“As opposed to guys without penises?” He smiles, but his humor doesn’t linger. “I’m sorry, Hottie. That sucks.” He reaches out as if to touch me, but then thinks better of it and drops his arm to his side.
We’re on the front steps of the Bright-Landry Hockey Center, which feels like absolute blasphemy. Luckily, none of his teammates are around. When I called him, he admitted that practice ended hours ago and he’d stayed behind to watch game tape on his own. That’s dedication. And while I admire it, that also means I have to meet him here instead of his condo. The condo would have been highly preferable.
To add insult to injury, the sky decides to mimic my mood, taking this exact moment as opportunity to dump a mountain of rain on us. It’s been cloudy and chilly all day, but suddenly the sky is black and it’s pouring buckets, soaking our hair in seconds.
“Come inside,” Jake urges, grabbing my hand.
We rush into the building, where I cringe at the sight of the championship pennants and all the framed crimson jerseys. “What if someone sees us?” I hiss as I shove my damp hair away from my forehead.
“Then they see us. Who cares? We’re just talking, right?”
“I feel exposed. We’re too out in the open,” I grumble.
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Let’s go to the media room. It’s private and I’m the only one in there.”
I follow him down the hall, my gaze eating up his long stride. It’s been less than a week since I last saw him, and somehow I forgot how tall he is, how attractive. He didn’t hug or kiss me hello. I didn’t hug or kiss him hello, either. Now I kinda wish I had.
In a state-of-the-art media room that rivals the one we have at Briar, I unzip my leather jacket and drape it over the back of a nearby chair. Then I plop into one of the plush chairs and stick out my chin glumly. “I really wanted that internship.”
“I know you did.” Jake settles in the chair next to mine, stretching those impossibly long legs out in front him. “But maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Even if he hadn’t been your direct supervisor, you still would’ve had to interact with Mulder. And that guy is the worst.”
“True.” I suddenly notice the image on the big screen. It’s Hunter Davenport’s lean body crouching during a faceoff. “Spying, are we?” I crack.
“It’s not spying, it’s due diligence. And don’t tell me your boys aren’t doing the exact same thing right now.”
“Well, I didn’t come here to reveal Briar secrets, so don’t ask me anything about my boys.”
He glances over, his chiseled face serious. “Then why are you here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, your cousin lives in the city. And I assume you have other friends here, too.”
“So?”
“So why was I the first person you called after you got the bad news?”
I flick my gaze to his. “You don’t know that you’re the first person I called. Maybe nobody else picked up.”
“Did you call anybody else?” Jake asks politely.
“No,” I admit, which forces me to look inward, because why did I call him? We went on a couple of dates, talked on the phone a few times, fooled around a time or two. There is no reason why Jake should have been my go-to comfort person today. I have a good support system—Summer, Audrey, Elisa, to name a few. Why didn’t I reach out to any of them?
“Why me?” he pushes.
I let out a frazzled breath. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” He chuckles softly. “You like me.”
“I don’t like you.”
“Yes, you do. That’s why you kicked me out last week.”
“No, I kicked you out because my father was standing outside the door while we were sixty-nine-ing.”
Jake makes a growly sound. “You just had to bring that up.”
“What, my father?”
“No, what we were doing.” His eyes gleam seductively. “Now I’m hard.”
“I feel like you’re always hard,” I grumble back.
“Come here and test that theory.” He pats his lap, while enticingly waggling his eyebrows.
I can’t stop a laugh. “What theory? You already admitted to being hard.”
He crosses his ankles together, staring down at his Converse sneakers for a few seconds. “Okay. So you’re saying you threw me out because your father almost caught us.”
“Yup.”
That’s not entirely true. I kicked him out because I refused to show him any more vulnerability. In the span of an hour or two, I allowed him to see how badly I wanted him, how wildly he turned me on. I allowed him to overhear a mortifying exchange with my father, in which I was admonished like a child and accused of being a train wreck.
I don’t want anybody else, let alone a guy, to ever view me the way my father does.
