Pain washed through me. The moment pulled out long and taut as I stared at him. That was what he was really afraid of? Oh my God.
I pulled my hand out of his and crawled onto his lap, sliding my arms around his neck, pressing my cheek against his. “No. God, no. I already told you—I love you no matter what.”
“I know,” he choked out. “You showed me that.”
“And you won’t play like crap. You won’t. You’re so talented, and you work so hard. You’re determined and persistent. You’re going to be fine. Better than ever.”
“Only if you’re with me. You make me better.”
“No, I don’t.” I laid my palm on his cheek and looked into his eyes. “You do that. You may not realize it, but you need to. You need to know how strong you are. How good you are. I love you, Chase.”
“Fuck.” His arms crushed me to him, and he closed his eyes.
“I love how generous and thoughtful you are. On our first date…and our second date…and our third date, which was epic. Even our date where you took me to the hospital and you were so kind to those boys. I think that’s when I knew I was falling hard for you.”
His chest heaved. “Okay, it’s not you that makes me better…it’s loving you. It’s caring more about someone else than myself. Wanting to take care of you and be there for you. Hurting because you couldn’t sing when it’s what you love so much.”
“Oh.” I choked on a sob. “That’s how I feel too…it hurts me that you’re hurting. I want so much for you, Chase. I hated that you were getting depressed, that you weren’t enjoying hockey anymore, when it’s what you love. That was why I pushed you. I’m sorry, I know I made you mad, but—”
“Don’t apologize.” His voice was rough, and his hand came up to cup the back of my head. “Don’t apologize for caring. God. I feel like I don’t deserve you.”
“We deserve each other. Neither of us is perfect. But together we’re pretty damn close.”
He made a rough noise of amusement. “Yeah. That’s true. I didn’t know what to do with someone who cared about me unconditionally. I’m sorry I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand the gift that kind of love is. Shit. I’m getting all mushy.”
I smiled and shifted so I could kiss his mouth. “Can’t have that, tough guy.”
He held my face in both hands and kissed me back, a long, heartfelt kiss of acceptance and gratitude. He kissed me again, licking inside my mouth, and the kiss went hotter, liquid heat building between my legs.
“Chase. I missed you so much.”
“Me too, baby. So damn much. Missed talking to you. Laughing with you. Missed your music and your mess and your arms around me. Missed being inside your sweet, tight pussy.”
“Oh.” My insides did a flip-flop. “I missed that too. I want you inside me.”
“Show me your bedroom.”
Dizzy and aching, I rose to my feet. He stood too, clasping my hand, and I led him down the hall to my bedroom.
Chapter 23
Chase
The lamp on the nightstand was on, and we paused next to the unmade bed.
I surveyed the tangled duvet, amused. “Guess I should have known your bed wouldn’t be made.”
“You still love me though.”
“I do.” My eyes fell on the stuffed rabbit sitting on the dresser. “Is that Cinnabunny?”
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and looked up at me through her eyelashes. “Yes.”
“I wouldn’t care if you still slept with a stuffed bunny.”
“I-I don’t. But thank you.”
“Let’s get you out of this top. It’s been making me crazy since I walked in here.”
It was a simple ribbed cotton tank top, but it was tight and her bra was thin and I’d been distracted by her sweet tits and hard nipples from the minute she’d opened the door. I attempted to whisk it over her head, but dammit, my cast bashed her in the side of the head.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry, sorry.” I touched her hair. Fuck. “You okay? God, I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine.” She touched my cast gently. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I was fine—except I was going to die if I didn’t get inside her, like, now.
“Let me do this.” Stepping back from me, she got rid of the tank top and the bra and I let myself stare at her gorgeous breasts as she shimmied out of the loose yoga pants. Then she took care of me, carefully easing my T-shirt up and off, opening my jeans and pushing them down along with my boxers. My dick jumped eagerly toward her, throbbing.
“Get on the bed.”
I lifted my eyebrows but did as she ordered, shoving her duvet aside and stretching out on my back. Her sheets were super soft and smelled like her…amazing.
Once again, she straddled me, leaning over me to kiss me, long and slow and sweet. Emotion swelled in my chest, along with my dick. She wriggled against me and murmured into my lips, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I choked out. “I’m good. I mean, I’m hurting…you know where.”
She laughed softly and kissed me again. “Hmm.” She trailed kisses over my cheek, the side of my neck, nibbling with her soft lips, making me shiver, then kissed her way down my chest.
“Keep going.” I palmed the back of her head. “You’re getting closer.”
“Hey, I’m in charge this time.” She licked and then lightly sucked one of my nipples.
“Christ.” Sensation zapped straight to my balls.
She shifted lower, and I sifted my fingers through her silky hair, closing my eyes, giving myself over to the feel of her soft hands and hot little mouth exploring down over my quivering abs. I groaned as she rubbed her face over my groin. I spread my legs and bent my knees. When she circled her fingers around my dick and kissed the tip, my hips jerked. Nudging my thighs even farther apart, she pushed my knees back and lifted my shaft out of the way so she could lick my balls. “Jesus Christ!” I gasped. “Oh yeah, baby, that’s good.”
