Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
COOPER
When she yawned, I carried her upstairs—Sutton tried to tell me she’d drive home, but I wasn’t letting her go again—and tucked her into my bed after helping her change into one of my shirts per her request.
She’s lying on her side, facing me.
I can’t stop touching her. We can’t stop touching each other.
Her long legs are pretzeled with mine. One of my hands is holding hers, the other playing with a loose curl from the top bun she pulled her hair into.
“I’m happy I’m here,” she murmurs.
“I’m happy you chose me,” I admit.
The corners of her mouth pull upward. “Did I even have a choice?”
“You always do.” Truthful, but… “But I was going to make it hard not to pick me.”
“Didn’t take you as a pick-me boy when it came to girls.”
“Girl.”
“Why do you keep saying girl?” She yawns. The alarm clock on my bedside table reads after midnight.
Sutton’s eyes flutter closed when I say, “Because there’s only ever been you.”
I kiss her temple. Let my forehead rest there and fall asleep right behind her.
Before this, I didn’t do sleepovers. I barely even let my roommates or girls into my room. For the past year or so, the four walls of my dorm and bedroom were a battleground.
I stopped bringing people back to my place, too consumed and worried with what they’d see when they entered.
Girls expect the Cooper Carmichael that’s out on the ice or in their classroom.
The one who is a stained glass window, letting light reflect through me to reflect the painting of who I’m supposed to be.
But what would they see? I can’t fake that here.
Would they see a coward, or think I’m ungrateful for the life paved for me? Selfish to be considering anything other than going professional? Would they see the pole balancing on my shoulders? One side loaded with comparison, the other with obligation.
Even with Sutton, at the start, I was worried.
Before that day years ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice, but then she hated me.
I became another version of myself, yearning for her but hiding it by becoming the villain in her story.
Clinging to tossed hazel daggers across rooms, competing with her in class, teasing and taunts, a nickname she outwardly hated, but I saw inwardly how much she loved it.
Wearing her favorite bracelet and combining our jersey numbers.
Now, she sees through me. I think if I let her, she would have earlier.
Maybe I should have apologized, or told her the truth, all those years ago. Maybe I wouldn’t have ended up as big of a mess as I am now.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Sutton shifts, hogging more comforter. She fell asleep in my arms, but I quickly learned she doesn’t cuddle. I don’t even think I’m a sleeping cuddler. My arm awkwardly positioned under her, my bicep fell asleep, and it took twenty minutes to stop the tingling.
I roll over, dragging the sleeping beauty into me.
“Mmmm.”
“Morning, baby,” I mumble into the fabric by her ear.
“Baby.”
“Do you want me to call you something else?”
“No. I like baby.”
“Okay, baby.”
“Sutton and Dave are still good, too.”
“They’ll be on rotation. Mine somewhere in the mix, too.” I can feel her smile. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good. You?” She turns over, faces me.
“Me too.”
She wiggles further into me. Kisses my nose. “I like waking up with you.”
“I could get used to it.”
“Our roommates might get sick of us.”
“As if they aren’t already.” I kiss her lips. “What are your plans today?”
“I was going to go on a run. I’m up to five miles now,” she says proudly. “Or skating.”
“Want to go after breakfast?”
“Cooper, no. You have a game later. Aren’t you late for morning skate, already? What time is it?”
“The game is at eight.” The girls are playing before us, which is why Coach cancelled our morning skate.
The Pond is open from eleven to twelve if we want to go.
“We have the morning off, and you don’t have morning classes today, which means”—I undo her confines, push myself over top of her—“I have all morning to spend with you.” I drop my weight onto her.
Bring my mouth to hers and murmur, “Thinking I could spend time here.” Roll my hips against hers.
Sutton swallows a moan. “Then some real breakfast. Then we can go on the run. Maybe some lunch.” I roll my hips against her again, this time, I capture her light, airy moan.
“You could study or whatever in my bed. Your bed or couch, I don’t care.
You drive me to my game, and then afterward I could go home with you. ”
I roll my hips a third time. Sutton circles her legs around my hips, holding me to her.
“I’d like that.” Her hips move over mine. “A lot, but there’s one problem with your plans.”
She leans to her right, flipping us over. Her thighs on either side of mine. She rolls her hips and leans down to kiss me.
“What’s that?” I ask breathily, extremely turned on.
“It’s finally later.”
She starts kissing along my jaw, down my bare chest. Her tongue traces the divots of my abdomen. Leaving a sizzling trail of heat behind.
Dainty fingers curl in the waistband of my boxer briefs. Her nails tickle the sensitive skin as she drags them down my legs.
Sutton sits up. Her nipples hard and pointed, their outline visible through my white shirt. The same color as her underwear with the smallest pink bow in the center, which was the center of most of my dreams last night.
I don’t think she realizes how her eyes are tracking over my body. Her lower body shifts, rubbing against my thigh as she tracks lower and lower. Sutton’s tongue peeks out, licking her lips demurely.
“You’re so…Wow. I…um…well…”
She falters for a minute. It shows in the way her eyes widen, pupils flare. Hesitation. Unhabituated. Her eyes flick left and right. “So like, I’ve only—”
“You don’t need to do this.” I swipe a knuckle down her cheek.
“I want to. Just—”
“You’re going to make it so good, baby.” I let out a gentle, hopefully soothing, more pathetic than anything, laugh. “Look at me. One touch, any touch, of yours and I’m already barely hanging on.” I run a curl through my fingers.
