The Faker: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey), Gina Azzi [pocket ebook reader .TXT] 📗

I hold her gaze as she works her crop top over her head. I rock back on my heels when her breasts bounce free. She’s not even wearing a bra.

I grip her ankles and pull until she’s lying flat on my bed. Then, I slowly unzip her sexy boots and tug them off her feet. Next, I roll down the leather leggings, inch by inch. They’re so goddamn tight, they could be a second skin.

My breathing ticks up, my eyes scanning her body and trying to memorize every dip and curve. Trying to track it all like she’s suddenly going to disappear.

When she’s spread out beneath me in nothing but a black lace thong, I drink her in, knowing it will never be enough. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing, of knowing, Rielle.” The words are quiet but I mean them. I don’t say things like this to women. I never lead them on, never make promises I can’t keep. I just search and hope and wish for more. Now, Rielle is granting me the more and dammit, it means something even though it’s not supposed to. “I mean it. There’s no one like you.”

Tenderness blazes through her eyes, intense and heady and sincere. She reaches out, her fingertips brushing against the tops my shoulders but I step back. “I have something for you.”

She frowns, leaning up onto her elbows. Nervous energy zips through my body. Rielle is practically naked in my bed and I’m the one who feels vulnerable, whose heart is about to beat out of my chest. I reach into the top drawer of my dresser and remove the small pouch containing her ring.

She watches me, mesmerized, as my big fingers fumble with the strings. I laugh again. “I tied it too tightly. I was nervous I’d lose it before I had a chance to give it to you.”

She sits straight up, her eyes wide, her mouth dropping open.

I drop to my knees for the second time in her presence and take her hand in mine. “We’re doing this all backwards. But I don’t care because our story is quickly becoming my favorite.”

She draws in a sharp inhale, her fingers trembling in mine.

I wish I knew what she’s thinking. I wish I knew if I was scaring the hell out of her or if she was pleased or pitying me for being so goddamn emotional over a contract. But when I gaze into Rielle’s eyes, everything that passes between us feels like more than just an agreement. Fine, it may not be happily-ever-after and stars and rainbows, but it’s real.

It’s mine and hers.

I work a swallow and forge ahead. “Rielle Carter, I know this isn’t a traditional love story. I know we have an expiration date and are jumping into this for less than honest reasons.” The corner of her mouth tugs up and for one blink, she looks more like a wishful girl than a fierce woman. “But I swear to you, I will respect and cherish you always, even when you’re no longer mine. I admire your strength, am in awe of your courage, and feel both small and tall in your presence. Thank you for agreeing to marry me.” I slip the ring on her finger.

She gasps as she holds out her hand and admires the diamond on the ring finger of her left hand. It’s elegant—a two-carat diamond in a princess cut, with a thin platinum band. I hold my breath, waiting for her reaction, hoping like hell she likes it.

“I love it. It’s beautiful,” she says, looking up at me. “You picked the perfect ring.”

I smile, relief unspooling through my limbs. “I picked the perfect girl.”

She wrinkles her nose at my being so corny and I laugh. But I still mean it. I’ve dated scores of women and none of them have come close to Ri. “Now…” I shift until I’m hovering over her. She lays back against the mattress as I crawl up her body. “I’m going to make you scream my name, sweetheart. But I’m saving sex for our wedding night.” I drop a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, her lips.

“What?” she snorts, her thighs clenching together. “After that speech and this ring”—she holds up her hand—“you’re going to make me wait for it?”

“Promise, I’ll make it so good for you,” I swear, dragging the tip of my nose along her jawline. I nip at her earlobe and my hand finds her breast, massaging it.

She whimpers, arching into me.

“And after you say ‘I do,’ if you still want this, with me, I’ll light you up, babe. But if we get one thing right, it’s going to be our wedding night.” I pull back to look at her and note the vulnerability in her expression. I feel it reflected in mine and admit the truth. “You’re the only woman I’ll ever marry, Rielle. And call me old-fashioned but the wedding night…”

“You want a traditional one?” she whispers.

I nod, feeling a blush work over my cheeks. Jesus, I’m the goddamn blushing bride in this arrangement.

She laughs but then shakes her head. “Your logic is endearing, Torsten.” She bites her bottom lip. “You’re much more romantic than I thought you’d be.”

I chuckle and slide my palm down her body. “But we can still play tonight. If you want.”

She slips her hand up my arm and around my back, bringing my lips to hers. She kisses me hard. Deep. “I’d like that,” she whispers, right as my fingers dip under the material of the scrap of lace between her legs.

I breathe out a tortured sigh. “How long have you been this wet for me, Ri?”

“Since I was getting ready to go out tonight,” she admits, her words unleashing a torrent of lust through my veins. I push one, then two, fingers inside of her and swear.

The sound of her arousal mixed with our panting is the only sound in