Ty lifted his head and stared down at her, his breathing rough and choppy. “I can’t wait any longer.”

“Yes,” she managed through her labored breath. Lust, hot and liquid, rushed through her veins, burning away everything but the need for him.

He stepped out of his shoes and reached for his wallet as she unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down his muscular thighs. His boxer briefs went next, and she reached for him and ran her palm up the long heated shaft. A drop of moisture rested in the cleft of the plump, succulent head and she spread it with her thumb. “You’re a beautiful man, Mr. Savage. Don’t finish before the race is over.”

“I’m a professional.” He sucked in a breath and pushed her hands away. “I don’t pull the trigger early.” He unrolled the condom down to the base of his penis. “Slide those panties down. Unless you want them ripped off.” He looked up. “Keep the shoes on.”

She pushed the thong down her legs and kicked it aside. Then he reached for her and ran his hands down her bottom to the backs of her thighs. He lifted and she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist. He pinned her back against the cool glass.

Faith ran her hands through his hair and kissed his mouth as he lowered her onto his erection. A

stitch of pain brought her head up as he entered her. She sucked in her breath and held it, the big head of his penis slid up into her, stretching her tight flesh.

“Ty.”

“It’s okay. I’ll make it good for you. Just stay with me, Faith. Don’t stop me now.” And then he was buried to the hilt and he was true to his word, he made it good for her. Her bare stomach stuck to his as he ground his pelvis into hers. He pulled out, then plunged deep inside, touching her cervix and all the hot, tingling places inside.

“Mmmm, yes,” she whispered. “That feels good.” He moved again. “Like that. Right there. Don’t stop. You make it good, Ty.” In and out he thrust, and her breathing grew choppy, her skin tight as he pushed her faster and harder toward release.

“How good?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

“It’s so hot. So good. Don’t stop. Faster. Yes.” She sucked in a deep breath as he thrust into her harder and harder. His powerful muscles tightened, flexed, with each drive of his hips.

Her whole world narrowed and centered on Ty and where his body joined hers, stroking her inside and teasing her G-spot. Liquid fire poured through her body and burned her up from the inside out. Hot tingles spread across her flesh and she couldn’t remember sex ever being this good.

This intense. Maybe it had, but she didn’t think she’d ever been so absolutely consumed with the intense pleasure, wanting it so much that nothing else mattered. She opened her mouth to tell him not to stop. Before she managed to get the words from her throat, the first wave of orgasm hit. She moaned or screamed or something as it pulled her down and the scalding flames licked her body. Her heart pounded in her ears as Ty pounded into her body, untamed and unleashed in a hot sexual storm of hands and mouths and Ty’s enormous hard-on. Beautiful and intense and painfully sweet. Over and over, and it seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough. Her legs tightened around his waist as she rode out the last throbbing pulsations.

“Faith.” His breathing was heavy and strained. “You’re beautiful. Tight. Jesus.” Then he gave one long groan as if he’d pushed a boulder up a hill and heaved it over the other side.

When it was over and the night air began to cool her skin, Ty kissed the crook of her neck and she said, “Thank you. That was wonderful.”

He lifted his head and looked into her face. “This isn’t over,” he said.

She smiled. “No?”

“I’m sure we’ll probably regret this in the morning.” He lifted her off his still hard penis and set her on her feet. “We have a box of condoms and about six hours of really inappropriate sex to get busy on before sunup.” He pushed a strand of hair from the corner of her mouth. “If we’re going to regret it, let’s do something to really be ashamed aboat.”

Several hours later, Faith stood on the small putting green in Ty’s media room, wearing nothing but his blue dress shirt and red toenail polish. Her blonde hair fell down her back and she looked stunning and beautiful, especially for a woman who’d already made love three times that night. The last in his spa tub while little bubbles of air brushed their skin in interesting places.

“I remember now why I hate golf.” She held his club in her hands and gave an irritated shrug of her shoulders as his dress shirt rode up her thighs.

She was every fantasy that he’d ever had of her. Only much more, because she was softer and hotter and better in bed. It had been hard enough to keep his hands to himself before he’d made love to her. In a few hours he was going to give her up, and he didn’t fool himself that it would be easy. Perhaps if he just saw her as Playmate. As great tits and ass, but he didn’t. Somehow in the past few weeks, he’d grown to like her. Quite a lot.

