Page 53 of Blindside Me (Cessna U Hockey #3)

Drew flips us, so I’m on my back, pressing his weight to hold me down, but the grip is gentle.

Like he knows I could throw him off if I wanted, but I never would.

His hands frame my face, and he kisses me everywhere but my lips.

A line along my jaw, my collarbone, and the hollow at my throat, until I’m arching up, desperate to drag his mouth to mine.

He makes me wait, teeth grazing the sensitive part of my shoulder, tongue soothing the bite, and only then, when I’m squirming, does he finally kiss me, hard and deep and unapologetic.

There’s no more teasing. He’s in me on the first thrust, and it’s perfect, just that right balance of stretch and fullness, the kind that always undoes me.

I lock my ankles behind his back and grind up, and he groans, the sound low and almost feral in my ear.

He fucks me like he’s staking a claim. Slow at first, each stroke deliberate and then faster as he loses his composure, his control fraying with every slap of skin on skin.

I rake my nails down his spine, and he shudders. I want to mark him, leave evidence, the same way he marks me. I want every girl in the world to look at him and know he’s taken, that I’m the one who gets to see him like this, messy and undone, nothing left of the perfect hockey robot except need.

He changes angles, and the friction hits just right. I bite his shoulder to stifle the scream, and he fucks into me even harder, chasing my high until we both come undone.

We come down from the clouds, both panting and spent.

“That was…” I start, but the words are gone.”

He finishes for me. “Perfect. Even if you keep rearranging my protein powders.”

I snort, too happy to argue. “Next time I’m putting them in color order. Just to see if your head explodes.”

He grins, breathless, and fumbles for the blanket, yanking it over us.

We could stay like this forever. And for the first time in my life, forever doesn’t sound like something to be afraid of.

He’s tracing idle patterns on my bare back, slow and steady, when he says, “You really did it. You wrote the thing.”

“I did.”

“Proud of you,” he says, and I know he means it because that’s what Drew does. He always says what he means, exactly.

“Thanks,” I mutter, but it feels bigger than just a thank you. It’s an apology for ever doubting him.

I tuck into his side, cheek against the steady beat of his heart.

The vision board catches my eye from across the room.

His combine badge, pinned next to the Manhattan skyline, gleams with the promise of sold-out rinks and roaring crowds.

My Paris sketch and the bookstore clipping aren’t someday-things anymore; we penciled dates in the margins.

We’re both chasing big stuff, but it’s the part where we chase it together that settles me.

“New York’s gonna be chaos,” I murmur, half to myself. “You, tearing up the ice, and me, signing books and dodging paparazzi.”

He chuckles, breath warm against my hair. “Paparazzi? You’re getting ahead of yourself, bestseller.”

“Maybe.” I trace the scar on his eyebrow. “But I’m not scared of it. Not anymore. Not with you.”

He pulls me closer and kisses my hairline. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” In this blissful moment, the weight of our pasts, my mom’s absence, and his brother’s shadow are still there, but lighter.

I used to think love was a finish line, something you either won or lost. But with Drew, it’s the daily choice to show up, to stay, to pin our dreams to a board, and believe they’re possible.

His hand finds mine, fingers lacing tight. We’re not running anymore. Not from each other. Not from ourselves.

“Whatever’s next,” he says, voice low, “we’ve got this. Together.”

I nod, my throat too tight for words, and press my lips to his chest, right over his heart. We’re building this life together. It’s messy and imperfect, but ours.

The apartment goes still, but it’s the good kind. It’s like the world remembers how to breathe. I’m about to drift off when my phone buzzes on the nightstand. Then, his vibrates next.

Drew and I look at each other. He reaches mine first, flips it so I can see the screen.

From: Harper, Tree Line Agency

Subject: BLINDSIDE ME — call me when you can (good news).

My heart races. Drew’s phone lights up again. He glances down, and everything in his face changes, from shock to something brighter.

“Who is it?” I ask, even though I already know.

He swallows. “Coach. And … the New York office.”

For a beat, neither of us moves. The vision board watches from the wall—his badge, my sketch, our skyline.

Drew threads our fingers together, palm to palm, the way he does when he wants me steady. “List or vision board?” he asks, voice low, eyes shining.

“Both,” I say, and we start to rise.

The universe hums under my skin. Coffee cooling on the table. Two messages lighting up our future. Not a finale—an invitation.

“Ready?” he asks.

I squeeze his hand. “Always.”

Thanks so much for reading Drew and Jade’s story. I hope you fell in love with them as much as I did!