Page 77 of Breakaway

“The usual. Early morning runs with everyone minus Mom and Bex. Workout sessions to stay in shape. Watching hockey tape. Reading more of the romance novels you recommended, so I know how your twisted little mind works.”

Now I’m glad that he can’t see my blush. “You don’t have to, you know.”

“Oh, I do. I’m still your sex coach, Pen. I need to keep improving my technique.” I can hear the amusement in his voice, and because apparently even that’s enough to make a wave of desire wash over me, I press my legs together.

“I don’t just read them for the sex,” I protest.

“No, I know.” He pauses, and I hear a rustling noise, like he’s flipping through a paperback. “You read them because they make you happy. And that’s sweet. They make me happy too. Who doesn’t enjoy hearing about love?”

“Who knew you could be such a romantic?”

“I have to admit, it’s a learning curve.”

“You’re a fast learner.” I blush a little as I add, “I mean, you’ve been better than any book boyfriend so far.”

After the Vermont game, we spent the last two weeks of the semester wrapped up in each other. Dating. Cooper took me to dinner as soon as we got back to McKee, and afterward, he made me sit on his face and called that his dessert. I studied for my finals on his bed while he wrote his papers at his desk, switching off between playing my music and his. We spent a memorable afternoon at an outdoor ice rink, showing off for the tourists, and another at Galactic Games, where he worked hard to win me the little stuffed bunny that’s currently resting atop my pillow. We took turns sleeping over at each other’s places, and because of the mini break in the season, my dad gave the guys leeway on the early morning practices, so more often than not, I woke up better rested than in literal years, wrapped up in the warm cocoon of Cooper’s embrace.

Now it’s almost Christmas, and while I love the holiday, I do not love the fact that he’s on Long Island and I’m still in the Hudson Valley. Dad and I are planning to have our usual quiet Christmas—although now Tangerine is included in that, since I won custody of her for the break—and while it’ll be nice, I’d rather be with Cooper. I even miss Sebastian and Izzy, too, since I’ve been seeing a lot of them. The day after classes ended, Mia and I came over for a dinner that Sebastian insisted upon cooking, complete with slightly burnt brownies courtesy of Izzy, and we kicked off the Christmas season with Elf.

“I miss you,” I say, unable to keep the whine out of my voice. If we were in the same place right now, we’d be doing the horizontal tango. Preferably while trying out one of the new techniques he keeps reading about. We haven’t had vaginal sex yet; that step still feels gigantic, but he’s been supportive and not at all pushy, and we’ve had a lot of fun with anal. He stares at my ass so much, you’d think it was a freakin’ Monet.

“I miss you too,” he says. “Want to have phone sex?”

“God, I thought you’d never ask,” I say breathlessly. “What should I be wearing this time?”

“Hmm, let’s see.”

“Penny,” my dad calls. “Ready to go to dinner?”

Shoot. “Wait, sorry. I forgot I’m going out to dinner with my dad tonight.”

Cooper groans over the line, and the sound is so fucking sexy it’s torturous to say goodbye, but somehow, I manage. I change out of my sweatpants into jeans and a sweater, fresh panties included, plus these cute ankle boots Izzy convinced me to get at the mall the other day. We were supposed to be shopping for Christmas presents, but apparently Izzy’s shopping philosophy is that you should always get something for yourself too, and I couldn’t argue with that.

In the car, Dad glances at me, watching as I fiddle with the heater. It’s freezing in the car, even wearing a thick pullover sweatshirt of Cooper’s with the Rangers logo stitched on the front. I wish I brought a pair of gloves with me.

“How’s Cooper doing?” he asks.

“He’s good.” I push past the slight awkwardness that’s been hanging in the air between us since the Vermont game and add, “He’s been watching that tape like you asked him to.”

“Good, good.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “That sweatshirt his?”

“What gave it away?”

“I know my daughter, and she doesn’t root for the Rangers.”

I look down at my lap as I smile. “Fair point.”

“Your mother used to steal my clothes.” His voice sounds a little thick, the way it always does when he talks about Mom. “That Harvard sweatshirt looked better on her, anyway.”

“I remember that sweatshirt.”

“Eventually it got so frayed she only wore it when we cleaned the house on Saturday mornings. It was covered in so many bleach stains, the crimson washed out.” He clears his throat. “Cooper... he’s been good to you, bug?”

I bunch my hands up in the sleeves of the sweater. It smells like Cooper, that spicy masculine scent I love so much. “Yes.”

“Thought he would be. He’s a good kid.” He pulls into one of the town’s lots and finds a space for the car. Moorbridge is decorated for the holidays, lights hanging from the lampposts and elaborate displays in the shop windows. I bought Dad’s Christmas present, a hand-stitched leather wallet, from a shop right around the corner. “But if anything happens, you’ll tell me, right? I won’t be mad.”

I swallow; my throat feels thick suddenly. “I’ll try.”

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