“Want you so bad, babe.” My voice comes out as a gasp.
Jamie turns his head to see the screen. His lips part slightly as he tracks the frantic motion of my hand. His fist moves faster too, matching my tempo. For the first time all week, we’re in sync. We’re not even in the same room, yet I feel closer to him than I have in days, and we’re so hot for each other right now that we’re both panting and groaning and tugging our cocks with damn near desperation.
“Gonna come,” he moans.
“Do it,” I moan back. “Shoot on your chest.”
He makes a beautiful sound, and a pearly ribbon of perfection paints a line down his abs. His six-pack clenches as he shoots again. And again.
Me too. I fuck my hand hard and fast. I want to be home with him so badly it aches. But the last dregs of my game-night adrenaline still fuel me. All that anguish and longing surge down my spine and I erupt in my own hand.
A minute passes while I calm down. Wordlessly, Jamie disappears from view. I clean myself up and wait for him to reappear.
After a minute or so, he slides into bed, under the coversthis time. Then he rolls to face the camera, his smooth cheek propped in his hand. “I spoke to Jess today,” he starts.
I smile. I love Jamie’s youngest sister. She’s the flightiest chick I’ve ever met, but boy is she entertaining. “How’s she doing? Still designing jewelry?”
He chuckles, and the sound warms my heart. “Nope. Now she wants to be a party planner.”
“Of course she does.”
“Hey, she might be good at it.” But he’s still chuckling even as he comes to his sister’s defense. Then he goes quiet for a beat, and just like that, my nerves are raw again.
“What’s wrong?” I ask gruffly.
I see the telltale dip of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “Nothing. Well, something. Not wrong, really, but just some things I wanted to get off my chest.” Another beat. “But it can keep.”
My throat is so tight I can barely speak. “Jamie…” That’s all I manage to get out.
“You look beat,” he says firmly. “You should get some sleep. We’ll talk when you get back.”
Talk...or break up?
I think he sees the panic on my face, because he lets out another breath, then speaks in a firm voice. “I love you. So much.”
My heart does a little flip. He sounds like he means it.
Damn it, of course he means it, I assure myself. We fucking love each other. “I love you, too,” I say softly.
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good. Now go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
THIRTEEN
JAMIE
Wes gets two tickets to every home game, and I’m the only one who uses them.
They’re awesome seats—on the aisle a couple rows behind the home team bench. In fact, I’m surrounded by other players’ families. The veterans must get more seats or something because there’s a whole section of people who screams whenever Lukoczik touches the puck. And the couple who sits next to me at every game are actually Blake Riley’s parents. And giant Blake is the spitting image of his…mom. She’s big-boned and big-mouthed with floppy hair shot through with gray.
His dad, on the other hand? A skinny professorial type. Genetics. They’re nutty. And if Team Riley thinks it’s weird that I show up alone for every game, they’ve never said so.
I’ve missed the warm-ups and make it to my seats just at the end of the national anthem. I’m quite proficient at “O Canada” these days. Had to learn the lyrics for my juniors team. The coach can’t just stand there and mouth “watermelon watermelon watermelon” like an asshole.
Tonight I have a headache, which is unusual. So I stick the straw into a really overpriced soda I bought on the way in and take a deep drink, hoping that a shot of sugar and caffeine will cure it. I need to feel better, because Wes wants to go out after the game.
I do too, because in the three days he’s been home, I’ve been slacking on my whole communicate-with-your-partner mission. I told Jess I’d talk to Wes, and I almost had the night we sex-Skyped the hell out of each other. But that moment of connection, seeing his gorgeous face peering back at me, so full of lust and longing...I hadn’t wanted to ruin it by bringing our pesky problems into the mix. And then he came home, and all the real-life sex was even better than jerking off to a computer screen. I didn’t want to ruin that either.
Maybe I’m a chicken shit. My sister would definitely agree with that. But things have been good, damn it. Wes and I have been in sync since he got back and I’m too terrified to put us out of rhythm again.
