Page 114 of Daring the Hockey Player

I tremble and shudder, the orgasm ripping through me. His body above mine brings a newly heightened awareness—a warmth that encircles me like never before—as he collapses above.

Jasper pulls out, climbing off and removing the condom as he heads for the bathroom.

I'm still gasping for breath as I roll onto my side, watching him from the distance. "Is sex always that good?" I ask, breathing hard, my heart still racing in my chest.

"Most of the time." He chuckles and leans down, planting a kiss on my lips. His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my mouth closer. "It'll get even better."

My gaze tightens as I overanalyze his words. "What do you mean, better?" I can't imagine sex being better than what we just experienced unless I did something wrong. "Wait, was it bad for you?" I sit up in bed, dragging the covers up around myself.

"I've only had bad sex once or twice," he confesses and climbs onto the mattress. He stretches out beside me, pulling the covers from around my hips so that he can have some of the sheets.

"Was just now one of those times?" My voice catches in my throat, and I'm trying not to panic, but his answer has sent my heart racing and my mind spiraling.

"Of course not." He pulls me down to lie with him, rolling me onto my back and pinning me beneath him. "I promise you that it will always be amazing."

"You can't make that kind of promise," I say with a nervous laugh.

"Sure, I can. It's you and me. You're the hottest girl in the world, and, well, I'm pretty fucking hot myself."

I lean in, kissing Jasper. "I like how you're confident in your hotness," I say, smiling up at him.

He rolls onto his back, pulling me with him, his arms wrapped around my waist as one of my legs drapes over his. "I'm more confident in yours," he says. "Do you know that when I first saw you at the bar, I knew I wanted you?"

"What?" I laugh. "When I showed up after your game?" I'd already had a crush on him for months, not that I would ever tell him that embarrassing secret, like how I stalked him online.

"No, the first time. Remember that date you had at the bar?"

My eyes widen, and I scrunch them shut tightly as if that will rid myself of the memory of Tripp, who was quite a trip. "I really wish I could forget him."

Jasper chuckles. "Then, I apologize for mentioning him, but it was that night when I was watching you at the bar, I kept wondering if he was your boyfriend or just a date, until you bumped into me in the hallway and begged for my help."

"I didn't beg."

"Oh, you begged," Jasper recants. "It was cute and quite adorable in a 'save me' kind of way." He pulls me tighter against him, holding me in his arms.

I relax and chuckle, smiling at the memory of when I first met Jasper. "I didn't know that you had a hero complex."

Jasper stares at me. "I don't—" he whispers, but I can tell he's mulling it over. "But I admit that I can get jealous at times."

"Like with Atlas?"

"He's a douche. And my jealousy is one hundred percent warranted withhim. He stole my first girlfriend when we were thirteen."

I didn't realize their hatred went quite so far back. In fact, I hadn't been entirely sure they'd even known one another. I knew Knox played for their rival, but I wasn't sure how he knew Atlas. "Seriously?"

"I try not to hold a grudge," he says and nuzzles my neck, his breath warm and sending another round of tingles coursing through my body. "Especially because I have you. And trust me when I say that you're a million times hotter than she ever was."

Smiling, I shake my head. "She was also a kid. You haven't seen her in years. She could have grown up."

"She's a puck bunny, and trust me, you are, without a doubt, the hottest woman alive."

Wait. I make a face of disgust. "Does that mean you're attracted to a dead person? Is there something that you're not telling me?"

His body vibrates with laughter as he rolls me onto my back, and his fingers lightly graze my hips. I wiggle from his touch, and he raises an eyebrow, realizing what that means.

"Someone is ticklish," he says, watching me try to get away as he pins me to the mattress. But I honestly don't mind it. I squirm, attempting to break free, and his cell phone rings, saving me from any more agonizing torture, which I'm enjoying a little too much.

He grabs the phone from the bedside table, looking at the caller ID. "It's my brother," he grumbles and declines the call.