Page 45 of Pucking Obsessed

MADISON

It’s been a couple days since Kirsten’s video was leaked. It’s all anyone has talked about, and somehow, despite how frustrating it must have been for Kirsten, she’s practically been doing a press tour on campus. Every time I’ve seen her, she has multiple people around her, answering any questions they have for her. Hayden says that’s just Kirsten, but I’d be livid if something like that was leaked without my consent.

As Winter and I make our way across campus, Callum’s towering frame is just a few steps behind us. He’s our bodyguard for this walk, and he’s in a bad mood which isn’t common for him. He won’t admit it, but it’s definitely because we passed Lilac Fairbanks in the main quad. She was in a frilly, short dress that, in my opinion, is made for her figure. She looked amazing, but Callum freaked out and started yelling at her about not wearing a coat when it’s this cold. He essentially pulled a Hayden/Tristan tantrum, and Winter and I had no choice but to stand by while he forced the poor girl to wear his hoodie before he sent her off to her class.

We reach my building first and I wave to Winter and then pin Callum with a stare. “Try not to harass any other girls on the rest of your walk.” He flips me the middle finger and then looksbehind him as if to check to see if Hayden is going to air drop on his head for disrespecting me. I flip him off right back with a smile and then run toward the door before he can do anything in retaliation. I hear his boisterous laugh and Winter’s giggle before I let the heavy door close behind me.

I have a hard time concentrating in class because the lecture is particularly boring and the girls in the row behind me will not shut up about Bethany disappearing. None of them seem to like her, and I suspect that’s why they’re so interested. When I asked Kirsten at the hockey game if she’d seen her, she was very dismissive, like I was being weird for asking. I don’t really care for Bethany. I think she’s mean-spirited, and I for sure would never want to be friends with her, but after what we went through together, asking if she’s okay seemed like the decent thing to do.

The moment I step out of the classroom, Hayden is there, leaning casually against the wall, his dark eyes locked on me like he’s been waiting a lifetime to see me. Before I can even register his presence, his hand closes around my wrist. He’s tugging me down the hall and into the empty stone stairwell.

Without a word, he pushes me back against the cool wall.

His mouth crashes onto mine, rough and demanding, and I can’t stop the way my body melts into him. His lips are firm, hot, and he kisses me like he’s been starving for days. My hands push weakly at his chest, because things escalate quickly between the two of us, and I don’t really want my unsolicited sex tape shown at the next hockey game.

“Hayden, stop—” I manage to gasp out between kisses, but he doesn’t let up. His fingers curl around my jaw, tilting my face up to him as his other hand braces against the wall next to my head, caging me in.

“I missed you,” he growls, his voice gravelly.

My hands stay pressed against him, but not to push him away anymore. They’re just resting there, trembling with how much I want him. My resolve is slipping fast, but I try to cling to it because he very clearly has none.

“We woke up together a few hours ago,” I remind him breathlessly. My words are a weak protest against the way his lips skim down to my neck, his teeth grazing over my pulse. My knees feel like jelly, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold myself up because all I want is for him to lift me so I can wrap them around him.

He chuckles. “I had you five times between last night and this morning, and I still need you. You’re not getting it, princess. I’m never going to get enough of you.”

“Someone could see us,” I whisper, but I lean up and kiss him this time because he’s not wrong about anything he said. I feel the exact same way.

When he finally leans back, he says, “Every time you push me away, it makes me want you that much more.” He presses his thumb to my bottom lip, dragging it down slowly. Heat floods my face, my chest, pooling low in my stomach. His lips claim mine again, slower this time but no less demanding.

“I need to know you want me as much as I want you,” he murmurs against my lips before trailing his mouth down to the sensitive spot on my neck, sucking lightly. My breath catches, and I arch into him, my fingers clutching at the fabric of his hoodie.

“I do,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I really do.”

My hand slides down his chest, hesitating for only a moment before I cup him through his jeans. He’s rock-hard, straining against the denim, and the low groan that escapes him sends a fresh wave of heat down to my core. His head falls back, and he thrusts his hips into my palm, seeking more friction.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice a deep rumble that makes my stomach flip. “I hate not being inside you, baby.”

I find myself ready to risk everything just to touch him, to feel him. My fingers fumble with the button of his jeans, but before I can do anything else, the stairwell door swings open with a loud creak.

Hayden steps back just enough to shield me from view. I glance over his shoulder and see Scott Jacobs standing there, his face twisted into a smug smirk.

“Well, well, what do we have here?—”

“Better think it over twice, Skippy,” Hayden cuts him off. “It’s a long way down that stairwell to land on your big fucking head.”

Scott’s smirk vanishes, replaced by a glare that he directs first at Hayden, then at me. But he doesn’t say another word. He brushes past us quickly, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

I let out a shaky breath as the door swings shut behind him. Hayden turns back to me, a sly grin playing at his lips. “Where were we?” he murmurs, dipping his head to press kisses along my jawline, his lips trailing down to my neck.

When Hayden’s phone buzzes, he ignores it, but the second time I push on his shoulders because whoever is calling must really need to get a hold of him. “Hayden,” I breathe, trying to keep my thoughts from scattering, but his mouth brushes the corner of mine reverently.

The phone rings again and he groans in annoyance, pulling it out of his back pocket and answering, “You better be dead for calling me this fucking many times.”

Kirsten isn’t even on speaker, but I can still hear that her voice is sharp, almost frantic. “Have you heard?” she blurts out.

Hayden frowns, his body tensing beside me. “No. What?”

“At breakfast in the dining hall, newspapers were left on the tables. You need to get here. I just called Tristan. He’s on his way.”

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