Behind the Net: a grumpy sunshine hockey romance

“YOUR EYE,” I gasp when Jamie finds me in one of the staff hallways at the arena after the game. My hand automatically drifts up to his cheekbone, careful not to brush it. The area around his eye is swollen and bruising, and his lip is cut.

“I’m okay, songbird.” The untouched corner of his lip quirks up. Despite the bruises, he seems lighter than before the game, less stressed. “Do I look hideous?”

“You’re too handsome to look hideous. You look even hotter with the black eye.”

His eyes spark with amusement. “You think I’m handsome?”

“You know I do. Bossy and demanding, but unfairly handsome.”

His smile lifts even higher, and I don’t miss the way his hand comes to my lower back as he leads me down the hallway to the parking garage. I look up at him again, so tall, his hair still damp from his shower. My gaze falls to his lip and I can feel the worry all over my expression.

He chuckles and stops walking. “I promise you.” He pulls my hand to his chest, flattening his palm over mine so I can feel the steady thump of his heart. “Feel that?”

His eyes are on me, watching me with affectionate amusement. I nod, and I can’t look away.

“Still beating.” He studies me, and it feels like he wants to say more.

“What happened out there tonight?”

His thumb strokes over the back of my hand absently as he looks away. “Miller and I settled what’s been building for a long time.”

I’ve never heard the arena like it was tonight. The fans were livid and bloodthirsty. Watching Jamie fight tore my heart out, but it also tugged on something between my legs. He looked like a warrior, all power, strength, and brutality.

It was hot.

He strokes my skin again, and I remember the other night, him moving on top of me, and the agonized expression on his face as he came. My center flutters at the idea of it.

“Let’s go home.” His eyes trail over my face, and my gaze snags on his cut lip again.

Tonight, I’m going to take care of my goalie.

Jamie frowns at the huge bathtub piled high with bubbles. His bathroom smells like my vanilla chai bubble bath. He’s shirtless, dressed in only low-slung athletic pants, and I’m trying not to get distracted by the deep-cut V muscles leading into the waistband.

“Get in,” I tell him, gesturing at the tub.

His eyebrow goes up, and he winces. The bruise around his eye is getting darker. “You want me to have a bubble bath.” His tone is flat.

“Mhm. It’ll help you feel better.”

His gaze flares with heat, and I get another glimpse of him from last night, mindlessly thrusting into me, moaning into my hair. His gaze drops to my lips, and his tongue slides over the cut on his mouth.

“Only if you get in with me.”

The flutters between my legs intensify and heat crawls up my neck.

“Fine,” I say, and a dark look flashes through his eyes.

When he slides his pants and boxers off, he’s already hard, jutting out thick and proud. There’s something in his eyes that I like, a little bit of pride, a lot of arousal, and a possessiveness that sends a shiver through me. His muscles move as he gets into the tub—his thick thighs, the ridges of his abs, his rounded, strong shoulders as he lowers himself into the water. He settles back and his gaze sharpens, pinning me.

“Your turn,” he says, and the way his mouth tugs up feels dangerous.

Anticipation pumps in my veins. I pull my jersey off, laying it on the counter before I start to take my sweater over my head.

“Slower.”

He props his elbow on the side of the tub as he watches, and although his body language is relaxed, his eyes are determined. Watchful, cataloging me. This is what he looks like on the ice, watching every move.

My clothes come off slowly, and heat clenches between my legs as his eyes darken. Finally, I’m naked, and a muscle ticks in his jaw.

I step one foot in the tub, and my breath catches.

“It’s hot,” I whisper.

“Come here.” He leans forward and guides me between his legs, back against his chest, just like the time with the toy. His cock rests against his stomach, pressing into my backside, sending thrills through me. I sigh in comfort as he locks his arms across my collarbone, pulling me against him. “That’s better.”

I feel his low voice through his chest, and we sit there in comfortable silence as the bathroom fogs up. My fingers trail a slow path up and down his thighs, and he relaxes around me, breath turning steady. Eventually, his hands slide over my skin to my shoulders and his thumbs dig into my traps, working out the tension in the muscles.

“How’s your face feeling?”

His laugh is low. “Hardly feeling it right now.” He drops a kiss onto my shoulder, and I smile. “You’re the perfect distraction.”

He brushes the skin between my breasts, light as a butterfly, but my nerves dance with his touch, and I feel it everywhere. I’ve never done this with a guy, just sit in the bathtub and explore each other’s bodies. His fingers drift to my nipple, circling it, and the breath whooshes out of my lungs at the sharp ache between my legs.

Against my lower back, his cock pulses, and he drops another kiss to my shoulder.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” I whisper. He tugs and rolls the peak before moving to the other, and it’s making my head spin, it feels so good.

