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I gasp. God, why does hearing him say that make me wetter? I know it’s just role-play, but I’m so into it.

Then he thrusts into me, faster this time, but not as fast as I need. I do everything I can to turn him on, wriggling, squeezing him inside me, telling him how much I love his cock. He breaks a little, and goes faster and deeper. I’m close again, and he can tell.

You ready, baby?

God, yes, I groan. It feels like all my sensations are centred in the place where we meet.

Jack leans down and whispers, I want to hear you scream my name when you come.

Now he’s on me like a maniac, thrusting hard and fast. His hands are everywhere, cupping my breasts, smacking my ass, and then finally stroking my clit.

All the while, he’s fucking me like a machine, and it feels so good.

I’m losing all self-control, and I can’t stop myself from crying out, babbling about how good it feels, how much I want him, what an amazing lover he is. I beg him not to stop.

When my orgasm finally comes, it’s a tsunami of sensation washing over my body. Jack, oh, god, Jack . Yes, yes, yes . I’m coming, I’m—oh, yes, Jack! I scream.

Jack comes at the same time, and collapses onto me.

We lie there for a few minutes, exhausted.

I hear him get up and discard the condom, then he slips into bed behind me.

He smooths the hair from my face and kisses my forehead.

There’s this warmth spreading through me.

I’ve been pretending it’s just an afterglow, but it’s something bigger.

For once, I’m hoping to hear something sweet and sentimental, because I’m ready now.

Missing Jack has made me realize how much I feel for him.

But all he does is pull me into him and hug me tighter.

Maybe it’s my fault for discouraging him, or maybe—after a weekend hockey tournament, a long road trip, and some very acrobatic sex—the poor guy is just exhausted. I close my eyes. We can talk tomorrow.

I OPEN ONE eye and see a…blurry shark? Am I having an underwater dream? Then I feel the weight of an arm draped across my chest. I open both eyes and see Jack, face down in his pillow and completely out.

I wriggle out from under his arm so I can sneak out to pee. Jack doesn’t stir. Phew. I complete my escape, stealing a T-shirt in case I run into his roommates. I return and sneak back into bed.

I can’t get back to sleep, even though it’s insanely early.

I’m too full of happy energy. I want Jack to wake up—I still have so much to tell him.

And we haven’t even discussed how well he played last night.

Of course, there are all the sentimental things I want to share with him.

I’m going to be a better girlfriend by sharing my feelings instead of repressing them, and I can’t help but want to start doing that right this minute.

Should I tell him how much I really missed him and that…

I might be in love with him? Because once I stopped worrying about the future and started living in the now, I appreciated how happy we are.

The whole time we were apart, life felt muted and colourless.

Sure, I was managing okay. But I missed the full spectrum of sunshine that Jack brings to each day.

Now I can see that what we have is big. Something like L-O-V-E.

Jack rolls over and for one exciting moment, I think he’s awake too. But no, he’s still sleeping—handsome-side-up now. Does the guy not even snore? I’m pretty sure that I snore and drool while I sleep.

Maybe I’ll wait until the next time he feels romantic, and I can echo his words of love back to him. That would be easier. But what if he doesn’t want to talk about love since I was so cold the first time? Maybe it’s all too soon, we just got back together.

But I promised to be all in. I stare up at the ceiling and practise declaring my feelings—mouthing the words silently. It’s surprisingly difficult for someone who’s been talking since she was ten months old. I workshop it.

Subtle: You know what you said? Well, me too. Ugh, terrible. He’ll think I’m talking about a sandwich order.

Maybe more poetic: Jack, you are the love of my life. Barf. That’s too sappy.

Straightforward-style: I love you, Jack. Much better. Straightforward could be my middle name.

And it’s easier to say each time. I try with a different emphasis. I love you, Jack. I love you, Jack. I love you , Jack, I mime.

I love you, too.

My entire body freezes in shock. I’m way too young for the heart attack I’m apparently having. I slowly turn my head to see Jack is wide awake and grinning.

The words tumble out of me. How? I mean, what? I didn’t say anything out loud. And you were asleep!

Guess not. I’ve been watching you for ages. You made all these weird expressions. It looked like you were practising for a speech or something. But you repeated the words enough times that I could read your lips.

He chuckles, and I smack his arm.

I’ve changed my mind. I hate you. I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.

Jack rolls to his side and pulls me into his chest. You don’t hate me, you love me, he says in a sing-song voice.

Can we pretend I didn’t say it? Then I can say it at a more appropriate time, and it can really mean something.

Nope. Can’t take it back. But you can say it as much as you like from now on. Out loud, even. He starts laughing again.

I growl and give up. At least the truth is out there and I don’t have to stress anymore. Not every romantic moment can be perfect.

I change the subject. Your bed is so comfortable. Why haven’t we been sleeping here all along?

Jack chuckles. That was your choice. I can sleep anywhere. And he does look well-rested, considering what time we ended up falling asleep last night—actually, this morning.

