Behind the Net: a grumpy sunshine hockey romance

WHEN I LEAVE my room the next evening, Jamie’s pacing the apartment with a thunderous expression. I walk into the living room, and he stops short, glaring at my outfit.

Sparks ignite in my stomach, and I wonder if this was a bad idea.

I know Rory isn’t interested in me. Even if he joked about threesomes, we’re just hanging out as friends. I was with the same guy since the tenth grade, though, and after Jamie blew my mind with the toy, I realized how much I was missing out on.

I want to go out and have fun. I want to meet new friends and have new experiences. For two years, I followed Zach around on tour, working my ass off, and before that, I followed him to university. All my friends were actually his friends.

Besides, beneath his cocky bravado, Rory wants to be friends with Jamie again. He just doesn’t know how, other than getting on Jamie’s nerves.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” His nostrils flare and his deep green eyes flash.

I glance down at my wool mini skirt and band t-shirt from a show Hazel and I saw a few summers ago. Over the t-shirt, my open knit sweater nearly reaches the hem of my skirt. “What’s wrong with this?”

He glowers at my legs, arms crossed. “You’re going to be cold.”

A shiver runs down my spine at his bossy tone and I turn away, checking the time on my phone to hide my flush. Rory will be here any minute.

“I’m wearing boots.” I pull them out of the closet and step into them.

I love these boots, and I don’t wear them enough. They go all the way up to my thighs and make my legs look amazing.

When I turn, Jamie’s eyes are on the slit of bare skin between the boots and my skirt, and his jaw is razor sharp with tension.

“Jamie,” I sigh, laughing a little. “Rory and I are just friends. You’re just mad because he scored a goal on you the other night.”

Daggers shoot from his eyes, and I can practically feel the prickle of his gaze on my thighs. “When he sees that skirt, he won’t want to be friends.” He lifts his gaze, and his eyes flash with frustration. “What if there are photos?” he bites out. “We told everyone at the wrap party that we were together.”

“No one’s going to take photos of us. We’re going to this really dim secret bar on Main Street that has amazing cocktails. People in that neighborhood are too cool to take pictures of a hockey player.”

My phone buzzes on the table, and Front Door flashes across the screen. I buzz Rory up and set the phone down.

I turn and bump into Jamie, and my hands come to his chest to steady myself. When I meet his gaze, my pulse lurches.

His eyes are wild.

“What’s going on?” I ask, searching his dark eyes as he glances at the door and then back to me.

His mouth crashes into mine. I groan against him as his tongue slides between my lips, stroking me. He walks me backward until I bump up against the wall, and his hips pin mine.

My eyes go wide, seeing nothing. All I can feel is him pressing into my stomach, fully hard. My pussy aches, and I let out a soft moan.

“We agreed not to.” My words are a regretful whisper against his lips, and he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on mine, breathing hard.

“I don’t care.”

Honestly? Me neither. I can’t remember why we even agreed not to do this. It’s too good.

His mouth drops back to mine and he kisses me so hard I’ll bruise. I’m lost in his kiss, the feel of his mouth taking mine, his hands on me and my hands in his hair. When I give his hair a soft tug, the resulting groan that rips out of his throat sends a thrill between my legs, and I can feel wetness pooling in my panties.

Oh god. Jamie is mouth-fucking me moments before Rory shows up, and I don’t even care. I can’t stop.

“I can’t stop thinking about this,” Jamie grits out, just as angry as before, but the heat in his eyes makes my core clench up with need.

He wants me so badly. All I can do is nod.

“Tell me to stop, Pippa,” he says against my mouth.

I moan as he sucks my tongue. No freaking way.

A knock on the door beside us makes me jump, and his arm shifts to rest on the wall above my head, caging me in. My nerves are rippling with excitement.

“That’s Rory,” I whisper.

Jamie’s free hand comes to my neck, gently holding me in place.

“Stay right there,” he murmurs, and I shiver again.

