Jack’s been pushing himself hard getting ready for playoffs, desperate to prove to the team and coaching staff that they did the right thing putting their faith in him as team captain.
Meanwhile, I’ve been working my ass off in my classes and helping Jack study to help keep his GPA up.
Bradley tried to contest the protective order, not realizing I had been taking pictures of the abuse, and once the pictures were submitted as evidence, the judge granted the protective order to be upheld for five years. Dad encouraged me to notify Wilder University of the protective order, and Bradley ended up getting kicked off the football team.
Since then, he’s laid low, and if we ever do cross paths on campus, the moment he sees me, he immediately turns in the other direction. It’s a relief knowing he’s obeying the restraining order, and I’m hopeful I’ll never have to worry about him putting his hands on me again.
Jack is sitting on the bench, spraying water into his mouth, and I’m practically foaming at the mouth over how stupidly hot he is. Almost like he can feel me staring at him, he scans the crowd, smiling when his eyes find mine. I blow him a kiss, and his smile grows wider.
I’m so fucking in love with him.
The rest of the game flies by, and the second Jack appears after the game, I’m wrapping myself around him as he catches me without hesitation. “You played fucking amazing,” I say, hugging him tight.
“Thanks, darlin’,” he says, and the use of his favorite pet name for me causes me to shiver. I press my lips roughly against his, feeling Jack reciprocate a moment later.
“Do we have to go to Twin City to celebrate?” I mumble against his addictive mouth. I don’t particularly want to put a pin in this until later.
“Fuck no.”
I laugh as he kisses me again before setting me down on the ground after I unwind myself from around him. “I should probably say hi to my dad, he looked excited about the win,” I say, as the rest of our friends walk up to us, unsurprised when we say we’re skipping the celebration at the bars tonight.
My dad is busy with a post-game press conference with Coop, of all people, but I shoot him a quick text congratulating him on the win.
We started doing family dinners every other Wednesday, making an effort to mend the fractured relationship. My dad realized after a couple of weeks of Jack and I dating that we weren’t something temporary, and he extended an ongoing invitation for Jack to join us.
A few weeks might not seem like much to some people, but for Jack, who had never committed to anyone before? It was an eternity, proving that he was serious about us being together.
After a little over two months, Macy and Ellie are planning our wedding.
I’m happy, Jack’s happy, and he’s still performing well in games. Actually scratch that—he’s fucking amazing, but I don’t think those are the same verbs my dad would use.
Ha, suck it, Dad. I’mnota distraction to him.
When we get to his truck, I’m tempted to pull Jack into the backseat, but it doesn’t give us enough room to do everything I hope we’re going to do tonight. I even sit on top of my hands while he drives because I don’t trust myself to keep my hands off him.
It’s never enough with him. I want his hands on me all the time, and I can’t tell if I like to be under Jack’s powerful body more than I like to be on top of him.
The minute we’re at his house, all bets are off. Our mouths are clashing against each other, his tongue is in my mouth, and mine’s in his. My hands are in his hair as Jack presses me against a wall, grinding against me.
Jack releases a soft moan, and it’s music to my ears. “Jack,” I breathe out, and he presses his mouth against mine again, silencing me.
Close, closer,not close enough.
Jack trails down, sucking on the soft skin at the base of my throat. “Jack, you’ve given Dylan too much shit for us to fuck in the living room.” The idea is tempting, though.
“We could, and just not tell them.” Jack pulls away, breathing heavily as he tucks some of my curls behind my ears. “Much better. I want to see your pretty face.”
“Nope, it’s a shared space, and I prefer your bed, or maybe even your shower?”
“Fuck, you’re right. Upstairs it is.”
He’s like a man on a mission, lifting me up and causing me to giggle while he takes the stairs two at a time.
The second we cross the threshold into his room, I pull off his jersey, shedding the rest of my clothes as Jack does the same. My mouth waters at the sight of his muscular body, and Jack tilts his head at me, smirking. “Are you checking me out?”
There once was a time I would have rather died than admit I was checking him out, but now, I hold my head high. “One hundred percent, yes. If hockey doesn’t work out for you, I think you should consider a career in modeling.”
“Whatever. Business is my future if hockey doesn’t work out.” Yeah, right. Jack would suffocate in an office job. Hockey is most certainly in his future.