Why are you wearing clothes now? he grumbles as he tries to tug off my stolen T-shirt.

I roll away. I’m hungry. Is there food here, or should we go out?

It’s a house full of hungry hockey players, of course there’s food. How about I make you breakfast in bed? Then we can have sex afterwards. His tone is syrupy sweet.

I think we had all the sex last night. There can be no sex left on the planet.

And before he can pull me back into bed, I jump up and start looking for my clothes.

Unfortunately, I do have a lot of work to do today.

While Jacob is back, I need to assemble the rest of my team, meet with C.J.

, update Jaz, and on top of all that, do some coursework.

Ugh . My to-do list is already stressing me out.

Did you want to take a shower? Maybe together? Jack suggests.

Wow, that does sound like a good idea. My to-do list disappears in a puff of desire. Half an hour later, clean and refreshed, we go down to the kitchen together.

Swanny, Bergy, and Ethan are already in the dining room eating breakfast. They greet me with matching smirks. Not the ideal start to my Sunday.

Morning, boys. I raise a curious eyebrow.

Good morning, Andy, they chorus.

Jack makes us coffee, eggs, and toast. When we sit down in the dining room, his roommates are still there, even though their plates are empty.

Before I can lift my fork, they start in on me.

You know, I always wondered why Jack didn’t have you sleeping here, in his gigantic bed. And now I know, says Ethan. He was protecting us.

From girl cooties? I ask.

No, lots of women have spent the night in this house, brags Bergy.

But nobody as…enthusiastic as you, Swanny says.

Ethan is wearing the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his usually cynical face. If we gave out a prize for screamers, you would win. Maybe we should get a trophy made up.

I hide my face in my hands, but glare at Jack through my fingers. This is his fault, for being too good at sex.

Guys, could you shut the fuck up? he commands. Then he eats more toast because he’s completely unconcerned. Jack Sinclair is both beloved by his friends and teased by them. He just rolls with it, so his girlfriend will have to do the same.

You should be proud, dude. I think she compared you to God. Swanny laughs.

Jack, oh god, Jack, Ethan trills in a falsetto.

My voice is not that high, I retort and sip my coffee. New to-do list: train self to make fewer sex noises . Because we will be having sex here again, since Jack’s bed is insanely comfortable.

They finally give up when we ignore them and eat. But as Ethan gets up to leave, I toss out, I’d prefer gold.

For what? he asks.

My trophy? Gold, and maybe shaped like the Stanley Cup?

Sacrilege. Ethan shakes his head, then adds, Did you know you can’t touch the Cup until you win it?

No way. I look at Jack, and he nods. Yet another crazy hockey superstition.

Once we’re alone, I tell him all about the meeting where Bryce got dismissed. Jack reacts so satisfyingly, praising my brilliant answers and cursing Bryce once more.

Andy, don’t feel sorry for him at all. He brought all this shit on himself. Besides, it sounds like the only way he could have done the job well was if you were still giving him advice, Jack concludes.

Were you the one who started the letter-writing campaign? That’s what Bryce thought, I ask.

I wasn’t even the first one on the team to write a letter of support for you. That was all Schmidty.

Grant Schmidt? Didn’t he hate my first hockey story? Anna-Lee told me the hilarious story of how her boyfriend was all ready to confront me until he discovered I was a woman.

Jack nods. He’s your biggest fan now. He reads the stories as soon as they get posted and he hated the new guy. I think Schmidty was on his high school newspaper or something, so he knew that writing a letter to the editor was the way to go. Word spread after that.

I feel a glow of satisfaction. The support letters weren’t part of a campaign, but rather the natural reactions of people who actually read the sports section. And Bryce is proven to be a vindictive idiot once more.

Then it’s Jack’s turn to tell me about his promotion to top pairing. Tom O’Donnell was being as much of a jerk as ever, but Jack finally told him off.

All I’m doing is learning and trying my hardest. It’s not like I’m scheming to take his place in the line-up. Who cares what he thinks, anyway? Jack says.

Exactly. You can’t make everyone happy, I agree.

Now that I’ve made the top pairing, I really want to stay there. I’m learning so much from Coach Norman, and now I’m getting to use it in new situations.

As you said, the only way to control that is through your play. I’m no expert, but I thought you looked amazing last night. And those Hunter College guys seemed to be targeting you. That must be a good sign, right?

He rubs his ribs and winces. Yeah, I noticed. But you’re right. If the other team has to gameplan against me, I must be half-decent.

Again, I feel that glow of accomplishment. Now I understand enough about hockey for Jack to discuss it with me. Hockey is really important to him.

He smiles and reaches across the table to take my hand. It’s good to get caught up. I know it’s only been a short time, but I missed sharing things with you.

While our sex life is incendiary, talking is the part of our relationship that I missed the most. Sharing what happens in my life is so much better when Jack is here to be amazed or shocked or proud. And I get to listen and be his champion too.