Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance

by Jami Davenport

  Gametime

  A Moo U Hockey Novel

  Jami Davenport

  This book was inspired by the True North Series written by Sarina Bowen. It is an original work that is published by Heart Eyes Press LLC.

  Copyright © 2021 by Jami Davenport. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To Lisa B. Kamps, good friend and fellow hockey romance author. Lisa had plans to write a book for Moo U when her life was cut short last fall by cancer. I miss you, Lisa, but I know you’re in a better place and keeping those angels on their toes.

  To all the children of indifferent parents: I hope you find the love and validation Paxton did in this story. Hugs to those who are struggling in these tough times. My heart goes out to you.

  To my faithful readers and the new ones who found me through this book: If my stories bring you comfort and joy, I will have done my job. I love you all. You’re the reason I do this.

  Contents

  1. Guilty by Alcohol

  2. Blame

  3. Damage Control

  4. The Challenge

  5. Regrets

  6. Hired

  7. In the Book Stacks

  8. Confessions

  9. Choices

  10. Good Game

  11. Cold Shoulder

  12. Sized Up

  13. Not so Easy

  14. Pushing Through

  15. Kindness Lecture

  16. Goodness

  17. Lost its Luster

  18. Rescue

  19. The Douche

  20. I Believe

  21. Hat Trick

  22. Taking Chances

  23. Sensible Flats

  24. First Date

  25. Sex on a Dryer

  26. Busted

  27. The Gift

  28. Surprise Visit

  29. The Undressing Room

  30. The Spiral

  31. Backsliding

  32. Comforting Arms

  33. Busted

  34. Not Okay

  35. Winner of the Game

  36. Already Gone

  37. Showdown

  38. Kicking Ass

  39. The Plan

  40. Mischief

  41. Grand Gesture

  42. Pink Skates

  You Will Also Enjoy…

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Guilty by Alcohol

  Paxton

  The hockey house was lit tonight. And I don’t mean by lights. By drunken hockey players—myself included.

  My twin brother, Patrick, had exited long ago with two hotties on his arm. We might be identical twins in appearance, but my brother always got the girls, and I got his leftovers. He was way more gregarious and outgoing. I was the quiet, serious one.

  But now the party was ending. I sat down on one of the worn, beer-stained couches and tried not to think about what else it might be stained with. It’d probably be a petri dish of… Okay, I wasn’t going there.

  Being alone on a Saturday night after the first hockey game of the year was bad enough. I was a junior at Burlington University in Vermont, fondly known as Moo U by the locals and pretty much everyone else in the state.

  Watching my brother revel in his hockey-team star status after a typically fantastic game brought out the ugly in me. I was jealous of him, and I hated being jealous of my brother. He was the best guy I knew and deserved all the good things in his life. Yet being the one always in his immense shadow proved more and more difficult. I played my supporting role as I always had, bolstering him in any way possible, sending the puck his way, and deflecting defensemen intent on mowing him down. That used to be enough, but this year was different. This was my year to break out. My year to establish myself.

  Beer made me sleepy, and apparently, shots of whiskey made me grouchy.

  I’d sworn things would be different this season. I’d have more fun, get more involved, shed my role as the smart, nerdy brother, while Patrick was the fun, partying brother.

  Did I mention Patrick even had a cool nickname? The team called him Trick because he’d had a hat trick his freshman year, scoring three goals in one game. I, on the other hand, was merely known as Pax, short for Paxton. No good story there.

  A blonde staggered by and spilled some of her beer on my jeans. I did a double take.

  Oh, my God. Wait.

  Naomi?

  I blinked a few times, forcing my eyes to focus and focus they did.

  That blonde was Naomi Smith, the unrequited love of my life. Naomi was petite with gray eyes that had a warmth and humor that drew me in. She’d dyed her hair blonde in the past week, rather than the caramel color I’d so loved. I wondered if the change of color had anything to do with my brother, who was currently working his way through the blondes on campus.

  She wore a skintight dress showing ample cleavage. The skirt’s hem teased the bottom of her rounded ass. She teetered on these really high heels. The overall look was smoking, but so not her usual style, more the style of the females my brother preferred.

  “Oops, sorry,” she said with words as slurred as mine were.

  “That’s okay.” I met her gaze, and her eyes widened when she realized it was me. My heart rate sped up as a result. It was no secret that Naomi had a crush on Patrick, but he was oblivious. She and I’d been good friends since our freshman year, and I’d heard all about her pining for my twin.

  She dropped down on the couch next to me, sitting way too close for comfort. “What’re you doing sitting here alone?”

  “Waiting for you. I’ve been waiting for you for a lifetime.” The mass doses of alcohol I’d consumed made me bold and stupid, but I didn’t have the wherewithal to shut up before I blew my cover, and I’d blown it good this time.

  She laughed, and it sounded like a siren’s song reeling me into my fate. I smiled back.

