Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
He pulled out and flopped on the bed, motioning for me to straddle his legs. “Ride me, baby. Ride me hard.”
I lifted up and down, jerking myself with short strokes while he fucked me from below, hitting my prostate again and again and…
That was it for me. My orgasm sent me reeling. I collapsed over Jett, shooting across his chest as he came inside me.
Let me just say that my name had never sounded so good on anyone else’s lips. Mal-colm, Mal-colm. Not Maloney…Malcolm.
Rain battered our hotel window, and wind whistled through the trees outside, but we were warm and content under the covers. I lost count of how many times we’d had sex, but it was pretty much the only real activity on our agenda. Well, we talked too—a continuation of our lighthearted banter at the café.
It was surreal to lie with Jett and not worry about anything intruding. I’d never spent this much time with someone and felt so…connected.
No, no. I wasn’t delusional. An overnight trip with lots of sex in a hotel room didn’t change our circumstances. I simply hadn’t counted on how nice it felt not to have to hide or make excuses to be seen together. We could just be. If our fingers touched on the café table and our knees brushed under it, there was no one who’d care. If we walked too close or kissed on campus—
Gasp! That had happened.
“You kissed me in public.”
Jett widened his eyes playfully, but his expression dimmed slightly. “It felt like the right thing to do.”
“No one saw,” I assured him. “No one who knows us.”
“I know.” He scratched his head and shrugged. “To be honest, I hadn’t been thinking about anyone else. Only you.”
Only you.
Jett smiled, gestured toward the gray skies outside our window, and suggested ordering room service for dinner. Food was the last thing on my mind, but I liked the idea of staying in this cocoon all night.
Only us.
The real world could wait.
CHAPTER 18
JETT
The Bears’ sweet winning streak continued, and yours truly had been a fucking scoring machine. Seriously. I’d scored a goal at every game since our weekend off…and my trip to see St. Clement’s with Malcolm.
And get this, I’d had a hat trick in a nail-biter against Granville last night. An honest-to-God hat trick.
I was on fire!
Holiday season hockey could be a little distracting with family obligations and an uptick in parties. For me…it was the same as usual—with the added bonus of marathon text sessions with Malcolm, who’d gone home to be with his family.
Ty’s folks had invited a few of the guys to join them for Thanksgiving dinner at a fancy restaurant in town. It had been a nice night with easy conversation. When the meal was over, I’d spent the rest of the evening messaging Malcolm. All in all, a decent Thanksgiving.
Unfortunately, it was harder to avoid my parents at Christmas. I’d flown to Michigan for a fancy meal at my dad’s where we’d all dressed up and worn plastic smiles. Then I’d headed for Toronto to hang out with my mom in front of her television eating Chinese takeout in my sweats as she’d sipped vodka from a coffee mug and tearfully reminisced about the good ol’ days.
I couldn’t wait to get back to Smithton.
While my teammates recounted funny exploits with long-lost cousins and lamented eating five pieces of Grandma’s apple pie, I worked on my shot. I slammed puck after puck into the net, hoping to block out tense conversations with my dad about my career—You know you can’t live on an ECHL salary, right?—and my mom’s bitter musings: I wish I’d done things differently. I wish I’d listened to my instincts about your father.
There was no point in telling my dad I’d find a way to make it work if I were offered a contract, and that with any luck it would lead to the AHL. He’d say I was a dreamer, completely oblivious to real life. And it never did any good to remind my mother that she’d been divorced for fifteen years, Dad had moved on, and maybe she should do the same.
Depressing shit. I’d spent the whole fucking holiday wishing I was with Malcolm.
I’d lived for his rambling texts about binging holiday movies and being coerced into playing Monopoly with his folks and his normally trustworthy sister he was now convinced was a merciless boardgame cheater. I’d read the familial affection in every eye-roll emoji and wished I could be a fly on their wall. I’d give anything to know what it was like to hang out with the Maloneys.
Since I was alone most of the time, I concentrated on staying fit, healthy, and focused. I exercised like a madman but took care of my knee with massages, ice baths, soaks in the hot tub, and acupuncture. I kept my mind active too, reading and catching up on movies I’d missed instead of partying like a rock star. I wasn’t asocial. I still showed up to a couple of Langley’s keggers…but I left after a beer or two. I’d become an expert at detaching myself from clingy puck bunnies.