Chapter 14
Ellie
The kiss is a total shock to my system, a jolt of electricity that melts my annoyance into something hotter, something needier. I’m kissing him back. I don’t even try to push him away. I let him melt into me, and I don’t know why. Probably because I haven’t felt something this good in years.
Jamie’s hands grip my waist, pulling me closer, and I can feel the hard line of his body against mine. His chest is warm, and his muscles taut beneath my fingertips. He deepens the kiss, his tongue demanding entry, his breath hot against my mouth.
A moan escapes me, my hands tangling in his brown hair in an attempt to pull him closer.
It’s been so long, yet it feels like no time has passed at all.
His kiss is familiar, yet different. It’s hungrier, more grown up.
Like he’s confident in himself and what he’s doing.
He breaks the kiss, trailing kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
I arch into him subconsciously, my breasts pressing against his chest, my nipples hardening at the mere brush of his lips.
Jamie reaches under my shirt and cups my breast, his thumb flicking my nipple. I inhale sharply, my head falling back.
“Jamie,” I whisper, my voice thick with need. God, what has gotten into me? Why am I allowing this?
His smirk is visible even in the dim light, his blue eyes dark with desire.
He pushes me back onto the bed, his hands moving lower, slipping into my sleep shorts.
His fingers lightly brush the edge of my panties, and I shiver, my body already responding to his touch.
Tell him to leave, Ellie. Tell him to get the hell out of your room and never speak of this again.
Except, I don’t do that. Instead, I let him move his hand further down until he’s cupping me. I’m so wet, and my pussy is throbbing for him like the desperate whore she is. Bad, bad idea Ellie.
He hooks his fingers into the lace, pulling my panties down my legs, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I’ve missed this,” he growls, his voice rough and raw with longing. He presses a kiss to my inner thigh, his lips warm against my skin. I squirm, but my legs fall open as he teases me with his lips, his breath ghosting over my clit.
“Jamie, please,” I practically beg, my hands gripping the sheets. Jamie chuckles, a dark, dirty sound, before his mouth closes over my clit, his tongue flicking, sucking, and driving me wild.
I can’t help the cry that leaves my lips as my hips buck against his face shamelessly.
He eats me out, his fingers digging into my thighs.
His tongue is relentless, his mouth devours me, and I can feel my orgasm building, coiling tight in my core.
I’m so close, I can feel the heat in my cheeks burn.
But instead of bringing me there, Jamie pulls away, his throbbing cock pressing against my thigh.
“Not yet,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. His voice sends a shiver down my spine as a mix of frustration and anticipation begin to make their way through me. Why on earth would he stop?
He positions himself at my entrance, his tip teasing my wetness.
Peering up at me, he waits until I nod before sliding inside me in one slow, deliberate thrust. I moan so loudly, I’m glad no one else lives here because they definitely would have heard me.
My nails dig into his back as he fills me.
His cock stretches me, fitting perfectly after all these years.
He begins to move, his hips snapping, his dick pounding into me, relentless and primal and I meet him thrust for thrust, my walls clenching around him. My breath comes in ragged gasps.
“Harder,” I demand, my voice sounding far too desperate, and he obliges, slamming into me, the bed creaking under our weight.
The room fills with the sounds of sex and once again, I’m close.
So fucking close. To my surprise, Jamies reaches between my legs, his fingers finding my clit and rubbing circles.
“Cum for me, Ellie,” he growls, his voice a command.
His words pushed me over the edge. I shatter, my body convulsing and my pussy clenching around his cock as I scream his name.
Jamie follows, his thrusts stuttering before he pulls out and cums on my stomach.
His groan vibrates against my neck before he kisses me lightly.
I jolt awake, my body aching and my pussy throbbing. Sitting up too quickly, I scan my room that is now basked in morning sunlight. It’s empty. There’s no sign of Jamie or any nefarious activities. It was a dream. A freaking dream!
Relief floods me, along with a bit of disappointment at the fact that none of it happened.
I shouldn’t feel any disappointment. This is good.
I didn’t sleep with Jamie Patterson. Why am I dreaming about it though?
Do I want to sleep with him? I mean, who wouldn’t?
The guy is seriously hot and he’s a hockey player. But I can’t. I won’t.
Taking a deep, calming breath, I fall back onto my pillow and stare up at the ceiling.
The dream felt so real, so vivid. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to look him in the face and pretend that I wasn’t dreaming about his dick ramming into me just hours ago.
Of course, he can’t know about this. His ego can’t handle growing any larger, and my pride can’t take that kind of hit.
After my cold shower, I throw my hair up into a ponytail and put on my outfit to go to rehearsal.
I always try to dress in comfortable clothes so I can easily move around and show the kids the correct blocking.
We do have a choreographer that goes over the dances with them, but I’ll occasionally get up there and show them some moves.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I make my way downstairs. Clashing around in the kitchen catches my attention. A glass smashes on the ground, and when I turn the corner, I see Jamie leaning over the counter, breathing hard.
“Jamie?” I say, taking a cautious step toward him.