I feel Jake’s gaze on me. “What?” I mutter.
“I don’t believe what you’re saying.” His tone roughens. “What are you so afraid will happen if we keep seeing each other?”
“I’m not afraid. I simply don’t see the point when it can’t go anywhere.”
“Do you only spend time with guys you think it’ll go somewhere with?”
“No.”
He looks thoughtful. “C’mere.”
Before I can blink, he’s tugging me off my chair. I wind up in his lap, and the bulge in his jeans is impossible to miss or ignore. I sigh in resignation, adjusting my position so that I’m straddling him. His quickly growing erection is pressed directly against my core, and it feels so good I can’t help but rock against it.
Jake makes a husky sound. He slides one big hand to the base of my spine, while the other moves upward to tangle in my hair.
Against my better judgment, I lower my head. My tongue prods the seam of his lips, and he parts them to grant me access. I whimper when my tongue touches his. He tastes like mint gum and his lips are so soft and warm. I lock my hands around his neck, losing myself in the heat of him.
“Kissing you makes me so hard,” he murmurs.
“You were hard before I kissed you.”
“Yeah, because I was thinking about kissing you.”
I laugh, and it comes out a bit breathless. “You’re—” A crash of thunder drowns out my voice. The overhead lights flicker for a second.
Jake’s dark eyebrows fly up. “Shit, that was nuts.”
I stroke the wispy hairs at his nape. “Aw, Jakey. Are you scared?”
“Terrified,” he whispers.
Our lips meet at the same time the lights flicker again. This time they go out.
Darkness engulfs us. But instead of jumping up in a panic, we kiss harder. Jake’s hands travel beneath my black sweater. He pulls the thin material up to reveal my bra, but he doesn’t unclasp it, just pushes it down to reveal my boobs. Wet heat surrounds my nipple. He draws it deep in his mouth, and I shiver uncontrollably.
He squeezes my breasts while continuing to lave my nipple, licking and suckling until it grows impossibly harder in his mouth. I moan, louder than I should considering our surroundings.
Jake responds by capturing my other nipple and teasing it senseless. Then he gives an upward thrust, rubbing our lower bodies together. God. This guy. I’m so hot for him, it’s insane.
The room is still dark, but just when I’m starting to get used to it, the fluorescent lights flash back on.
Jake lifts his head, his gaze burning as he gets a nice eyeful of my chest. “So fucking beautiful.”
Groaning, he cups both my breasts before burying his face between them.
And that’s when Coach Pedersen walks into the room.
25
Jake
“For fuck’s sake, Connelly!”
At the incredulous exclamation, my head flies up and I swiftly shove Brenna’s sweater down to cover her bare tits. She dives off my lap and into the neighboring chair. But it’s too late. Pedersen’s not an idiot. He saw us, and he knows exactly what we were doing.
“Coach, hey.” I clear my throat. “We were…” I decide against lying. I’m not an idiot, either. “I’m sorry,” I say simply. “This isn’t the place.”
“No shit,” he snaps. “I’d expect this kind of behavior from Weston or Chilton, but not you, Connelly. You don’t usually screw around on the job.”
Coach doesn’t even acknowledge Brenna. He stalks to the front of the room and grabs one of the laptops. From the corner of my eye I see Brenna smoothing out the front of her sweater. She wiggles discreetly, and I realize she’s trying to put her bra cups back in place.
“I’m having a meeting with the assistants and forgot this,” he says tightly. “And here I thought you were being a conscientious player, studying film on your own time. But boys will be boys, won’t they?” There’s a sharp edge to his every word.
Brenna warily tracks his movements as he tucks the laptop under his arm and stalks to the door. “Get your guest out of here, Connelly. This is no place for girlfriends.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” Brenna blurts out, and I know it was completely involuntarily because she briefly closes her eyes, as if mentally scolding herself for speaking.
Pedersen finally spares her a look. A long, intent one. During his scrutiny, his frown gets deeper and deeper until his eyebrows are practically touching. “You’re Chad Jensen’s kid.”
Shit.