  “Your dad’s a piece of work,” she noted. Not that she hadn’t experienced my dad before, but he’d taken it to a whole new level tonight.

  “I know.”

  “Don’t feel bad. So is my dad. He wishes I’d been born a boy, or at least a female with skating talent. He hates that I have zero athletic ability.”

  We exchanged glances. We’d had this talk before, and our mutual problems with our fathers were one of the things that’d bound us together.

  She snuggled close to me and leaned her head on my shoulder. While she watched the crowd buzz around us, I contemplated my next move or if there should be one. Taking a chance, I dropped my hand to her bare thigh. She sighed and snuggled closer. I slid my hand higher, and her legs parted while she made a happy little purring sound from deep in her throat.

  I turned my head and Naomi lifted hers, regarding me with interest, sexual interest, and my hopes bumped up slightly. I cocked a brow at her. She put her hand over mine and guided it farther upward.

  “Oh, touch me,” she gasped. And then I did exactly as she suggested.

  Whoa. “You’re really wet.” And I was really hard. Painfully so. I hoped like hell she wasn’t playing me, because this was a fantasy come true.

  “Do you want to fuck me?” She arched toward my waiting fingers.

  I blinked several times, not sure I’d heard her correctly. Naomi wasn’t known for her tact, but her proposition was still almost too good to be true. I’d waited what seemed like a lifetime to hear those words from her lush mouth.

  “Well, do you?” she demanded impatiently.


  “I…uh, uh… Hell yeah,” I admitted, unable to keep up the charade of being good friends without any benefits. I fucking wanted those benefits. “And you?”

  “I’ve wanted to strip you naked since I first met you.”

  “That’s not just drunk talk?” I questioned because my insecure self required validation. I’d never picked up on her being interested in me, or I’d have gladly made the first move.

  “If it is, it’s drunk talk by both of us.”

  “We might regret this in the morning.” I gave her one more chance to back out and prayed she wouldn’t; all the while my fingers stroked her, causing her to groan.

  “I can assure you, I won’t regret a thing, other than not doing this sooner.” She clumsily straddled me and rested her palms on my chest. Leaning close, she pressed those heavenly lips against mine. Any reason or sanity remaining escaped my brain faster than the team scattered whenever the police showed up to shut down one of our epic parties.

  She grasped my shirt collar, and her mouth was hot, demanding. Two could play that game. I demanded right back. Our kiss was deep and scorching and sloppy. Just like I liked it. One of her hands slid downward past my waistband until she was squeezing the bulge in my jeans. I groaned, and I swear my eyes rolled back in my head and fireworks exploded. I slid both hands up her skirt and squeezed handfuls of her incredible bare ass.

  She drove me beyond reason, and I’d have screwed her right here on this couch for the entire team to witness if one small shred of sanity hadn’t invaded my horny skull.

  Reluctantly, I broke off the kiss and drew back. “Not here,” I rasped, breathing heavily.

  She made a pouty face. “Not here?”

  I briefly considered my options. Do I unzip my jeans and move aside her G-string for a quick hookup on the couch in front of everyone, or find somewhere private and make it an all-night affair?

  As desperate as I was to be inside her, I opted for multiple orgasms over instant gratification.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said, reading my mind.

  I didn’t have to be propositioned a second time. I lumbered to my feet and grabbed her hand. “Where to?”

  “You live with your twin, and I have a private dorm room.”

  “Your place then.”

  We half ran, half staggered the several blocks from the hockey house to the dorm, laughing all the way there and stopping on occasion for brief make-out sessions. Once we stepped inside the dorm room, I kicked the door shut and locked it. We didn’t bother turning on the lights. Sex by touch worked for me. Any sex with Naomi worked for me.

  Naomi grabbed the collar of my button-down and ripped the buttons off—and I do mean ripped. Seconds later, my jeans were pooled at my ankles. This girl didn’t waste any time. I shrugged out of what was left of my favorite shirt, kicked off my shoes, and stepped out of my jeans.

  Naomi was still wearing all her clothes. Time to rectify that. I reached for her, barely able to make out her sexy silhouette. Her mouth was hot on mine as she clawed at my bare chest.

  “You’re still dressed,” I panted.

  “Let me fix that.” She kicked off her shoes, and the dress and G-string followed, then we fell onto the bed together. I’d have liked her to leave those shoes on, but now wasn’t the time to get hung up on details. She pushed me onto the bed and was on top of me in no time, rubbing her delectable body across mine and grinding into my painfully hard cock.

  I needed her and now, but I wouldn’t be that guy who didn’t give as much pleasure as he got. Besides, Naomi was special. I’d dreamed of this moment for two years. Another few minutes wouldn’t kill me. I had to make this last for her. Naomi had other ideas.

  She ran her hand up and down my dick. “You’re so big. I knew you’d be big.” She fisted it and pumped her hand up and down. As much as I loved her hand job, I was going to blow all over if she didn’t stop.

