Page 30 of Gabbi's Goalie

"Mostly snacks." I shrug, unrepentant about packing like a five-year-old.

"Do they not feed you?" she asks, eyes still wide.

"My teammates never bring their own shit," I complain. "They're like the neighbor who wants to borrow sugar to make cereal, only they show up with nothing to put the sugar in. So you give them a bowl. And then they need to borrow milk. Once they've got that, they need cereal, and a spoon. In short, if you give a hockey player a snack, he's going to want the whole goddamn fridge because his ass packed nothing useful."

Gabbi's lips twitch as she fights a smile. "So you pack your entire pantry instead of clothes?"

"Feeding the fuckers is easier than listening to them complain the entire trip, so I started coming prepared." I shrug again, holding out a hand toward her. "You're welcome, by the way. My snack hoarding means you aren't going to have to eat that single can of hot dog chili we found in the cabinet."

She grimaces at the thought of the hot dog chili. It looks like it's been in the cabinet over the table for a good fifteen years. Maybe longer. She sashays toward me to slip her hand into mine.

I reel her in, not stopping until she has no choice but to climb onto the bed with me. She settles beside me, her shoulder pressed to mine as she surveys the snacks.

"Are those Scooby Doo fruit snacks?"

"Is there any other kind of fruit snack?" I quirk a brow, picking up the package in question. "These things are fucking delicious."

She beams at me, her expression soft in the flickering firelight. "You're a man of many mysteries, Atlas Jacks."

"Nothing mysterious about me, Temptation. I like hockey, food, and you." I think about it before adding, "In reverse order."

"I'm at the top of the list, huh?" She bats her lashes at me, clearly up to something. "What does that earn me, Big Guy?"

"Anything you want." I hide the fruit snacks behind my back. "Except my fruit snacks."

Her face falls into an adorable pout. "But they're the best kind."

"I know. Why do you think I'm not sharing?"

She growls, snapping her teeth at me playfully as she lunges as if to forcibly steal my fruit snacks. I pluck her up from the bed mid lunge, toppling her over backward. We land in a sea of protein bars, Twizzlers, and individual sized Pringles.

She laughs up at me, her eyes bright enough to light up the entire fucking cabin. I forget about feeding her. I forget about where we are. I forget everything but how beautiful she is and how badly I need to kiss her.

My lips brush hers, earning a soft sigh from her lips. She melts beneath me, her arms coming up to wrap around my neck. I drink from her lips, perfectly willing to gorge myself on her. Fuck fruit snacks. She's my guilty pleasure, my secret addiction, and the one thing I won't share.

"You're so goddamn beautiful," I murmur, brushing strands of hair back from her face. It's not hard to see why Jordan is so protective over her. Five minutes with her makes it obvious she's priceless. Her brother knows how motherfuckers think. We see something like her—something so pure—and want it for ourselves.

"So are you." She smiles up at me, her expression honest and open and so fucking sweet I have to kiss her again.

"Are you falling in love with me yet, Temptation?" I whisper, brushing my nose against hers. I'm already there with her. I didn't even fall. I think I took a swan dive, jumping headfirst into it. It's impossible not to love her.

I'm not sure I even expect her to answer, the question just spills from my lips. But she answers anyway, as honest as ever. "I'm falling so hard," she admits. "And so fast."

"Good," I whisper, her words sending a powerful wave through me. It's triumph and something deeper…adoration, devotion. I'm not sure I know the name for it, But I know there's not a single other person on the planet I'd rather be lost in the woods with. There isn't a single other person who could claim even a piece of my heart. The whole thing belongs to her.

"Kiss me," she demands, turning her face up to mine.

I take the liberty she gives me, brushing featherlight kisses all over her face before I arrive back at her lips. I hover there for a moment, earning a frustrated whine from her. She doesn't like to be denied.

I file that away for later, sinking into her kiss like she's my favorite dessert. Shit, I think she may be my favorite flavor, period. She's sweet like vanilla, spicy like cinnamon. It's an intoxicating combination, one that's somehow uniquely her.

Her arms tighten around my neck, drawing me closer. I crawl over her, nudging her legs apart to fit myself between them, needing to touch her in as many places as possible, to feel her in as many ways as possible.

She moans beneath me, arching from the bed to seam our bodies together. More electric shocks flow through me, hardening my cock. The pounding in my head all but vanishes, pain unable to survive where pleasure rules.

I grind against her, run my hands all over her, trying to memorize the feel of her beneath me, to imprint it into my brain so the memory becomes an indelible part of me.

She pants beneath me, her legs around my waist as she tries to figure out a rhythm. Her hips roll as if she were born to fuck, born to please. Goddamn. I need inside her more than I need air.