“Shh, I’m not going anywhere.” Jamal smooths my hair back with both his hands and stares at me. His face is a shade darker from the exertion, and theair crackles between us. My heart speeds up, and my chest heaves, shifting him along with it.
The right words elude me, and I’m sure he’s going to say something until he inches forward and presses his lips to mine in an earth-shattering chaste kiss. A simple kiss shouldn’t say so much.
It’s like he doesn’t have the words either, but the kiss says it all. I want you. I need you. I’m falling for you. I’m scared shitless. Or maybe I’m projecting? I cling to him, afraid of what happens after.
After I’ve given him the only thing I have for him. Will he be done with me? We said we’d be exclusive, but he could still end it.
“Stop.” Jamal cups my face. “I can hear your brain lying to you.” I open my mouth, but his palm curves in to cover it. “The one thing about being an overthinker with high anxiety is that I can sense it in other people. Don’t let your head take away from this.”
My insides clench at his perception, and my mouth tries to wreck this. “It’s your head I want every morning.” I buck up, forcing him deeper inside me.
He kisses my forehead. “Shower?” He leads me into the hotel bathroom and starts the water. I’m riveted by his routine of tucking his hair under a shower cap. Fuck. He makes everything sexy.
I’m only slightly obsessed with all his products neatly lined up on the counter. He’s dedicated to buying from Black-owned businesses and uses his social media to promote products he likes. Of course, he never puts himself in the pictures.
Jamal leads me into the large shower stall. It’s amazing how something I do on the daily can be so different. I’ve technically showered with men my entire life. But none of those showers included touching and kissing. Our hands don’t stop. He traces every part of my body at least twice to soap up and to rinse.
My breath catches when he kneels behind me, pressing his lips to each of my cheeks before pulling them apart.
“Are you sore?” Jamal asks as his tongue laps at my rim.
“No,” I lie. I resist the urge to ask him if he’s seen his dick and if he thinks anyone could take it without being sore.
“You look tender.” His thumbs stroke each side of my swollen hole, and I push my ass back to get more of his mouth.
“I won’t say no to you taking care of me.” The words are out, and I can’t reel them back. The last thing I need is for him to take care of me. I’m already in too deep and don’t see a way out.
Jamal turns me to face him, still kneeling. “It would be my pleasure.” All his white teeth flash me before he buries his face in my groin.
I’m doomed.
Letting my guard down is a mistake I can’t repeat. I’m frozen in place, my shirt only half on, staring at Mav. The visiting team locker room in Pittsburgh is the same as all the rest, but it’s suddenly too small, claustrophobic even.
“Dude, chill. I’m not gonna run to the tabloids. Good on you for getting road pussy.” Mav holds his fist up to bump, and I swat it away.
They don’t know I’m bi, so the team assumes a woman left a bruise on my pec and teeth marks on my shoulder, not the man a couple of lockers away smugly smirking.
I managed to change several times in front of the team without revealing the evidence of our hookups. But I got lazy and too comfortable. We said we’re exclusive and more than a fling, but my brain is having a hard time trusting that.
We sort of talked about this in a hypothetical way. We don’t need to involve our team or others yet. My choice, and he agreed but also said he won’t lie if asked directly.
This isn’t a direct question, but I’m not ready to correct Mav. But staying silent feels wrong, like a betrayal.
“Of all guys to be shy about banging a puck bunny, O’Keefe would be last on my list.” Brant whips an unused towel in my direction.
Ace’s eyes are on Jamal, and I wonder if he notices his matching mark or the grin he’s hiding. “Interesting.” Ace clucks his tongue. Jamal’s is much harder tosee. It could be a shadow or a trick of the light. Jamal turns toward his locker, pulling his base layer down.
The Pittsburgh Ironmen fans boo us as we skate out for the game. It’s time to lock my shit down and concentrate on winning.
Drake loses the face-off, but I’m there to strip the puck and pass it to Ace. The game starts fast, and I’m winded after my first shift. Grayson slaps my back and hands me a water bottle.
I get to watch Jamal play for a few minutes and almost miss my shift because I can’t take my eyes off him. We’ll only be on the ice together for one play, so I want to make it count.
Checking an Ironman into the boards, I recover the puck and pass it to Jamal. He races down the ice, and Mav’s in position to receive, but the Pittsburgh defender cuts off his angle. He slaps the puck to me, and in one shot, I fire it to Mav, who scores.
We meet for a celly, and I’m relieved when Jamal wraps me in a hug instead of being annoyed I took his assist.
Winning on the road is the key to getting into the playoffs. Each early win might make the difference at the end of the season when players get injured.
