Page 85 of In It to Win It

I blink. “Why?”

He strokes a fingertip down my cheek and over my bottom lip. My heart skips a beat. “Because you’re a good girl and I’m not a good guy.”

“That’s not true.”

He snorts. “Yeah. It is.”

His eyes shift away, but I see a hint of vulnerability in them. Now it’s my turn to touch his face, brushing my fingertips over the stubble on his jaw. “I don’t think you’re such a bad guy, JP Wynn. I think you’re . . . complicated.”

His gaze slides back to me, glowing with a blue flame. “Thank you.” He leans in to kiss me, and it’s soft and warm and . . . lovely. Softness fills my chest and I rub my palm over his cheek, and then the kiss turns carnal and deep. Fierce.

I’m here for it. Our mouths and tongues meet and slide, hands exploring, and he moves over me to kiss his way down to my breasts. Cupping them, he admires them, then slowly pulls one nipple into his mouth. My head goes back as bliss spears through me. “These are gorgeous,” he mutters. “All of you is gorgeous, but your tits are amazing.” He plays and sucks and nibbles until I’m a writhing mess of sensation beneath him, my hips lifting with an unrelenting ache that needs to be satisfied.

And he does satisfy me.

When we’re lying in the dark, wrapped in each other’s arms, I’m drowsy and filled with a delicious languor.

I always believed in love. A big, beautiful,everythingkind of love that glows and grows and never ends. I wanted to find love like that. I’ve tried with so many men. It just hasn’t happened for me.

I have to admit my parents’ separation has shaken me. If a couple I thought was rock solid and in love for so many years ends up not making it, what is the point of even trying? Does everyone eventually get tired of each other?

Right now, though, this man—I’m so attracted to him. Not only that, I’ve gotten to like him, despite my misgivings about being with him. Yes, he can be brash and mocking. Yes, he can be quick-tempered, and yes, I’ve seen him fight. But I’ve also seen how gentle and caring he is with Byron. How easy and lighthearted he is with his friends. He has a wicked sense of humor that makes me laugh, and despite that cocky attitude he throws off, it genuinely bothers him that he’s let down people he cares about. He’s trying to be better.

He’s a hockey player. He could be traded and disappear at any moment, like Bobby, who used to live in this triplex, and who I may have had a little crush on, and Manny. That is absolutely bad odds for establishing a lasting relationship. But maybe I’ve been naïve trying to find love and a lasting relationship. Maybe I should just be looking for what I want . . . right now. And right now, I want JP.

17

JP

I’m not a forever kindof guy.

Taylor deserves a forever guy. Everly was right to warn me off her. We shouldn’t have spent the night together, laughing, sharing stories about our pasts, and yeah, fucking. But goddamn my weak impulse control . . . I can’t resist her even though I know I should.

I’m a fucking failure. My goal this year has been to make better decisions and I just failed.

And I’m going to fail again, because Taylor’s off work today. We have a practice this morning and then the rest of the day off. Tomorrow Vancouver’s in town, but after practice she’s all mine for the day.

We part ways in the elevator, where she gets off to go outside to the visitor parking. I smooch her lips. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

She smiles. “Okay.”

I continue down to the underground parking where my car is. After practice, I’ll come home and get Byron, then pick up Taylor to head to the beach for a long walk and maybe some sightseeing. Like tourists.

After having Thanksgiving off, everyone’s a little sluggish and Uncle Mark doesn’t appreciate that. Probably crusty from the family dinner last night that turned into a shit show, he’s on the ice barking out commands. “Come on, guys! You’re all fat and lazy from too much turducken!”

I exchange a glance with Dutch. Turducken? Where the hell did that come from?

“Let’s fuckin’ practice!” he yells, lifting his arms.

“He needs to get laid,” Dutch mutters.

My eyebrows fly up and my eyes swing over to Uncle Mark. Fuck, I hope he didn’t hear that, or Dutch’ll be riding the pine tomorrow night.

He doesn’t react and I breathe out with relief, pick up a puck, and skate in on net, drilling the puck into the net past Mac.

But moments later, Uncle Mark is yelling again. “Jesus Christ! Are you guys even fucking trying? Come on! We need to get better if we’re going to have a chance this year, not worse! Wake the fuck up!”

My gut tightens and I suck on my mouthguard. I look around at everyone else. It’s true they’re moving slowly today, but I think I’ve been doing okay. Or maybe I’m a little distracted, thinking about hot sex with Taylor all night. I have to focus. I can do it.

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