Never Mine to Hold (Western Wildcats Hockey #3) Read Online Jennifer Sucevic

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Western Wildcats Hockey Series by Jennifer Sucevic
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Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
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Trembles rack my rigid body as my ears stay pricked for the slightest sound. It feels like hours slowly tick by before the door in the entryway opens and then closes, the lock clicking into place. The sound echoes throughout the quietness that presses in on me. Every footfall that brings him closer feels like the heavy step of a giant.

My fingers twist.

Locking and unlocking.

Carefully smoothing the material.

I freeze when he pauses over the threshold.

What does he see when he stares at me?

A virgin sacrifice cloaked in white?

Because that’s exactly what I feel like.

My heart thuds painfully beneath my breast. Any second, it’ll explode from my chest.

My ears continue to strain, pricked for the slightest sound.

Movement.

An acknowledgment or greeting.

Something that will reassure me that I’ve made the right decision.

The image of the guy from the elevator pops into my head.

Would I recognize the sound of his voice?

I try to dredge it up but aren’t able to. I’m so lost in thought that I startle when the mattress dips beneath his weight as he settles next to me. My lips part as I gulp oxygen into my lungs before releasing it in short bursts back into the atmosphere.

When he inches closer, the air stirs around us before I feel the gentle sweep of his finger across my lower lip. It’s slowly that it strums back and forth. Without a word, he traces the curve of my cheek to my jaw before sliding lower along the column of my neck to my collarbone and then back up again.

Just as I become used to his touch, his fingers disappear. I almost miss the tenderness of them.

The realization is jarring.

It’s the first sign that this might turn out to be more than what I expected.

A second later, his hands slip into the loose arms of the robe and stroke upward to my elbow. Back and forth he caresses, gently kneading the muscles along the way.

He twists, leaning over me, giving me a sense of his larger form. His woodsy cologne invades my senses, teasing my nostrils. There’s something strangely comforting about the scent. The heat of his body permeates mine as he cages me in with his strength. It’s an odd sensation to be blindfolded and rely on all of my other senses to piece together a mental picture of this person.

Touch.

Scent.

In the darkness that surrounds me, they feel heightened.

I focus on his hands as they continue to massage my muscles, attempting to loosen the tension that fills them. They’re large and strong. Once my arms turn pliant, he shifts, his hands settling on my ankles before gradually sliding to my knees. The thick material gets shoved upward to my thighs.

Air gets clogged at the back of my throat, which is ridiculous. If he made any move to strip off the robe, I’d silently allow him to do it.

He’s paid a lot for the honor.

But that’s not what happens.

Instead, his hands slide beneath my leg, propping it up until the sole of my foot rests flat against the comforter. Then he works the tight muscles of my calf with an insistent touch. It’s slowly that he slides upward to my knee. Only when those muscles have turned pliant does he venture higher up my thigh. When he’s thoroughly massaged one leg, he shifts on the bed and gives the same attention to the other. My mind drifts as I sink into the unexpected pleasure. I almost forget why I’m here.

Blindfolded.

Being touched by a stranger.

When he’s finished, my muscles feel deliciously malleable. No one has ever handled me like this.

His fingertips drift from my thigh to my ankle before he shifts toward my upper body. That’s all it takes for my anxiety to slam back full force. My fingers sink into the plush comforter, clawing the material in order to keep silent.

His thumb settles on my lower lip before ghosting over the plump flesh. Air leaks painfully from my lungs as he strums back and forth. When the tip of his finger slips into my mouth, my tongue darts out, licking at it, tasting the saltiness of his skin. A hiss escapes from him as he jerks away.

My breathing turns jagged, my heart pumping wildly beneath my breast. Even though his finger is no longer there, my tongue slips out to moisten my lips, wanting another taste.

It’s almost a surprise when his hands settle on the tie cinched at my waist. For a moment or two, he doesn’t move. We hang suspended for what feels like hours. My nerves stretch and lengthen until I want to scream. Until I’m tempted to knock his hands away and rip off the robe myself just to get it over with. The suspense is killing me.

It's almost a relief when he finally loosens the knot. I don’t realize that my hands have settled over his larger ones until the warmth of his flesh registers, seeping into my bones. My breath stalls as I wait to see what he’ll do. As if by reflex, my fingers tighten around his. Even though I’m blindfolded and can’t see my surroundings, I can almost feel the heat of his gaze licking over the lower portion of my face.


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