Page 44 of Trick Shot (Bainbridge Hockey #4)

Pete

L ight filters in through the cracks in the curtains of Claire’s bedroom. I’ve always been a morning person, but I don’t feel like getting out of bed today. I should be thrilled to be heading up to Allentown for Regionals, and I am.

But as much as I love hockey, I think I prefer lying naked in bed with Claire.

“What time is it?” she asks, her voice sleepy as she stretches.

“A little after seven,” I say. Our bus leaves at ten, so I have some time on my hands. I should probably shower and head to one of the dining halls for breakfast, but the way my girlfriend is pressing up against me as she stretches out her muscles has me rethinking that idea.

And yes, I know she’s not actually my girlfriend, but we’ve been acting like a couple for weeks now, and I’m not sure either one of us is acting. Hell, I know I’m not.

Claire has her hands splayed on my bare chest. I used to be kind of self-conscious about my dad bod physique, but the way she touches me, the way she looks at me? It’s impossible not to feel sexy when I see how turned on she is.

We were in a hurry to make love last night because we’ve been so busy that we hadn’t seen each other for a few days. But this morning, we can take our time and damn, I want to worship every part of her body.

And I know exactly where to start.

I reach my hand into her hair and brush it off to the side so the smooth, delicate skin of her neck is exposed. She gasps in anticipation and I fucking guarantee if I slipped a finger into her pussy right now, she’d be wet.

I’ve learned a lot over the past few weeks and one of my favorite lessons is that Claire loves having her neck kissed.

She likes it when I tease her first, too.

Bringing my mouth close to her ear, I blow a gentle breath and watch her shiver.

It’s so damn hot, I do it again before pressing my lips to the sensitive skin between the column of her neck and the curve of her shoulder.

My kisses are slow and wet and languid. I’m trying to be gentle so I don’t leave a mark, but damn.

There is something undeniably hot about the idea of marking her skin.

My cock is getting hard just thinking about it.

Claire rocks her body against mine and it feels so damn good. “Getting impatient?” I ask as my lips hover over the tops of her breasts. “Do you have somewhere to be?” I tease. “Because I can hurry this up or?—”

“I do, actually,” she tells me, arching her back. God, I can tell she wants me to put my mouth on her, and fuck, I want the same thing.

But I also want to make her wait for it.

Claire disagrees. She trails her hand up the length of my cock before cupping my balls.

Fuck, that feels good .

“Where is it that you have to be this morning?”

“On your cock,” she tells me, as I close my mouth over the hardened peak of her nipple.

My fingers drift between her legs while I kiss each breast, trying like hell to take my time, but it’s a losing battle. I’m fucking needy for her.

Claire’s hands clasp my shoulders and push gently until I’m lying flat on my back on the bed. She’s up on her knees in an instant, and she straddles me the next. I fucking love it when she’s on top. Or when I am. Or when my face is between her legs or when she’s on her knees for me.

Sex with Claire is incredible every single time.

Her pussy hovers over my dick and I swear to god I’m growing harder and thicker. My cock is dying to be inside her, and I can’t even be mad about it.

I reach for a condom and sheath myself before gripping her hips and dragging her wet heat across my dick. I pulse with the need to be inside her and when she widens her stance and lowers herself onto me, I have to force myself not to cry out and wake the whole damn dorm.

She sinks herself down, rocking forward as her greedy pussy swallows every inch of me. When she’s fully seated, we’re both out of breath.

“You look so damn good riding me like this,” I tell her, reaching up and brushing the stiffened peaks of her nipples with my thumbs as she grinds her body against mine.

That’s what I need more of. She’s rocking herself back and forth and swiveling her hips. All those perfect motions are explosive on their own, but the combination is enough to get me closer and closer to the edge.

But I’m not going over it without her.

I reach between us and my thumb finds her clit in an instant. I’m rubbing hard tight circles while I thrust up inside her and it’s driving both of us insane in the very best way.

“Fuck,” she curses, leaning her body over mine so she can press a kiss to my lips. But that one taste isn’t enough so I pull her back down, lean in close, and press my lips to hers.

“You feeling good?” I ask her, breathless.

“Fuck, yes,” she tells me, lifting her hips a few inches just so she can sink back down onto me. Fuck . Every time she does it, I think I’m about to lose my mind because it feels so damn good.

“Pete,” she keens. “Oh, fuck. Pete. I’m. Fuck . I. Oh?—”

The look on her gorgeous face when she falls apart is something I’ll never tire of. And the shockwaves her orgasm releases in me are nothing short of amazing. I can feel her body, her heat everywhere.

And I don’t ever want to leave.

But eventually, I have to.

I roll out of bed to ditch the condom, and when I crawl back in bed, she wraps her arms around me.

How in the hell am I ever letting this woman go?

Claire reaches for her phone, but instead of checking the time, she turns the camera on and leans her head against my shoulder.