“How does this feel?” he asks in a low voice, ignoring me.

“Good.” My eyes fall closed as he pinches me, and my center clenches around nothing. The water is so warm, his hard body is so comfortable against mine, and my head fits perfectly against his shoulder as I melt into him.

His mouth is on my temple. “Where do you feel this, songbird? Tell me.”

“My chest.” I sigh as his fingers work, lulling me into a delicious, hazy state of arousal.

“Mhm. Where else?”

God, his voice is so fucking sexy, murmured in my ear like that. “Between my legs.”

“Really.” He says it like he’s not surprised.

I nod, eyes closed, and sigh again as his big hand cups my breast, weighing it, massaging.

“I can’t stop thinking about last night,” he tells me, lips brushing my ear, and I shiver.

“Me neither,” I breathe. “And this morning.”

“Seeing you come is a dream, Pippa. I’m addicted to it.” His hand drifts down my stomach, trailing light touches that I feel in every nerve ending. “I’ve pictured making you come in a thousand different ways. Bent over the kitchen counter. In the back seat of my car. In my bed. In your bed.” At the brush of his hand over my clit, I jerk, muscles tightening.

He cups my pussy, and on instinct, my hips tilt, seeking friction. My clit aches as my legs press outward into his.

“Needy.” Without moving his hand, his teeth nip my shoulder and my hips tilt again. “So fucking needy.”

“You’re playing with me.”

His laugh is low and pleased. “What do you need?”

“Touch me. Fuck me. Fill me, Jamie.”

I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I’ve never said these things before, but then again, I never felt this way before.

He lets out a hoarse groan. “That mouth. That pretty, dirty mouth.” His mouth traces the shell of my ear. Heat builds low in my belly, and I know that whatever he does, it won’t take long to make me come. “Now what? Show me.”

My hand covers his, and I slide it lower, pressing on two of his thick fingers near my entrance. He pushes them inside me, and I gasp, arching against him at the delicious stretching ache as I accommodate him.

“Like that?” he asks, smug.

“You know it’s like that,” I manage as he strokes in and out.

“What else? What else do you need to get there?”

“Clit.” My voice is thin and strained, and I’m clutching his thighs, trying to breathe.

His palm presses against my clit, dragging over it with the movement of his fingers, and my eyes roll back. My head spins at the intensity.

“There we go,” he murmurs against my temple, and his pleased tone makes me flush. “Such a good girl for me. Such a fast learner. Are you ready to come?”

I nod frantically.

“Use your words.”

“Please.” It falls from my lips as a moan. “I need to come.”

His groan vibrates through my back, and his cock presses into me insistently. “Love it when you beg me.”

He crooks his fingers inside me, finding the spot that blanks my thoughts out. His fingers are just a little too thick, but the light, aching sting nudges me closer to my release. His other hand settles around my neck, gentle but possessive, and I only want to be his.

I cry out at the first tremors.

“Yeah.” His tone is smug, and I wish I could see his face. “That’s it right there, isn’t it?”

I shake as intense pressure builds. When he touches that spot, my body floods with bright, intense sensation.

“Jamie,” I whimper.

It feels too good. Too much. The friction on my clit, his arm around my waist, anchoring me to him, his lips against my temple, his thick fingers punishing me—electricity courses through my muscles as the wave gains strength.

It peaks, and I crash.

“I’m coming.” The words are puffs of air as I shake, suspended while pleasure pulses through me from my center. I’m clamping down on his fingers, pressed into him from head to toe, writhing under the pure fucking ecstasy that is a Jamie Streicher-induced orgasm.

“So good,” he murmurs as I come. “Good girl. Perfect. Just like that, baby. You’re so tight around my fingers.”

I fade back, and Jamie’s hand smooths up and down my thigh while I catch my breath.

He lets out a ragged sigh. “I love doing that.”

“You’re very, very good at it,” I say lightly, and when he brushes my clit, I jerk, laughing. “Too sensitive.”

His laugh is low against my hair, and it puts a dumb, goofy smile on my face as he settles me back against his body.

When we get out of the tub, Jamie insists on drying me off. He’s still hard, and as he pulls the towel around my back, tipping a small grin at me, I reach for his gorgeous cock.

He groans, and I smile up at him as I draw my thumb over his tip, over the bead of liquid there. I lift it to my lips, and my eyes fall closed at the taste. When I open them, his expression is agonized, dark eyes glazed and jaw tight.

I’m growing to love this moment where I hold complete power over him.

I get an idea and bite my lip before reaching for my jersey on the counter. Anticipation lights me up, because I think he’s going to like this. With the jersey in one hand, I lead him to the bedroom.

“What—” His words cut off as I pull it over my head, and his eyes travel down my form, flashing with lust. “Fuck.”

I sink to my knees, and his eyes darken.