Page 29 of Blindside Me (Cessna U Hockey #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Drew

The door clicks shut behind us, locking me in, locking her in, and I know I’m already too far gone it’s laughable to pretend otherwise.

Jade stands there, chest heaving, lips parted, looking at me like she feels it too—the chaos, the inevitability, the wreckage.

I didn’t drag her back here to kiss her.

I didn’t drag her back here to fall apart.

I only intended to talk to her, confirm what I had heard was real.

But the second my hand touched her, all my reasons, all my rules, every goddamn thing I’ve built my life around crumbled.

Before I can think, my hands are on her hips and lifting her as if I’ll forget how to breathe if I don’t touch her right now.

Her back hits the wall, and it’s like I am crossing every boundary I ever swore I would respect.

“I was supposed to let you go,” I whisper, my voice rough. “Walk away. Do the right thing.”

Instead, I’m here, ruining everything and not giving a damn.

My hands find her face, and I crash my mouth against hers. It’s pure need bleeding into every touch. I taste mint on her tongue, feel the softness of her lips, and something wild tears through me. This isn’t just a want. It’s a need. A craving so deep it scares the shit out of me.

I can no longer pretend I don’t care. I notice every tiny detail.

The way her hands fist my hair.

The gasp that escapes her as our lips meet.

The way her body leans into mine, echoing the same hunger, and these details shatter me even more.

Jade’s fingers curl into my T-shirt, bunching the fabric at my chest. Not pushing me away but pulling me closer. Like she’s as desperate as I am, and that destroys me all over again.

The rough cinder blocks must be scraping her back through her thin shirt, but she arches toward me, pressing her body against mine like she can’t get close enough. Like she feels this too. This impossible, consuming thing between us.

“We shouldn’t,” I mutter against her mouth, even as my hands slide down to her waist. “I shouldn’t.”

“Then stop,” she challenges, pulling back just enough to look at me, her breath warm against my lips.

I can’t. That’s the fucking problem. I can’t stop wanting her. Can’t stop thinking about her. Can’t stop imagining what we could be if I weren’t who I am.

My thumb traces her jawline. It’s so delicate compared to the hard angles I’m used to.

It’s nothing like elbows in the ribs during practice or shoulders slamming me into boards.

Her skin is impossibly soft. I notice everything.

The flush spreading across her cheeks. The slight tremble in her hands that still grip my T-shirt.

The way her chest rises and falls with each quick breath.

I lean in again, slower this time, watching her eyes flutter closed.

Our lips connect, and it’s still urgent but less frantic.

I’m memorizing everything about her, like the slight sound she makes when I tease her bottom lip with my teeth and the way her body melts against mine when my tongue slides against hers.

We pull apart just enough to breathe. Our foreheads touch. The intimacy of that simple contact hits harder than the kiss. Her breath mingles with mine. We stay suspended in this moment, my hands at her waist with hers still clutching my shirt.

“You don’t even know me,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

She reaches up, her fingers tracing along my jaw, gentle, so fucking gentle it nearly breaks me. “I see you, Drew. The real you. Not the hockey star everyone else wants you to be.”

And that’s it. That’s what terrifies me.

How can she know? How can she see through everything I’ve built around myself when people who’ve known me my whole life don’t?

Coaches, teammates, and scouts all see the player, the prospect, and the investment.

My dad sees the son he sacrificed everything for. No one sees just Drew.

No one but her.

“What if the real me isn’t worth shit?” The question burns in my throat.

Her thumb brushes my cheekbone. “I think you’re worth everything.”

I close my eyes, letting her words sink in. The honesty in her voice cuts through all my defenses. How can someone who barely knows me understand me better than people I've known my entire life? It makes no sense. It terrifies me.

“I’m supposed to focus on hockey. I need to get invited to the combine. Everything I’ve worked for my entire life is right in front of me.” My voice is raw, exposed. “I can’t fuck it up now.”

“I know,” she says, and I believe she does. She gets what this means to me.

I rest my palm against her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. My thumb brushes her bottom lip, watching as her eyes darken. “You’re not part of the plan, Jade.”

“Plans change,” she whispers.

Plans change. Fuck. If I let her in, my whole life changes.

“Not mine. Not after everything…”

Her hand slides up my chest, over my racing heart. “Then why are we here, Drew?”

I don’t have an answer. At least, not one that makes sense. Not one that fits into the careful path I’ve laid out for myself: practice, train, get drafted, sign a contract, make it all worth something. Jade doesn’t fit anywhere in that equation. She’s the variable I never accounted for.

Yet here I am, pressed against her in a storage closet, unable to walk away.

For a split second, images flash through my mind.

Coach Howell’s disappointed face if he knew I was here with his niece.

The exhausting grind of the combine looming ahead.

The NHL contract I’ve chased since I was old enough to hold a stick.

My dad’s face when I make it, when all our sacrifices finally pay off.

None of it matters when she looks at me like this.

“I can’t choose,” I admit, voice breaking. “Between hockey and … this. You.”

Her eyes soften. “I’m not asking you to.”

But that’s the thing … she doesn’t have to ask. Just being with her divides me. Splits my focus. Makes me question everything I thought I wanted. And I’ve never been anything but single-minded when it comes to my goals.

Until now. Until her.

I kiss her again, but it’s different this time. Slower. Deeper. My hands slide down to her hips, lifting her easily. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I press her back against the wall, supporting her weight. We fit together perfectly, and the realization sends a jolt through me.

“Drew,” she gasps against my mouth.

I trail kisses down her neck, breathing in the vanilla scent of her skin.

She’s so goddamn delicious smelling. I grip her thighs and hold her against me.

