Page 25
Story: Scoring with My Dirty Dare (Ice Chronicles Hockey #3)
25
Piper
We lie there afterwards, limbs tangled, both of us still catching our breath. My body’s buzzing from a mix of pure pleasure and leftover adrenaline, and Jake’s got an arm draped over my waist like he’s scared I’ll vanish.
We don’t talk at first; I’m too busy staring at the ceiling, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I just had sex—my first time, no less—with a guy I used to call a cocky jerk. The irony almost makes me laugh out loud.
Jake props himself up, brushes the hair off my face, and gives me this gentle, concerned look. “You okay?”
I swallow, still coming down from the high. “Yeah, just…processing.”
He studies me a moment longer. “Wanna talk about it?”
I let out a shaky laugh. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” My cheeks burn. “That was, uh…really good. I wasn’t expecting it to be so intense.”
A slow, self-satisfied smile spreads across his face. “It’s always intense when it actually matters .”
My chest tightens. “Right,” I manage, my voice sounding a little strangled at how real that feels.
He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my forehead—so sweet it almost makes me cry. “Stop overthinking,” he whispers. “Just stay here with me.”
I close my eyes and let out a long breath, letting his warmth and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull me. My guard’s never been this low, and it’s both terrifying and weirdly comforting.
We lie like that until the rush settles and exhaustion creeps in. Eventually, he shifts, pulling me closer against his chest, and this time, I let him. I’m too tired, too content—at least for the moment—to fight it.
***
I wake to darkness, the soft glow of the hallway barely illuminating the room. For a moment, I’m disoriented—pine and cedar filling my senses—until it clicks. The Ice Ranch. Jake’s room.
My heart flips, a mix of dread and longing tightening my stomach. His arm is draped over my waist, his breathing deep and steady in sleep. A pang squeezes my chest. I’ve never let myself rely on a man like this. Never allowed this kind of vulnerability. Yet here I am, wrapped in his warmth, his presence steady in a way that terrifies me.
My mind replays the moment I admitted my virginity—how he didn’t judge, didn’t hesitate, just accepted me. Gratitude tugs at me, something dangerously close to affection.
But that same feeling is why I need to leave. This was supposed to be fake, yet it’s unraveling into something real, something I can’t control.
I carefully ease his arm off my waist, slipping from the bed. He stirs, mumbling, but doesn’t wake. In the faint light, his face is relaxed, hair tousled. For a second, I waver, tempted to crawl back under the covers, to let morning come without all this overthinking. But I can’t. I need space to breathe.
I gather my clothes, every movement slow and deliberate. My body aches in ways that make it impossible to deny what happened between us. Once dressed, I step into the hallway, wrapping my arms around myself against the slight chill.
Moonlight filters through the windows, casting shadows across the living room. On the coffee table, a stack of Violet’s drawings catches my eye—childlike sketches of horses with bright manes. My throat tightens. This is Jake’s home, his life. And I’m just… me.
Slipping outside, the crisp night air stings my heated skin. The ranch stretches out under the moonlight, fences and outbuildings fading into the distance. A few lights glow from the other siblings’ houses. My car waits near the main drive, and I hurry toward it, each step only tightening the knot in my chest.
The engine sputters before catching, and I pull onto the gravel road, dust kicking up in my headlights. A part of me almost expects Jake to burst onto the porch, calling after me. But of course, he doesn’t. He’s asleep, unaware I’m running. My fingers tighten around the wheel, my pulse hammering the entire drive back into town.
***
The drive back to the Airbnb is short, but it feels endless. My phone buzzes on the passenger seat—probably Maddie or Jake. I don’t check. I can’t handle it right now. My thoughts are too tangled, my emotions too raw.
Pulling into the driveway, I cut the engine. The porch light glows, casting long shadows. Everything is quiet except for the wind rustling through the trees. My shoes crunch against the gravel as I head for the door, which is unlocked, just as we left it.
Inside, the house is dim. A single lamp glows in the living room, likely left on for me. Across the hall, Maddie’s door is shut, no light slipping from underneath. Asleep—or waiting for me to walk in and spill everything. Either way, I’m not ready.
In my room, I flick on the small desk lamp. My bed is neatly made, except for the sweater I tossed there earlier. My chest tightens at the memory of Jake’s hands guiding me onto his bed. Stop it. Focus.
A notebook sits on the desk, filled with story ideas, festival notes, angles on Jake’s career. Once, he was just a headline—the cocky hometown hockey star who needed an image fix. Now? I don’t know. Lover? Boyfriend? The father of a little girl I barely know?
Too many questions swirl in my head. I drop onto the bed, pressing my palms to my eyes, willing my thoughts to settle. My body still hums with the aftermath of tonight, but my mind is a wreck. This was supposed to be fake, but it’s becoming something terrifyingly real.
I pull out my phone. One missed call from an unknown number. A single text from Jake:
Jake: You okay?
A pang hits my chest. He must’ve woken up and found me gone. He’s checking on me. I hover over the screen, torn between responding and shutting him out. If I let him in any further, it might hurt even more when it all falls apart.
I lock the phone and set it face-down on the nightstand.
Exhaustion pulls at me, so I change into an oversized T-shirt and slip under the covers. My limbs are heavy, but my mind won’t stop. I stare at the ceiling, replaying every touch, every whispered word. How he looked at me like I was something precious.
A single tear slips down my cheek.
The clock ticks in the quiet room, each second stretching endlessly. Finally, sleep claims me. But even in my dreams, I can’t escape the sound of his heartbeat, the low rumble of his voice, and the sinking realization that I might already be in too deep.
Table of Contents
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- Page 25 (Reading here)
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