Chapter 7
CARA
In the past few weeks, Jake has had more good press than he has in the history of his hockey career.
Some journalist or paparazzo managed to snap a photo of us together on a lunch date, and we both briefly panicked that the discovery of our relationship would implode our careers; it actually did the opposite.
The team literally cheered for us, slapping Jake on the back and yelling about how they knew it because he’d been smiling like an idiot more than normal and kept staring at my ass when we’d pass each other in the halls.
They all welcomed me into the fold with vows to punch Jake in the face if he ever upset me and thanked me for getting him under control for the sake of the team.
The comments were all joking, but I got the sense that there was a layer of truth beneath the laughter and jeering, and it became clear that this was more than just a job.
This is a family, and one that I’m now lucky enough to be a part of.
If I think about it too long, I get all mushy, so I force my thoughts back to my coffee when the door to my office opens.
In walks Ronald, the team’s manager, and Reggie, the head coach.
My eyes widen with concern as they take a seat, crammed into the small space.
Seconds later, Jake joins us, and my office is now full of a very large hockey player, an equally large coach, and Ronald, who, despite being at least a hundred pounds lighter than the other men and five inches shorter, has enough of a commanding presence to feel much larger.
I swallow.
“Uh…did I do something wrong?” I ask, heart pounding as I look to Jake pleadingly.
He shoots me a grin, leaning against the wall with the same cocky attitude and playful wink that sent me head over heels for him weeks ago.
“On the contrary,” Ronald begins, shaking his head. “We saw the photos and heard the gossip from the team. They’re worse than a gaggle of high school girls, I swear.”
Reggie laughs. “Oh, they certainly are. Can’t keep their noses out of anyone’s business, that lot.”
I laugh with them, knowing it's true. I know far too much about some of those guys already, just from overhearing conversations in the hall or during practice when I’m taking content.
Jake’s one of the worst, but he’s always there to comfort or offer advice, too.
His team all know what I do, too: Jake has a major soft spot for those he loves.
And now, that includes me.
“Anyway, we just wanted to quickly meet you both and tell you that we’re happy that you’re happy,” Ronald says, a little awkwardly. “Your personal lives are up to you, and we’re not here to interfere.”
“Besides,” Reggie adds, looking to Jake, “with all the work Cara’s doing, and the paps sneaking pics of the two of you, you’re getting the best press you’ve ever had.”
“True,” Ronald agrees, pointing at Jake and then at me. “So just make sure never to break up, all right? I’m enjoying the break from bad press too much for that.”
Jake’s cheerful expression darkens at the mere idea of us not being together, and his voice is totally and utterly serious when he says, “I’ll make sure that never happens.”
I try to hide my blush behind my coffee mug, taking a big drink even though it’s gone mostly cold now. Ronald and Reggie mercifully leave a minute later, apparently satisfied that everything’s cleared up now, but Jake lingers.
“Aren’t you supposed to be training?” I ask, raising a brow at him.
In answer, he turns and clicks the lock into place on the door. My pulse immediately picks up.
“Running drills,” he answers, though he doesn’t seem to care one bit that he’s missing it. “But I’d much rather be here.”
“Playoffs are next week,” I remind him. “You don’t want to give Coach any reason to bench you. You need to be in the best shape possible.”
Jake only grins, and in two long strides, he’s right in front of me, leaning over my desk with a glimmer in his eyes. “So help me get some exercise in then, princess.”
The way he looks at me, like I’m everything he’s ever wanted, like he needs his hands on me right this damn second, sends heat flooding through my body. I shift in my seat as it settles between my legs, my thighs squeeze together as an ache starts to build. An ache that only he can heal.
“We’re at work,” I say, but it’s not a protest, not really. The knowledge that we shouldn’t, that it’s wrong to do this here, only turns me on even more.
“Scared we’ll get caught, princess?” Jake asks, coming around my desk and bracing his hands on the arms of my chair, caging me in.
He leans down, kisses my throat and speaks his next words against my skin.
“Or does it make you hot to know that our bosses could knock on that door while I’m buried inside you? ”
A squeak escapes me, and Jake chuckles, one hand settling on my thigh. The thin fabric of my tights suddenly feels non-existent.
He’s wearing his practice jersey and pants, not having put on his protective gear yet, and I can’t help but reach for him, grabbing the front of his jersey in my hands and pulling him closer.
Before I can steal a kiss, though, I’m pulled from my chair, Jake’s hands gripping my thighs as he turns us both so he can sit me on my desk. On instinct, I part my legs so he can stand between them, wanting him closer, as close as physically possible.
My skirt rides up, and Jake groans.
“You have no idea how badly I want to rip these things right off you,” he says, stroking his thumb over my tights on the inside of my thigh.
“I have a spare pair in my bag,” I tell him with a flirty smile.
I’m forever accidentally getting ladders in my tights from catching them with my keys or on the edge of a table or on my jewelry when I’m running about places, so I’ve taken to carrying a spare pair to change into in case it happens.
I can’t thank my past self enough for that now.
In a split second, Jake grips the thin fabric high on either thigh and rips, the seam in the middle splits clean open to show off my panties.
“Fuck, princess, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs as he cups the wet fabric between my legs, making my hips buck, seeking pressure and the pleasure I know he can give me.
“Quick, before someone comes to find you,” I breathe, desperate for him.
I moan as he presses his lips to mine, his tongue finds mine and claims me, sparks flying between our bodies.
As much as I’d like to return the favor of literally tearing his clothes off, his hockey gear is literally built to withstand forces much more powerful than me, so I settle for tugging his pants and boxers down frantically until I can wrap my hand around his cock.
The kiss turns hungry as he yanks my panties to one side, and I guide the head of his cock to my center.
We both moan as he presses inside, filling me slowly, savoring every inch of our connection.
I grip his shoulders tight as one of his hands slides up my blouse, cups my breast through my bra, and his other hand is tight on my thigh.
He pulls me right to the edge of the desk so that he can thrust deep, and swallows my moan when I can’t control it.
“Careful, or they’ll hear you all the way from the rink,” he says in a low voice, nipping at my bottom lip.
I try to keep quiet, I swear I do, but when his hand moves from my breast to my clit, drawing small circles around the tight bud, there’s no way on earth I can keep myself from moaning his name.
“Fuck, that’s the best sound I’ve ever heard,” Jake swears, lips against the pounding pulse in my neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there.
“Jake…” I moan again, loving the way he reacts to it, how his grip tightens a little, how he thrusts harder, the way his breath comes out ragged. I’m addicted to him. In love with him. Obsessed with him.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Come for me, princess,” Jake demands, his cock reaching the spot inside me that makes me see stars as he keeps his attention on my clit, throwing me over the edge.
I bury my face against his chest, trying to muffle the moans that fly from my mouth as I come. Jake groans my name as his orgasm hits him, and I shudder, clutching him.
We’re both panting as we part, my tights ruined and my desk a mess. My grin is so wide it hurts.
“You’re trouble, Jake Jones,” I tell him, still smiling.
Jake kisses me softly. “You love it, princess,” he counters.
And he’s right.
I really do.