The heat of her body permeating through our clothes is hot, but it’s the subtle shift of her hips seeking friction that leaves me moaning. The rush hits so hard my ribs ache.

I can’t have her, not fully, not here, not like this. But I can worship her and claim her in other ways. Show her what she does to me. What she means to me.

“You undo me,” I murmur against her throat. “Everything I thought I knew. Everything I thought I wanted.”

Her fingers weave through my hair, yanking hard enough to make me gasp. I look up at her, and fucking hell, those eyes, blue like a summer sky, but darker, hungrier. She’s got this quiet power in her like she could ruin me with a glance, but instead, she’s choosing not to. Yet.

“I’m not asking for forever,” she says, her voice low, teasing. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and I’m already half-hard just from that little fucking move.

“That’s the problem,” I growl, pressing my forehead to hers. Her breath hitches, warm and sweet, against my mouth. “I’m starting to think hockey isn’t enough.”

Her eyes widen, and fuck, I love that look. That shock . Like she’s just realized she’s got me by the balls, literally.

“You’re serious,” she whispers, her hands sliding down to my shoulders, her nails digging in just enough to leave marks.

I don’t answer with words. Instead, I slam her back against the wall of the storage room, my hands cupping her face, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. She’s soft, so fucking smooth, but there’s steel underneath. I can feel it in the way she arches into me, her hips grinding against mine.

“I was so goddamn pissed when I found out you were the Coach’s niece,” I admit, my voice rough. “Thought you’d be a distraction.”

She stiffens for a second, but then she grins, that fucking wicked grin that drives me insane. “And now?”

“Now,” I growl, my lips brushing hers, “you’re the only thing I want.”

Her hands slide down my chest, over the hard lines of my abs. She doesn’t stop until she’s palming the bulge in my jeans, and holy fuck, I nearly lose it right there.

“If we do this…” she starts, her voice trembling slightly.

“Your uncle will kill me,” I finish for her, my breath hitching as she rubs me through the denim. “My teammates will never let me hear the end of it.”

She shrugs, her hand moving to my belt buckle, popping it open with a practiced ease that makes me jealous of every guy who came before me. “Are you ready for that?”

I should say no. I should walk away, pull my shit together, and get back to the rink. But then her fingers are slipping inside my waistband, wrapping around my cock, and all rational thought evaporates.

“Fuck no,” I groan, my hips thrusting into her hand. “But I’m tired of holding back. I’m all in, Trouble.”

“Good.” She laughs, a low, throaty sound that goes straight to my dick. “It’s about time you caught up.”

Then she’s on me. Her mouth crashes into mine. She slides her tongue against my lips until I let her in. She tastes so goddamn good, there isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be.

I lift her up, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carry her to the nearest flat surface.

It’s not romantic, but neither are we. She doesn’t seem to care.

Her hands are already tearing at my shirt, pulling it over my head, and then her nails are scraping down my chest, leaving red trails that sting in the best way.

“You’re a mess,” she whispers against my neck, her teeth grazing my skin.

“You fucking love it,” I rasp, my hands sliding under her shirt, finding the clasp of her bra. It’s a cheap move, but I don’t care. I need to feel her skin against mine.

She gasps as I unhook it, her breasts spilling into my hands. They’re perfect. All soft and full. Her nipples harden under my touch. I lean down, taking one into my mouth, sucking hard enough to make her cry out.

“Jesus,” she moans, her fingers tangling in my hair again, pulling hard.

I switch to the other nipple, flicking it with my tongue until she’s squirming against me. Her hips grind into mine, and I can feel how wet she is through her jeans. It’s fucking torture.

“Off,” I demand, tugging at her waistband.

She doesn’t argue. She shimmies out of her jeans and panties in one smooth motion, and then she’s naked except for that damn shirt. It’s obscene, the way it hangs off her shoulders, barely covering her tits.

I strip out of my jeans in record time, my cock springing free, thick and throbbing. She bites her lip when she sees it, her eyes darkening with need.

“Fuck me,” she whispers, spreading her legs wider.

I don’t need to be told twice. As soon as I don the condom, I slide into her in one smooth thrust, and fuck, she’s so tight, so warm, so wet. Her walls clamp around me like a vise, and I have to stop for a second to keep from embarrassing myself right then and there.

“Fuck, you’re tight. I need to savor you for a second.”

“You’re bigger than my ex. I’m not used to this size.”

I let out a low, steady growl. Nothing better strokes a man’s ego than the words “bigger than my ex.”

“You’re so damn hot.”

“Then move,” she begs, her nails digging into my back.

I do. I fuck her hard and fast, every thrust driving her deeper into the stacks of papers. She’s so fucking loud, moans and whimpers spilling from her lips like a goddamn symphony.

“You feel so good,” I groan, my hips slamming into hers. “So fucking good.”

Her hands are everywhere, my chest, my ass, pulling me closer, deeper. She’s so freaking close. I feel it in the way the small spasms clutch around my cock.

She whimpers.

“You like this? You like my big cock filling you up?” When she nods, I continue, “Then be a good girl and come for me.”

That does it.

She comes hard. Her body trembles around me as her pussy clamps down on my cock like she wants to milk every last drop out of me.

I can’t hold back anymore. I bury myself deep inside her and come with a roar, my whole body shaking as I empty myself into her.

When it’s over, we’re both panting, sweaty, and wrecked. Her legs are still wrapped around me, and I don’t have the strength or the willpower to pull out just yet.

“You undid me,” I whisper, my voice rough.

She smiles up at me, her fingers tracing my jaw. “Maybe that’s exactly what you needed.”

And fuck if she isn’t right.