Page 129 of Rookie Recovery

My eyes went so wide they almost fell out of my skull. I wriggled backwards, like an upside down commando dude on an assault course, up to the head of the bed. Jamie crawled up over me, caging me with his massive arms.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” I said, as Jamie trailed hot, wet kisses along my collarbone. “It’s been so long. I’m having withdrawal.”

“You had a BJ this morning. And then a wank when you gave me a BJ.”

“Yeah, what’s your point? Also, I love that you say wank now, by the way.”

“Are you … Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”

“Do you mean, as well as sex, or in place of? Because if it’s the former, I sometimes also think about hockey and, or, food. If it’s the latter, no. The answer is no.”

“You are impossible!” He dragged his stubbled chin down my bare chest, making me squeal-laugh.

“Okay, okay.” I held up my hands as though surrendering. “I think about other things, okay?”

Jamie laid a kiss at the juncture of my jaw. “Go on, humour me.”

“I think about you. About how much I love you.”

I lowered my voice, because it felt appropriate to be quiet. Like we were in some fancy pants gallery, observing the priceless art and antiques. I had stumbled into the classic sculpture room, obviously, and was looking at an exquisite marble piece named Super Fucking Hot Doctor with Super Fucking Sexy Tattoos Looks Like an Absolute God Hovering Over Me Getting Ready to Pound Me Senseless. Or something along those lines. “I think about that all the time,” I said.

He was above me now, gazing down into my eyes.

“I think about what you look like when you’re asleep. Or when you’re eating food that I’ve made for you. I think about how much I love cooking for you. Cooking you things my mum taught me or thinking up new recipes or twisting old ones. I think about how, when we’re sitting at your breakfast bar eating our tea, I’ve never been happier.”

“Oh, Bowie,” he said, his eyes flicking over the entirety of my face, as though he was trying to memorise it.

“I think about when we went swimming in the lake and I saw your tattoos for the first time, but, like, I also saw you for the first time then. Not the super serious doctor guy with the perfectly-put-together everything. Or the guy who wore a Henley in a million degree weather. But this guy, right here. The one who pretends he hasn’t noticed all my hidden snacks. The one who still holds my hand if we need a trolley at the grocery store. The one who smiles from the side of the rink whenever I catch his eye during training. The one who comes to training every day to supervise because it’s ‘his job’ and he definitely doesn’t have anything more important to be doing in his office. That’s the guy I see and love.” I cupped my hands over either side of his face. “I think about that guy all the time.”

“I love you,” Jamie said simply, but it was all I needed. He brought his lips down onto mine and claimed my mouth like he might starve to death if he didn’t. “I love you so much.” He took his kisses lower over my chest. “I don’t have all the words to tell you how much I love you. Or at least, I don’t right now.” Lower still over my stomach. “But I can find the words later, if you want them.”

He slid his fingers under the elastic waistband of my boxers and peeled them down. I sucked in a breath as the cool air wound around me, and Jamie’s beautiful face hovered inches above my cock.

“I might not have the words right now, but I could show you.” He closed the gap and laid the gentlest kiss against the base of my cock. Ran the flat of his tongue up its length. Took the head into his mouth.

I cried out, pushed against the headboard, bucked my hips into his face.

But just as quickly as it had started, Jamie released me, and trailed his kisses back up my chest. I tried not to whimper at the loss. I could still feel his mouth on me. The places where his lips and tongue had been were now tattooed onto my skin.

“Jesus, you look so good like this,” he said. “In our bed, on your back, waiting for me.” He hovered over me again, leaning on his big arms, a half smile playing on his lips, his biceps twitched under the muscle extension.

“Let’s get these pants off you,” I said, tugging Jamie’s sweatpants and boxers down in one, making sure my fingers smoothed over the curve of his ass and the backs of his thighs as they went.

He pulled them down the rest of the way and kicked them off the bed, exposing the scar on his knee. Before last week, Jamie often wore pants or long shorts, hiding the evidence of his pro-hockey past from me. Even when we fucked, he didn’t fully undress. There were times when he forgot to cover up, or else was too preoccupied to consider it. Like at the lake the first time, or when he fucked me in the shower.

But since last week, he hadn’t tried to hide it as often. He even wore only underpants in the apartment one time, and let me explore the scar tissue with touch.

“Does it still hurt?” I’d asked him, fingers travelling idly over the smooth, silvery skin.

“My knee or the surgery scars?”

“Both.”

He’d thought about it. “The knee sometimes. When I exercise a lot or sit for a long time. The scar, not really. It tingles sometimes. I don’t know, I can’t really explain it. It doesn’t hurt, though. The biggest pain was in my head, or my heart, whatever. Maybe it’s both. But I’ve found the best medicine for that.” He’d kissed me then. His way of saying, You, you’re the best medicine.

“Naw, you’re so cheesy,” I said. “Am I your love PT?”

“How am I the cheesy one when you come up with lines like that?”

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