Heat washed down through my body, under my skin, pooling at my groin.
Her hands slid up to my chest and rubbed over my nipples and more heat flooded my body as she licked all over my shaft.
“Mmm.” She made dainty sounds of enjoyment as she sucked gently on me, taking one testicle into her mouth, releasing it with a pop, then the other. Sensation sizzled over my skin, every nerve ending on fire, tingles running up my spine to the top of my head, which felt about to explode. She licked lower, nipped at my ass cheek, making me jump.
“Whoa, baby,” I groaned. “You’re really into being in charge.”
“Yes, I am.”
Taking me deep into her mouth again, her fingers played with my balls, and her fingernails scraped over my inner thighs. My body was a mass of twitching, jumping nerves, heat cascading over me. Her tongue swirled magic around me, her fingers driving me crazy, my hips lifting to her mouth. And then she took me in and sucked, and every sensation coalesced at the place her mouth touched, hot and wet and insanely beautiful.
“Jordyn,” I moaned, my hands in her hair. “God, Jordyn. I love you so much.”
Her mouth slid wetly up and down, the friction so exquisite, and pressure built inside me.
“Stop,” I begged hoarsely. “I’m gonna come any minute. I want to be inside you.”
“But I like it when you come in my mouth.” She looked up at me, her eyes huge, her lips shiny.
“Oh yeah, I do too, baby—do I ever—but right now, I want to make you come too. I want to see your face.”
She moved back up over me, slowly, knees on the mattress, hands on my chest.
“God you’re gorgeous.” I reached for her breast with my good hand, her softness filling my palm, her nipple a hard point against my skin. I loved the lush fullness, the sensitive peak. Wat
ching her center herself over me, I gently squeezed her nipple between thumb and forefinger.
Her eyes went heavy-lidded, the bliss on her beautiful face so gratifying as she lowered herself onto me. Hot. Wet. Tight. Christ.
She lowered herself even farther, her pussy clasping me until she was all the way down, and I looked to where our bodies were joined, my darker hair a contrast to her neat patch of golden curls. Her thighs bracketed my hips, her breasts flushed pink, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.
“Jordyn. Open your eyes.”
Her long eyelashes fluttered. She smiled and straightened, raising her arms to lift her hair off the back of her neck. My lungs seized at seeing her like that, a goddess above me, her breasts lifting, her stomach muscles tightening, her pussy rippling around me. My gaze moved to her face, her mouth full and soft, her eyes big and dark in the lamplight, shining with love and devotion, respect and gratitude. It humbled me, yet made me feel powerful, and those same emotions rose in me. She loved me, even though I’d been so stupid and messed things up so bad, even though I’d told her my deepest fears, my worries about not playing well even if my wrist was fixed. She trusted me enough to be vulnerable herself. She made me feel like I could do anything.
She moved on me, one blistering sensation after another building inside me. Pleasure expanded through my chest, swelling hot and soft.
I reached for her hip and then she bent forward again to find my mouth with hers and we kissed, long, slow, luscious kisses as she moved herself up and down on me in a slow rhythm, breasts rubbing against my chest in a teasing erotic caress. Her tongue rubbed against mine, licked over my bottom lip. I gave it up, gave up everything I had to her, lost in mindless sensation as we rocked together, her hands moving over my body, my chest, my shoulders, mindful of my casted arm. She stroked the sides of my neck, bit me softly there, then glided her tongue over my skin. Sparks floated through my veins. I found her ass with my hand, pulling her harder against me.
I lifted my hips into her heat, holding on to her with one hand as her body went tight. She pressed her face into the side of my neck and her pussy rippled around me, her soft cries delighting me. That hot coiling twist inside me rose up and peaked, and I poured myself into her in long, shuddering pulses.
She lay atop me for long moments, our hearts thudding in tandem, bodies pulsing. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too, Jordyn.”
Epilogue
Chase
CHICAGO
SEPTEMBER
“See? Your fans haven’t forgotten you.”
Jordyn’s smile was summer sunshine and warmth. “I guess not. And…” She touched her champagne glass to mine. “Neither have yours.”
We sipped the bubbly wine, watching each other.
Yeah, we were celebrating. We were celebrating a whole bunch of things.
Jordyn’s album had dropped, and we’d just found out it had gone straight to number one on Billboard. Critics were praising the new sound. I picked up my phone and read a review I’d just found. “ ‘Ms. Banks’s songs are full of torchy longing and lush afterglow. She sings about a woman’s needs and choices, the power of temptation and the pleasure in giving in, delivered with her agile soprano without apology or shame. Her music draws R&B, dance grooves, reggae, and rock into its pop with skill and maturity beyond her years.’ ” I lowered my phone to meet her glowing eyes. “You’re going to get nominated for a whole bunch of awards again.”
She grinned.
My favorite song? “Chasing Dreams,” which she’d told me was about…me.