“My boobs get in the way.”

Ty stepped behind her. “Let me help you with that.” He slid his hand beneath her arms and cupped her breasts. The back of his dress shirt brushed his bare chest. “Now try.”

She laughed as she swung and the ball flew toward the net. The radar registered twenty-five. “That’s worse than last time. There’s no help. My boobs are too big.”

“You’re not too big.” Round and white with tight pink nipples that fit perfectly into his mouth. “You’re perfect.” He wore a pair of old Levi’s and she nestled her behind into him. Like she had at the solarium, when he’d had incredible sex with her against the glass, a million stars about her head and the Seattle skyline around her body. It was the wildest lay he’d ever had, and he’d had a lot of wild lays in his thirty-five years. “You just need a man with big hands.”

She chuckled and lined up another ball. “Okay, but no distractions.”

“I’ll behave.”

“I saw Caddy Shack. There’s no talking in golf.”

She swung back and he whispered next to her ear, “I want to eat your bald peach.” The club flew out of her hands and landed across the room.

She turned and looked up at him. “I thought you were going to behave.”

“I am.”

“There’s no talking while someone is swinging.”

“I was whispering. That’s allowed on some courses.” He pointed at the ground. “My putting green. My rules.”

“You didn’t mention any rules.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts and looked up at him through her sparkling green eyes. “What are your other rules?”

“Women have to play naked.”

She tilted her head to one side and tried not to smile up at him. “How many women have played on your stupid little putting green?”

“I’m going to let the ‘stupid’ comment slide ’cause I like you.”

“How many women have had to get naked, Savage?”

“Just you.” He grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled her close. “You’re special.”

She slid her fingers up his arms to his shoulders and the diamonds on her wedding ring sparkled in the light. “What time is it?”

He wished she’d take the damn thing off. It sort of made him feel like he was doing a married woman. “Around three.”

“I better go. You have a practice and a hockey game to win tonight.”

“The practice isn’t for twelve hours.” He dropped his hands to her hips and he pulled the shirt up. “I have plenty of time to sleep and only about an hour left to have sex.” He patted her bare behind. “You need to get busy.”

She shook her head as she ran her fingers through the sides of his hair. “I don’t want to deplete all your strength. You’re going to need it against Detroit’s blue line.”

“I have untapped reserves. I’m like Superman. Just when I think I’m spent, I tap into it and kick ass and take names.”

She laughed like he was joking. “Well, I don’t want to jinx you. I know all you hockey players are superstitious.”

Ty wasn’t as superstitious as some of the guys. He just didn’t need any distractions. Detroit was going to bring their A-game, and he had to be ready. Physically and mentally. “Once I get my head in the game, I’m hard to knock off the puck,” he said as he pulled her against the front of his jeans.

She lifted a brow. “You’re hard again.”

“Watching you play golf turned me on.”

“Was it my brilliant backswing?”

“Your swing sucks.” He shook his head and lowered his face to hers. “It was your brilliant back side,” he said against the corner of her pouty mouth.

“When does your father usually get home?”

“He’s here by six. We have time.”

She ran her hand down his side, over his tattoo. “Did this hurt?”

He sucked in a breath as her palm slid to his belly. “Not as bad as a broken ankle.”

“You broke your ankle?” she asked as she placed little kisses along his jaw. “When?”

“2001. Third round, Game Two against the Devils.”

“What happened here?” She kissed his chin and slipped her hand down the front of his pants.

“I got hard watching you play golf.”

She laughed and wrapped her palm around the head of his dick. “I know that. I’m asking about your scar.”

That had happened so long ago, he never thought about it these days. “High stick. Claude Lemieux. 1998. Post-season game against Colorado. Twenty stitches.”

“Ouch.” She slid her mouth to the side of his throat as her free hand unbuttoned his pants. “I’ve never broken a bone or had stitches.” His pants slid from his hips and pooled about his bare feet. “Just have the one tattoo,” she said.

He’d noticed the Playboy bunny in the small of her back. “And it’s sexy as hell,” he managed as she sucked his neck.

“Virgil hated it.” She kissed her way across his shoulder and down his chest. “He didn’t want anyone to know about it. He said classy girls don’t get tattoos.”