With a slight wiggle, I move my body up the bed, push my shoulders into a crunch against the headboard so I can comfortably see her.
She’s beautiful.
Positioned above me. Heated and desire-soaked hazels, and cheeks dipped cherry red. I pull a scrunchie off my wrist, lean forward an inch to gather her hair curtaining her face. I tie it off for her.
“Is that mine?”
“You left it here a couple of weeks ago.” She arches a brow. “Finders keepers, losers weepers.”
She sticks her tongue out at me teasingly. “You’ll teach me though? Tell me what you like.”
When I nod, Sutton lowers her mouth onto me. All. The. Way. The hesitation from minutes ago dissipating. Holy fuck. My groan works through my body. Rolling its way from where she is through my abs and chest, and up my throat.
Sutton works up and down, once. Her mouth makes a popping noise when she pulls herself off me and sits up. I whimper at the loss of contact.
Her hand wraps around me, and she pulls a slow, hesitant stroke. Then repeats it again and again. “Is this okay?”
“M-mor-more than okay,” I can barely get out. “So good.”
“So you like it?”
“Sutton. Baby, please. Keep going.”
Sutton leans forward, returns her mouth to me.
I’m a goner for this girl, always have been. But now? I’m rocketed out of this world. Her touch is the flames that carry me straight through the atmosphere.
I’ve never seen stars before, not like this.
My chest rises and falls, picking up as she drags her mouth down and up in a god-sent pace. I can’t hold myself back much longer.
Sutton takes her hand, finds my free one, placing it on her head. My fucking girl. She wants direction, not that she needs it. Always hungry to learn.
I twist her messy ponytail around my fist, push down on the back of her head. There’s a quiet choking noise. “You’re so good. That’s perfect.”
It happens again, but she doesn’t let up.
I don’t conceal the noises coming out of me. My hips thrusting up. It hits me out of nowhere, without warning. My body stills with exhilaration and a new intoxicating high that I think I’m already addicted to.
She works around my twitching, taking everything.
Sutton sits up, licks her lips, and smiles down at me.
Thirty minutes later, Sutton pulls my shirt over her head. It drowns her, but that’s okay, she drowns out a lot of things in my life.
Her hair is tied back in a much neater ponytail now.
I’m tugging on sweatpants, but can’t stop looking or smiling at her. She’s the same way.
I hold the door open for her. Sutton slips under my arm, bending down to taunt me about my height.
“I’m tall,” I say, catching her at the top of the stairs.
“Yeah, for an average guy.”
She jogs down a few stairs. I go after her. Scoop her up with my arms around her waist. “We both know there’s nothing average about me.”
“I mean…”
I nip at her ear, and she starts laughing. Shaking her head to avoid my teeth. I push my fingers in her side like I’m playing an instrument. Tickling her without dropping her as we make our way down the stairs.
She’s laughing around her meaningless stops.
I put her on the ground, move my hands to her shoulders, and help guide her to the kitchen—
“Whoa, there, Cap.”
The entire room is filled with my team. Twenty-six sets of eyes are on us.
Dawson stands up, hand extended in the direction of one of the senior wingers. “You owe me twenty. Told you he was upstairs with a girl.”
“You owe me ten of that,” our backup goalie pipes in.
“Why?” he scoffs like a girl.
“I bet it was someone we know.”
“You know who Sutton is?”
“Yeah? Who doesn’t?” the goalie questions back.
There’s an exchange of cash among several of my teammates, roommates, and best friends included. Some clap. Some shovel food into their mouths, pretending not to notice us.
We take a seat together in the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” she asks into my shoulder.
“Team breakfast.”
“Since when did you do team breakfast?”
“Since early February.” Jaxon hands us two plates. “Cooper had the idea after some project he’s working on.”
Sutton eyes me knowingly. She steps out of my embrace to take the plate. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Becky made pancakes. But you’ve gotta catch ’em—only way to eat. Whoever catches the most gets to pick the music on the bus for our next away game.”
“What’s the record this morning?”
“Six,” Beckett grunts.
“Alright, hit me, Chef.”
Beckett turns and gets in position. Even he’s enjoying these breakfasts, might not speak much during them, grunt and elbow people out of the way to clean up after, but he cracks a smile here and there.
Sutton catches the first two. “What happens if I miss one?”
“Your turn is over.” I saddle up next to her. Try to step in front of her to block the next pancake.
“Oh no way, Superstar.” It slips from her lips so casually. “Ha.” She catches the next two despite my attempts at distraction. Then catches another two, and the entire room leans in with anticipation.
When the seventh pancake falls onto her plate, the room erupts.
“What are you going to pick? Taylor Swift,” Tristan, the sophomore I spent all last year training one-on-one under Coach’s request, speaks up. The disappointed tone leads me to believe he was the one who caught six.
“Pick 1989, please. That’s my favorite album,” Jaxon adds. Of course it is.
Sutton laughs. “I’ll let your captain pick.”
Tristan eyes her up and down. “Fine. At least he has good taste.”
I chuck a pancake at him.
The guys make room for us at one of the folding tables set up. There are four of them that run from our kitchen into the living room.
I inhale my breakfast, one arm tossed around the back of her chair.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel completely light. Present and engaged. Like the guy I want to be, who I really am.
Our front door opens, and a leggy blonde flounces in.
“Good morning, hockey boys.” Elliot coos. “Ooo, pancakes.”
“Who invited you?” Chase asks.
“Did I need to be invited? I’m Elliot Jones.”