His other hand drops to my thighs, and he runs his knuckles over the bare skin between my skirt and my boot. I can’t breathe, and my heart races. My breasts feel full and tight, and when Jamie’s hand drifts to the hem of my skirt, pushing it up, my hips tilt involuntarily.

He lets out a breathy chuckle, and when Rory knocks again, Jamie leans down until his mouth brushes my ear. “Tell him you’ll be a minute.”

He can’t mean—

My pulse pounds between my legs.

He gives me an emphasizing, bossy look. His expression is clear.

Do it. Now.

“Just a second,” I call, voice warbling while my eyes stay locked on Jamie’s.

His hand trails up farther. The air crackles between us, but I can’t look away. He strokes a soft line up my inner thigh, and with his other hand, his fingers tense around the base of my neck.

My eyes flutter closed as he brushes over my underwear, and pleasure jolts through me when he presses against my clit. My mouth falls open and I gasp.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

“Shh.” The corner of his mouth tips up but his eyes are so dark, like he’s getting off on torturing me like this. “Does this feel good?”

I nod.

“You want me to finger you?”

I nod again, hands tensing on his broad chest. More than anything.

He raises an eyebrow. “Say please.”

“Please,” I whisper.

“Good girl.” He stares down at me, searching my face as he moves my panties aside and strokes his long fingers over me, circling my clit. I press my lips together to hold in a moan as he glides over my sensitive nerves. I’m breathing hard, wincing, and he dips one finger inside me.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and my eyes fall closed at the delicious, tight feeling. “So fucking wet for me, Pippa.”

I nod, resting my head against his chest.

“No, no, no,” he whispers, “eyes on me.”

I swallow another moan, biting my lip as I lift my head to look at him. His hair has fallen into his eyes, and even through my clouded, horny haze, I find that so endearing. He pushes another finger inside me, stroking in at an unhurried pace designed to make me insane, and I cling to his neck, practically hanging off him.

Rory knocks on the door again, and I startle, tightening up on Jamie’s fingers. I forgot he was there. Jamie shoots me a dark, pleased smile.

“Pippa,” Rory calls through the door. “This is boring. Let’s go.”

Jamie leans down. “You’re mine,” he murmurs in my ear, crooking his fingers toward my navel to rub against my G-spot.

I let a quiet moan slip out. “Just a second,” I call back, and my voice breaks as Jamie bumps his thumb against my clit. Pressure and heat build low in my belly, and I feel like I did the other night, with Jamie pressing the toy to my clit.

I feel like I’m going to come.

“You want to come?” he asks with that satisfied, powerful smirk.

I nod frantically, eyes rolling back as he works my pussy, biting back the moan of pleasure.

“I’m right there,” I breathe, staring up at him in awe. How is he so good at this?

“I know.”

There’s a smug, determined tone to his voice, and it sends more heat pooling around his fingers. My breath is coming out in short little gasps, and I cling to his gaze as the pressure at my center intensifies.

“There,” he mouths, watching me intently, and his hand speeds up. His thumb brushes my clit, and the wave inside me rises. “Quiet,” he whispers as I start to shake.

I clamp my lips closed, wincing as I clench up on his fingers. Intense, mind-bending light floods my body, curling, swelling, coursing, flowing through every inch of me, expanding from where Jamie’s long fingers stroke me. I can hear how wet I am while sparks burst across my nerves. As I ride out the last of my orgasm, I let my head fall against his chest.

“Perfect,” he whispers in my ear. “Fucking perfect.”

I’m still catching my breath when he lifts his fingers to his mouth and sucks me off his hand. Another ripple of heat moves through me, and my clit throbs. He leans down and presses a soft kiss against my mouth, and I can taste myself on his lips.

There’s another knock on the door, and Jamie’s hand is on the doorknob. I scramble to straighten my skirt while he pulls the door open.

“About fucking time—” Rory stops when he sees Jamie, and he breaks into a cocky grin. “You going to crash our date, Streicher?”

“Yeah. I am.”