47. Maya
Maya
The dip of the bed behind me pulls me from the light sleep I was falling into. Jamie’s clean scent and strong arms wrap around me, and I turn over in his embrace, burrowing deeper into his chest and warmth.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
“Yeah,” he says. “I am. He wasn’t mad.”
“I knew he wouldn’t be. I was just worried he’d be upset we kept it from him for so long.”
“Maybe, but he didn’t say that, either. We talked about what happened—about my parents—and then he told me he was happy for us.”
“Good,” I reply. “And you two worked everything out?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’re good, I think.”
“You want to talk about it?” I question.
“Sure, but not tonight. I just want to hold you tonight.”
This brings a grin to my lips that turns flirtatious when I arch my neck back and look at him. “Just hold me, huh?”
Jamie’s gaze heats, giving me a smirk of his own. “Well, hold you, touch you, hear you say my name when you come.” He bends forward, tracing kisses from my temple to the corner of my mouth to my jaw.
“It would be a shame to let Drew’s chivalry go to waste,” I joke, arching my body into him as he rolls me onto my back, pushing his hoodie up to reveal my stomach and chest.
“Absolutely,” he murmurs, kissing down my chest, flicking his tongue over one nipple while gently squeezing the other, pulling a sigh from my lungs.
Words evade us as he continues to torment me with his tongue, touching me everywhere except where I want him most. When he finally reaches for my waistband, he tugs it down only enough to expose my hip bones, kissing them and scraping his teeth over my pebbled skin.
“Jamie. Please.” I don’t care that I’m begging. He’s going to find me soaked when he removed my shorts. From watching him at the beach to playing the piano to making out in the shower, this whole day has been one big tease.
Jamie’s smirk is sinful as he finally pulls the boxer shorts down my thighs and hooks my legs over his shoulders.
The flat of his tongue glides right up my center, and all coherent thought leaves me as I close my eyes and get lost in the feel of him.
He licks and sucks and pulls all sorts of indecent sounds from by body, and when he finally presses two fingers into me, providing the friction I’ve been craving all day, I can’t stop the moan that erupts from my lips.
Immediately, I slap a hand over my mouth, instinct telling me that we have to be quiet. But Jamie chuckles from between my knees and says, “Don’t. Let me hear you, baby. I want to know how good I make you feel.”
Dropping my hand away, I grab for his dark curls instead of letting him continue going down on me. “Fuck me. Please, I can’t take it anymore; I just want you to fuck me.”
He laughs again, sitting up on his knees and reaches behind his head to tug his shirt off. Drunk on lust, I ogle his sculpted form as if it’s the first time I’ve seen it, still not used to the fact that this specimen of a man is all mine.
I sit up, pulling his hoodie the rest of the way off as he removes his sweatpants.
When he crawls back over my body, pinning me with his weight, he kisses me like he’ll die if he doesn’t.
Our mouths collide in frantic, longing caresses as his fingers tangle in my hair.
I scrape my nails over his shoulders and along his back, and when he eases slowly into me, the world fades away.
“Oh my God, I’ve never been this anxious about a game in my entire life,” Stella admits, bouncing up and down with nervous energy.
We all decided to wear the boys jerseys to the game today, and we’ve gone all out with hair glitter and everything. There’s an entire section of Saint A’s students decked out in blue and black with face paint and cardboard signs.
“I know. I literally couldn’t even eat this morning,” Nora replies.
She’s wearing one of Drew’s jerseys and Stella’s in Colt’s.
I’m in Beau’s, Chloe’s in Peter Simmons’, and Dani’s in Austin Butcher’s, because Jamie said if I can’t wear his jersey, then no one can, which made me smile more than it should’ve.
“It’ll be fine,” Chloe interjects. “They’re going to win, for sure. They’ve been through too much not to.”
“I just hope they don’t get in their heads,” Stella says before looking to Dani. “This must be so awkward for you, trying to cheer for both sides,” she adds with a laugh.
Dani shrugs. “Not really. Drake’s teammates are all kind of dicks, so I’d rather cheer for our guys instead.”
“Including Beau?” Chloe asks, nudging her shoulder against Dani’s, teasing, and Dani rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, even him, I guess,” she says with a laugh, and we all chuckle. When we were getting ready this morning, I’d asked Dani if she wanted to wear Beau’s jersey today and she responded with a resounding “Fuck, no.”
“So, Nora, what’s going on with you and Drew?” I ask, nosily.
“Oh, nothing,” she says quickly. “We’re just friends.”
Chloe raises an eyebrow, not quite buying it. “Friends with Drew Mattingly usually involves a lot of kissing, last I heard.”
Nora laughs, and her cheeks go red. She looks so innocent, but not like she’s bothered by our interrogation.
“I promise, we haven’t kissed or done anything else.
” She stops, biting her lip before continuing.
“It’s a long story, but we did a lot of talking and decided ‘just friends’ is what we should be. ”
“So you really aren’t into him at all?” Dani asks, baffled. “I mean, he’s so… lovable. Like a puppy, but with abs.” We all laugh, and Nora just shakes her head, smiling.
“Nope. We just aren’t like that,” she insists, and we let the topic go.
I suppose it’s a good thing her and Drew aren’t together in any capacity, because that man has had a lot of hook ups since I’ve known him, and Nora’s so sweet, she deserves better than to be put on someone’s roster.
Drew is too good of a guy to sleep with other people if he was interested in someone, so I can totally believe they’re just friends.
We sit in our seats behind the glass and chat with the people around us for another few minutes before the lights dim and “Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns N’ Roses starts blaring from the speakers as both teams file out onto the ice.
Everyone in the arena rises to their feet, screaming and cheering as the players make a few laps around the rink before they each head to their respective ends of the ice and begin their warm-up routines.
When warm-up time ends, all the players gather around their benches as the Zamboni clears the ice. Everyone around us in on their feet, and I doubt we’ll sit for the entire game.
Each team lines up in front of their respective benches, and I watch with startled curiosity as Jamie skates to center ice with a microphone, and the National Anthem begins to play over the speakers.
The entire arena goes silent as he begins to sing, and I can’t look away from him.
I’m completely awestruck at the fact that he’s singing in front of all these people—letting his hockey life and his music life overlap.
It’s as if I’m watching the two halves of him merge together and heal right before my eyes.
When he finishes the song, the crowd cheers louder than they did before, his voice having the ability to bring people together in this moment.
My heart swells in my chest as he skates back over to his team, and they all clap him on the back.
Pulling out my phone, I text my dad, knowing Jamie is about to start playing, but I need to know what just happened. I usually don’t bother my dad on game days because I know he will always respond immediately whenever he sees my name pop up across his watch, but I can’t stop myself this time.
Dad
Me: I didn’t know he was going to sing??
Dad: It was supposed to be a choir from one of the local schools, but their bus broke down on the way. I was talking to one of the NCAA coordinators down in the tunnel when they called, and I asked Jamie if he wanted to do it instead.
Me: I’m proud of him
Me: Also, tell those boys to kick ass out there today.
Dad: Anything for you, Bug.
I watch as my dad tucks his phone away and turns to give one last pep talk to his team. When the buzzer sounds, Jamie meets Drake Kingston at center ice, and the championship game begins.