And training camp had started last week. I was feeling good. The relief of passing the pre-season physical and being on the ice and feeling strong and confident again was beyond words. No problems with my wrist whatsoever. I’d worked hard at rehab, and I’d worked hard at staying in shape over the summer.
Jordyn kept me from overdoing it though, and I did the same for her. We both felt we had a lot to prove—she had to prove she could still sing and create music. I had to prove I could still be an elite hockey player. But having each other’s backs made it so much easier. Knowing I had someone behind me who’d support me and love me no matter what—even if I screwed up, even if, God forbid, I couldn’t play hockey—took so much pressure off me. It meant everything to me. And Jordyn felt the same.
It hadn’t happened overnight. I had years of baggage to work through.
Jordyn and I had gone home to Sudbury (which Jordyn dubbed “the land of rocks and trees”) in the summer to visit my parents. With her support I thought I could forgive them and let go of some of the resentment and pain I still felt over how they’d acted. And maybe I was just less thin-skinned about it, but it seemed like they didn’t criticize me as much as I’d feared. They’d accepted my injury and the surgery I’d had, and Mom had even been sympathetic about it.
Now, every time I started beating myself up for falling short in some way, Jordyn was there to reassure me. Her forgiveness of me was an example of grace that I tried to follow by forgiving myself for not being perfect.
When she started getting too involved in others’ problems, which had happened when Brick and the girl he was dating started having issues, I’d reminded her how it affected people, and if she valued their respect and their relationship she needed to pull back. Sometimes these weren’t exactly easy conversations, but in the end, we trusted each other.
She’d been in Chicago for most of the last six months, recording her album in a studio here. She’d had to go back to L.A. a few times and I’d been able to go with her; I knew that wouldn’t always be the case and there were times we’d be apart. Which was why I’d asked her if she wanted me to talk to Steve about a possible trade to Los Angeles.
“No!” She’d stared at me with big eyes and an open mouth. “No, don’t do that! I can live here in Chicago.” And she’d told me how she’d been planning to record her album in Chicago before I messed things up. How she’d been thinking about how she could live in Chicago. So then I’d asked her to move in with me—so we’d be together as much as we could.
Today she’d found my stash of pictures of her. We’d had a laugh over them.
I set down my wineglass. “I had such a crush on you,” I admitted, pushing her hair off her face with both hands, eyes fixed on hers. “For a long time before we even met. Before we even tweeted. Jesus, that day you replied to my tweet I was totally jacked.”
“Really?”
“Is a frog’s asshole watertight?”
She laughed. “Is that why you bet me a date?”
“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t plan to do that. It just happened.”
Her smile reached deep inside me.
“But I didn’t even really know you,” I added. “I knew you were beautiful and sexy and talented. But now I know you better…and I know you’re a bit of a drama queen with a love of chocolate cherry chunk ice cream and a fear of fire, and you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to your body, and you like butting into people’s lives, but it’s only because you care with that great big heart of yours.”
She rolled her eyes, but still smiled.
“Every time we were together, I couldn’t believe I was with Jordyn Banks. I felt so goddamn lucky.”
“Well, I felt lucky too. And especially when I got another chance after turning you down for a second date. That was a mistake.”
“It really was.”
Her lips twitched. “I felt bad about it, because I did want to see you again. That first date…I had so much fun, and you made me feel so relaxed and…safe.”
“Safe?” I blinked.
“Yeah. Safe to just be myself.”
“Ah.” I nodded.
“I don’t feel that way with many people. Also, you made me, um, thirsty.”
I chuckled. “Oh hell yeah, me too, song girl.
In fact, we should be celebrating in bed right now.” I pulled her into my arms and kissed her. The sparks were still there. In fact every day they got hotter, and having her love and trust and support only made me want her tight little body more. All the time. Always. Now.
I picked her up in my arms and she held on to me, smiling at me as I strode into our bedroom. I paused beside the bed with her in my arms. “When I said I felt lucky to be with you…I still do.”
Our eyes met and held. “I still do too.”
We’d both been playing hurt, and we were both comeback kids, determined to succeed, but now we were rooting for each other…even more than we were for ourselves.
Acknowledgments
I always have to thank the team that helps me get my books out there—Emily Sylvan Kim, Stacey Price, everyone at Loveswept—Sue Grimshaw, Gina Wachtel, Madeleine, Kristin, Matthew…but this time I have to add exxxxxtra thanks to Sue Grimshaw for knowing just how this book could be so much better. Thank you!
BY KELLY JAMIESON
Aces Hockey
Major Misconduct
Off Limits
Icing
Top Shelf
Back Check
Slap Shot
Playing Hurt
Big Stick (coming soon)
Bayard Hockey
Shut Out
Cross Check
Last Shot
Body Shot
Hot Shot
Long Shot
Other Books
Dancing in the Rain
PHOTO: LANCE THOMSON PHOTOGRAPHIC
USA Today bestselling author KELLY JAMIESON is the author of more than forty contemporary romance novels. She writes the kind of books she loves to read—sexy romances with heat, humor, and emotion. She likes coffee (black), wine (mostly white), and shoes (high!). She also loves watching hockey.
Playing Hurt Page 22