  “Naomi, I—”

  “I get it.” She once again read my mind. “I want you inside me. We can take it slow the next time.”

  There was going to be a next time? My heart sang with joy.

  She leaned across me and opened the small drawer on the nightstand, pulling out a handful of condoms. I banished doubts from my mind that I was just another one of her conquests. And Naomi had a lot of those, if the rumors were true. She was as big of a heartbreaker as my brother. Enjoy the moment, I told myself. Don’t overthink this.

  Straddling my thighs, she rolled the condom onto my cock with expert efficiency. Unable to be an observer a second longer, I flipped her onto her back. She parted her legs and arched her hips toward mine, begging me to take her. I didn’t have the willpower to resist the invitation; taking it slow would have to happen later.

  “Bury that big cock deep inside me,” she begged.

  I gladly obliged.

  As soon as the tip entered that wet, inviting entrance, she dug her fingernails into my back, wrapped those beautiful legs around my tortured body, and met me halfway.

  I was in fucking heaven. Being inside her felt better than any fantasy or wet dream I’d ever had and far surpassed any woman I’d ever been with, and I’d had my fair share.

  She pressed against me, moaning and thrashing her head on the pillow. What a beautiful sight she was all hot and sweaty and primed for me and me alone.

  I began to move inside her, attempting to take it slow, but Naomi would have none of that. She made it clear this was raunchy, down-and-dirty sex, and I was on board every stroke of the way. She met my desperate thrusts with thrusts of her own as we banged each other into oblivion and beyond.

  My cock twitched and my impending orgasm pulsed through me. I gritted my teeth to hold myself together a little longer. I wasn’t coming without her. Reaching between us, I found that little nub and worked her into a bigger frenzy than we were already in. Her body told me it was time, and I exploded at the same time she did.

  We clung to each other as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over us, each one more powerful than the one before it, until I was certain I’d die of a pleasure overdose. Surely, a mere mortal wouldn’t survive such emotional extremes. Yet somehow, I managed, which had to be the eighth wonder of the world.

  As we came down off the greatest natural high known to man and woman, I hugged her close. She nuzzled my shoulder and planted lazy kisses on my collarbone.

  I’d never experienced such perfect bliss, such contentment, such a feeling of being right where I needed to be. This was everything. She was my everything. My heart sang with joy, and I reveled in the moment. I’d never known sheer perfection until now. Naomi was perfect for me, as I’d always suspected she’d be.

  “I love you. I’ve always loved you. You are my one and only.” I blurted out the truth I’d been holding in since I’d first met her in Psych 101.

  “I love you, too.” Naomi murmured her agreement before she faded off to sleep.

  I was giddy from our mutual declaration of love for each other. We were finally on the same page with an entire future in front of us, and I couldn’t wait to read the rest of the book.

  2

  Blame

  Naomi

  I woke up feeling like my life was finally on track.

  The guy I’d been lusting after the past two years was finally in my bed, and we’d had sheet-scorching sex all night long. We were explosive and insatiable together and hadn’t fallen into a deep sleep until three or four a.m. But who checked the time when you were experiencing something timeless? We’d dozed here and there.

  Through the slowly lifting fog of drunkenness and fading haze of lust, I attempted to reconstruct what we’d done and said last night.

  I’d had sex before. Actually, a lot of it, but this was different. This experience was almost Zen-like. Like two halves coming together to make a whole. Like finding your soul mate. Like my wildest fantasies come true. If that wasn’t Zen, I don’t know what was.

  And I wasn’t a Zen-like person.

  I was
a numbers person. I loved my stats and my details.

  Numbers didn’t work in this situation because numbers didn’t feel, and I was definitely feeling.

  Patrick, or Trick as some of his teammates called him, opened one eye and then the other. He smiled at me as brightly as the sun streaming in the window of my dorm room. Since the sky had been cloudy for a week, and I was feeling my inner Zen, the rays of light warming my naked body were a good sign.

  I stretched in the bed like a lioness who’d had a good hunt the night before. Patrick propped his head on an elbow. His hot gaze seared a path across my naked body. I wasn’t modest, and I enjoyed knowing he liked what he saw, because I sure AF loved what I saw.

  “Good morning,” he whispered in a raspy voice full of sleep, sex, and contentment. His smoldering blue eyes contradicted the lazy way one of his hands kneaded the flesh on my waist.

  “That was epic.” My smugly satisfied smile backed up my words.

  “Yeah, it was.” He sounded in awe, almost as if he hadn’t expected this, which was weird because I’d been pursuing him for two years.

  “You have some incredible stamina.”

  “So do you,” he said with a chuckle.

  Sometime in the early-morning hours, he’d told me he loved me, and I’d said it back. I wasn’t going to hold him to that particular declaration just yet. I’d give him time for things to sink in. After all, people were often their most honest when they were drunk. Now that he was sober again, he’d back off, but I’d wait for him to come to terms with his feelings, once he’d let them be known.