He doesn’t look up; he doesn’t even move.
I set my bag down on the floor and take a step closer until I can see his face.
His eyes are closed, and his jaw is tight.
He looks like he’s trying to keep himself from breaking down, and my heart squeezes.
I don’t know what’s wrong, but I don’t like seeing him so worked up.
“Jamie, what happened? What’s wrong?” I ask with a bit of hesitation. His eyes stay shut, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
“Go away,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Jamie, I—”
“I said go away, Ellie.”
I take a step back at his dark tone. There’s clearly something wrong, and he’s not exactly ready to talk about it.
“I’m sorry, I just…”
“Jesus, Ellie!” he shouts, finally looking up at me, his eyes are full of rage and hurt. “Just get out of here!”
I jump, taking another step back, and stepping on something sharp. I hiss, and Jamie’s attention goes down to my foot. My bleeding foot. Shit, I stepped on a shard of glass.
“Damnit,” I say through gritted teeth. Pain radiates through my foot as I hobble my way over to one of the stools at the island, careful not to step on anymore glass.
“Shit, Ellie. Fuck, I’m sorry,” Jamie rushes out, moving to the counter and wetting a paper towel under the sink.
He sinks down to his knees, careful to not put too much pressure on his injury, and slowly blots the bottom of my foot with the towel.
I try to keep a brave face, but God, this hurts like hell.
I watch as Jamie delicately wraps my foot in the paper towel.
“There’s no glass in there, so that’s good.”
“Yeah, that’s good,” I agree, eyeing him carefully. His anger from before has vanished, and it’s replaced with… concern? His face twists as he looks at the blood seeping through the towel.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he apologizes. I nod. I don’t know what made him snap, but it can’t be good. The Jamie I knew was never a hot head. He didn’t yell or fight. Then again, I don’t know this version of him. Maybe this Jamie does.
“It’s fine,” I reply.
Jamie shakes his head. “No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I just… I got some bad news and I’m clearly not handling it very well. But you didn’t deserve that. So, I apologize.”
At the risk of pissing him off again, I ask, “what was the news?”
He sighs, and I watch his huge shoulders bob up and down.
“One of my teammates texted. Said coach is talking about replacing me as team captain. Can’t be captain if you’re not there, I guess.” He shrugs.
“Oh, Jamie. I’m sorry,” I practically whisper. He’s losing everything he’s worked for, and even though I should hate him, I can’t help but feel awful about the situation he’s in.
“It’s fine. I knew it would probably happen sooner rather than later. They had Theo Cramer stepping up as alternative captain. He’s a great player, and he deserves it,” he admits, seeming completely defeated. I can tell he means what he says, but it’s obvious that it hurts him to say out loud.
I place a hand on his shoulder, and he tenses.
He looks up at me through hooded eyes, still kneeling at my feet.
My heart skips a beat, and goosebumps rise on my skin when his hand brushes my calf.
Seeing him this vulnerable, it makes me so sad for him.
I know I shouldn’t, but I want to hold him.
I want to tell him that everything’s alright and that he’ll be back to himself soon.
But I can’t tell him that, because I don’t know if it’s true.
So instead, we just sit here in silence with my hand on his shoulder and his finger tracing patterns on my leg.
It feels oddly intimate, and with the way he’s looking up at me, it sends a shiver straight down my spine. His thumb traces a slow, absent pattern against my calf, and it’s such a small thing, barely anything at all, but my body reacts anyway, heat pooling low in my stomach.
I pull my hand back, breaking the moment like snapping a thread.
Jamie freezes.
His eyes lift to mine, something unreadable flickering across his face before he straightens and rises to his feet. He takes a step back immediately, distance returning like it was summoned on instinct.
“Sorry,” he says, too quickly. “I didn’t—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupt, even though my pulse is racing and my chest feels tight. “Really.”
We stand there for a beat, the kitchen suddenly too quiet, the broken glass still scattered on the floor.
“I should go,” I add. “Rehearsal.”
“Yeah,” he nods, running a hand through his hair. “Of course.”
I grab my bag, careful with my foot, and head for the door. My hand pauses on the knob. I don’t turn around, but I feel him behind me.
“For what it’s worth,” he says quietly, “I didn’t mean what I said earlier. Telling you to leave.”
My throat tightens.
“I know,” I say.
I leave before either of us can say anything more.
Rehearsal is a blur. I go through the motions.
Notes, blocking, counts, but my mind keeps drifting back to the kitchen.
To the way Jamie looked kneeling in front of me.
I know he’s going through so much right now, and as much as I want to say he deserves it, I’m not that kind of person.
I never wished him harm; I never even talked badly about him. It just… was what it was.
By the time I get home that evening, the house is quiet again and Jamie’s car is gone. He’s most likely at practice.
I shower, change, and crawl into bed, but sleep doesn’t come easily. When I close my eyes, I don’t see the dream anymore. I see him exactly as he was this morning. Raw, exhausted, and trying to hold himself together while everything he loves slips through his fingers.
And that’s somehow worse, because dreams are easy to dismiss.
Reality isn’t.