fingers tangle in her hair, but I don’t seize control. I let her go at her own pace, trusting that she’ll get me where I need to be.

And she does. As the suction tightens and her pace quickens, my balls throb and the tip of my dick tingles and then I’m there. “Coming,” I choke out.

She doesn’t release me. I bite the side of my thumb to stop from groaning out loud as I rock my hips and shoot in her mouth. She swallows every drop while I shudder in pleasure bordering on pain.

When Summer rises to her feet, I pull her close and rest my chin on her shoulder. Still shaking from that climax.

“I needed that,” I say hoarsely.

“I know you did.” She plants a kiss between my pecs and brings her hand back to my dick, petting it softly.

I break out in shivers. “You’re killing me.”

Her laughter tickles my collarbone. “Sorry. I just really like touching you.” She pauses. “I should probably go.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to.”

I feel her trembling as she kisses me again, this time the fleeting brush of her lips over my shoulder. “What just happened here, Fitz?”

You blew my dick and my mind? I almost say. But I know what she means. She wants to know what this means.

“I—”

“Hoo-hooo! Hoo-hooo!”

My head snaps up in alarm. Was that an owl?

“Oh shit,” Summer blurts out. “That’s the signal.”

“Signal?”

“Yeah. Brenna is in the hall. I asked her to keep an eye out and make sure nobody catches me in here.”

She’s barely finished speaking when we hear the voices. And the footsteps. A lot of voices, and a lot of footsteps. My teammates are coming down the tunnel.

Summer snatches my fallen towel off the ground and hurriedly wraps it around my waist. Her fingers brush my dick, and I swallow a groan. I’m still hard.

I take a breath and nod to a doorway on the far end of the showers. “The PT room is in there. It leads to the coaches’ offices, and there’s another exit to the arena from there.”

The footsteps grow louder, accompanied by animated male voices and raucous laughter. My teammates sound happy, which means we won.

“Summer,” I say when she doesn’t move. “You gotta go. And you better do it fast, before the boys get in here and start pulling their dicks out.”

She hesitates. “We need to finish this conversation.”

“We will,” I promise. “At home.”

Her teeth dig into her lip. “Brenna and I are meeting friends at the bar.”

“Then we’ll talk at the bar. Or afterward. Right now, you need to go.”

Summer nods. She stands on her tiptoes, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and then she’s gone.

I’m a pussy. I don’t go looking for Summer after the game, and I don’t go to Malone’s. I also don’t go home.

Like an asshole, I get in my car and drive to Boston.

My friend Tucker bought a bar in the city this past fall. I helped him with the reno, getting it ready for its big opening in November. Doesn’t surprise me that the only person I want to confide in right now is Tuck. He’s easy to talk to and has a good head on his shoulders. Gives really smart advice too, and right now I’m desperate for some advice.

I’m reaching the freeway exit when my phone rings. My car is an older model and doesn’t have the Bluetooth feature, so I’m forced to use speakerphone. If it wasn’t my mother’s number flashing on the screen, I’d probably press ignore. But ignoring Mom is never a good idea.

“Colin! Sweetie! Are you all right?” Her greeting holds a hefty dose of concern.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your Uncle Randy was at your game tonight, and he just sent me a phone picture of your face!”

“You can just say ‘picture,’ Ma. You don’t have to specify ‘phone.’”

“But he sent it from his phone to my phone.”

“Yes, but—” I stop myself from continuing. Pick your battles, man. My mother isn’t an old lady and therefore has no excuse for her total lack of knowledge about anything tech-related. But she’s also set in her ways and arguing with her is pointless.

She still uses a BlackBerry, for chrissake.

“I promise, I’m fine. Got stitched up and now I’m good as new.”

“How many stitches?”

“Only two.”

“Okay.” The worry leaves her tone. Unfortunately, it’s replaced with anger. “This is all your father’s fault.”

Here we go again.

“How do you figure?” I don’t know why I’m playing along. I already know the answer.

“Because he forced you into hockey.”

“He didn’t force me. I love hockey.”

I may as well be speaking to my car windshield. “What a selfish prick that man is,” she gripes. “Come on, Colin. You don’t think it’s pathetic that a grown man is trying to live vicariously through his son?”

My jaw tenses. No use in asking her to stop, though. Or vice versa. The pair of them never stop. “In other news,” I say in an attempt to steer the topic into safe territory. “My job interview went well.”

“You had an interview?” She sounds startled.

“Yup.” I quickly fill her in on Kamal Jain as I get off the freeway and stop at a set of red lights. “I guess he’ll make his decision after this fundraiser thing in New York.”