“Wanna guess which one’s my favorite?”

“You have a favorite?”

I nod, then tug on the bottom of his shirt.

“What’re you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I can’t show you my favorite tattoo when half of them are covered by your shirt.” I’m full of shit. Most of his tattoos are visible, except for the ones on his shoulder. But now that we’re talking about tattoos and I’m thinking about how much I love the way his arm looks when he’s using his fingers to get me off, or holding on to my boob when he takes me from behind, I figure getting closer to naked is a good plan.

“Oh. Well, then.” He raises his arms over his head. The sudden movement startles Wiener. He barks and jumps off the couch, pacing around Randy’s feet before he trots off.

I take advantage of the newly available space and straddle Randy’s thighs. He’s already sporting a semi. It’s straining against his pajama pants. The elastic waist is super convenient. I lift his shirt, exposing the defined ridges of his abs until his man nipples come into view. I might run into those with my nails, just to watch his abs flex.

Randy’s body is insane. He’s all cut lines and lean muscle. He’s put on a little weight since it’s off-season and his workout schedule is a lot lighter, so he’s a bit bulkier right now.

I, on the other hand, am struggling to keep my weight from dropping thanks to Randy’s ultra-high sex drive. Apparently when he’s not expending energy on the ice, he needs to find a way to get rid of it. Getting freaky with me happens to be one of his preferred ways.

I pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the floor. I’ve messed up his beard and hair on purpose so I can perform one of my favorite pre-sex activities. Before Randy can fix his face, I run my fingers through his hair, and then smooth out his beard with my fingernails.

He makes this deep sound in his throat, somewhere between a man-purr and a growl, as he runs his palms up my bare legs, stopping just before the hem of my shorts. So I keep stroking his beard a while longer.

When I stop, he grabs my wrists. “You should keep doing that.”

I lean in until I can feel his hard-on between my legs. It’s not a semi anymore. Now it’s a fully. “I thought we were talking about my favorite tattoo,” I whisper, my lips close to his.

“I thought that was a bullshit excuse to get my shirt off.”

“That’s because all you think about is sex and hockey.”

“Not true. I have other thoughts.”

“Such as?” I drop a kiss on his neck, right where his beard ends.

“Such as how long it’s going to take for you to stop pretending you’re not ogling my chest.”

“You’re pretty full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Not as full as you’re going to be pretty fucking soon.” He slips his hands under my shirt.

I clamp my elbows against my ribs to prevent him from getting it over my head. “Oh? You think so, eh?”

Since I’m barring his way under my shirt, he goes for my shorts instead. “Are you even wearing panties?”

“We’re not talking about my wardrobe choices right now; we’re talking about my favorite tattoo.” I don’t stop him from feeling his way around in there, but much to my vagina’s disappointment, as well as the rest of me, he doesn’t make a move to verify my lack of panties.

“You should hurry up and do that so I can tell you about all my favorite Lily parts.”

“Don’t you want to guess?” I run my fingers through his hair one more time, skimming the short sides with my pinkies. Even his hair is sexy.

“Sure. If it gets us past this part of your foreplay faster.”

“Who says this is even going to lead to sex? Maybe I just feel like talking tonight.”

Randy’s brow lifts, then furrows. “You’re kidding, right?”

I slow-blink at him and give him my best fake-confused face. “Just because I’m sitting in your lap and you have your shirt off doesn’t mean we have to get totally naked.”

He nods somberly, but I can tell he doesn’t buy it for a second. And he shouldn’t. “Of course not. You can wear your shorts if you want to, even if that makes it more difficult for me.”

I snicker and follow the contour of his abs down to the waistband of his pants. I take my time, because—as stated earlier—Randy’s abs are incredible. He has the most amazing six-pack in the world. I like it best when it’s flexed, either because I’m riding him or he’s riding me.

“How about if you guess right, I have to do whatever you want tonight, but if you guess wrong, you have to do whatever I want?”

He’s focused on my fingers, which are trailing back and forth along the waistband of his pants. His eyes lift, his expression devious. “If I guess right, I get whatever I want?”

“Within reason.”

I can practically see his wheels turning. “Just to be clear, we’re talking about sex, right?”

“Sex? I was talking about board games. I was thinking Monopoly would be fun. You know how that can go on forever and ever.”

Randy grabs me by the waist and flips me over so I’m sprawled on the couch. I don’t have time to get my legs closed before he gets between them and stretches out on top of me.

I put my hands on his chest and push, but he’s heavy. “Hey! We’re having a conversation, remember?”

“There will be no Monopoly tonight,” he growls.

“There will be if you guess wrong,” I threaten.

He pushes up so he’s doing a one-armed plank. Holding his tattooed hand in front of my face he wiggles his fingers. “I’m going to say this one.”

“You’re so smart.” I lift my head enough to bite one of his knuckles. “Do you know why it’s my favorite?”

“Because it’s like I have your name tattooed on my hand?” The flower is a lily. Since we started dating, I’ve come to discover it’s his mother’s favorite, and that’s why it’s there. But I like that there’s an unintentional connection to me, and that sometimes people come to the inaccurate conclusion that he had it put there because it represents me.

“If I say yes, does that make me egotistical?” I’m working really hard to keep my legs from wrapping around his waist.