She tilts her head to look at me and her smile is wide.

“Can I take a picture of us?” she asks. “It’s okay if you say no.

And I’d never share them with anyone. I just…

God, you’re so fucking hot. You know that, right? ”

If anyone else asked to take a naked picture with me, I’d have said no and run out of the room like my ass was on fire.

But I trust Claire.

And if I look even half as good as she tells me I do, then maybe I should stop worrying that there’s a layer of fluff over my abs and that my shoulders are as wide as some doorways.

Besides, the idea of a few pics of us in bed together is pretty hot.

“Forget I asked,” she says, mistaking my silence. “And be mad at yourself because you look so damn good in my sheets.”

“Yes.”

“I should probably—wait, what?”

I smooth my hand over her hair. “Yes, I want you to take some pictures of us like this.”

Her smile is radiant as she lifts the phone and adjusts the angle. I’m wondering if I should do anything different or specific but fuck it. I turn my head and kiss her temple. Then I look into her eyes because I want to see if even half of what I’m feeling is reflecting back at me.

When I capture her blue eyes with my brown ones, I’m blown the fuck away. I’m not alone in the way I feel.

And I think it’s time to be honest about that.

She sets the camera down and curls into me, so I bring the blanket up to cover her shoulders.

“You know how we’ve kept up the pretense of this relationship because it would have looked strange if you dumped my ass right after the issue with your car was solved?”

“And so we could keep doing this,” she says, motioning between us.

I nod. “Those aren’t the only reasons I think we should keep doing this.”

“What’s the other reason?” she asks, her expression neutral.

“Because I want to be your boyfriend,” I tell her honestly. “Because this fake thing between us is the best I’ve ever had, and it doesn’t feel like we’re putting on a show. At least, not to me.”

Her eyes go wide as she shakes her head. “Not to me either. Not for a long time. It’s crazy because we used to be enemies but now you’re the best part of my day. It was so easy to pretend to be your girlfriend, Pete, because I like you so much and I?—”

I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. “Hold up. What did you just say?”

Claire’s brow arches with suspicion. “That I like you, too, and?—”

“You admitted it. Twice,” he says. “Those are the three little words I’ve been fucking waiting to hear. You. Like. Me.”

My beautiful girlfriend shoots me a look of bewilderment. “Of course I do. What’s not to like?”

“Wait, say that again. I didn’t quite hear you.” I’ve got my hand cupped around my ear and I’m standing on a metal bench in the locker room of the FirstCo Arena.

When I look out at my teammates, their smiles are broad as they shout, “This is our year!”

It’s what we’ve been saying since the start of the season when we need to get pumped up and since we’re heading out to play our rivals to see who will advance to the Frozen Four, we need all the energy we can get.

We each won our games by a score of five-to-one two nights ago but today isn’t going to be easy for either of us.

First, there’s a little friction between our teams, to put it mildly.

Not only is Woodcock our biggest competition, they also hate us because we have their goalie.

Ok, that sounds bad and it’s not the whole story, but they’re basically pissed because when their Coach cut JT Norris from the roster before his freshman year had even begun, Coach Baylor snagged him.

It was all fair, unless you count the fact that it was bullshit JT even got nixed in the first place.

But he’s a hell of a goalie and they’re all pretty butthurt that he’s defending our net instead of theirs. Their dumbass decision, their loss. And if the rumors are true, JT could get called up to play for Seattle before they start their playoff run.

I hop down from the bench to find my best friend waiting for me. He’s not dressed in his gear, and it still throws me off a little. He’s wearing a suit tonight, looking more like one of the coaches than a player on the Injured Reserve, but that’s fitting, too.

“You’re a hell of a captain, Pete,” he says, his words sincere. Van and I don’t often get mushy with each other. In fact, I had to hand him his ass a couple months ago before he pushed Josie so far away that there’d be no coming back.

“Thanks,” I tell him, though I’m still a little pissed at the universe on his behalf.

And that’s another reason we hate Woodcock.

One of their D-men, Corey Bradford, is the reason Van will never play pro hockey, even though he was getting looks from so many teams. His career was over before it started thanks to Bradford’s nasty, illegal hit.

It’s not that we’re out for vengeance, not exactly. We’re not here to ruin anybody’s career, but we are here to make sure their season ends tonight. What that asshole took from Van is unforgivable and we’ll all be damned if they beat us and take our spot at the chance for the national title.

I clap Van’s back as he squeezes my shoulder. We don’t need to exchange words. We’ve got the kind of friendship where you can have a whole conversation in total silence.

Rosco lets out a piercing whistle and Coach motions for us to gather around. He looks at every one of us for a second each before clearing his throat to start his speech. “Beat them,” he says before picking up his clipboard and walking away.

Coach Baylor is known for being a man of few words, but two might be a school record for a pre-game speech. Still, he’s right. That’s what we came here to do. There’s no other option. The Woodcock Bushtits are going down.