Page 105 of Faking It with the Forward

“I’m sure.” She guides me between her legs, nudging me at her entrance. I push inside at the same time I smother her mouth, capturing our groans with a kiss. The tight heat of her pussy grips me, and the sensation is amplified by being skin to skin. The friction increases when her legs wrap around my body and her hips tilt upward.

“Jesus, Sunshine.” I flex back into her, driving in deep. Palming her breast, I bring my mouth to her nipple and suck. Her nails dig into my back, the pain better than anything I’ve ever felt before. That is, until the orgasm runs through her, and her whole body clenches around me. It’s enough to tip me over, her pussy milking my cock until I come with a final hard thrust.

I hover over her, forearms flat by her head, and look at her. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She twists her head and playfully bites my bicep. “You’re pretty fucking hot too.”

I kiss her again, just because I can, and take my time rolling off. She makes a motion with her hands. “Give me back my hoodie, Cain.”

“You’re the one that left it back at Wittmore.” I pick the sweatshirt up off the floor. As much as I hate covering her body, I lower it over her head. When her head emerges from the neck hole, I kiss her mouth and say, “You look good in my name and number.”

I fall back and drag her into my side. Her hand splays on my stomach, fingers toying with the fine hair on my lower belly.

Looking up at me, she asks, “What were you going to do if I turned you away when you showed up at the front door?”

“I had a plan B.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Hand me my phone.” I nod to the bedside table.

“You brought a phone, but not a condom?”

“I was trying not to be presumptuous.”

She rolls her eyes and I kiss her again. I can’t get enough of her.

She presses a hand on my chest, stopping me before I get started again. “Plan B?”

“Oh right.” I slide my thumb over the screen and pull up the app. “Plan B was for me to give you these.”

She sits up with a screech, then slams her hand over her mouth. We both sit silently, waiting for her mom or sister to appear. When neither do, she whispers, “How? When?” she sputters. “How?Where did you get these?”

“Funny thing…” I scratch the back of my neck. “Logan helped me.”

“Oh my god. You didn’t beat him up and steal his tickets, did you?” She tilts the screen in my direction, showing me the tickets I’d bought two days ago.

“No, but he did help me find them.” I run a finger down her neck. “He’s a good guy.”

“How?” she asks gazing at the screen, then adds, “Doesn’t matter. Are you coming with me?”

“I sure as fuck hope so.”

Her grin is as bright as the stars, and I know one thing, there is nothing I want more than for her to look at me like this forever.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later I’m back in the Wittmore locker room amidst the pre-game fervor along with my teammates. Axel is in charge of the music, playing curated playlists just for games. Reid is rummaging through his belongings, convinced he’s forgotten something and then finding it two seconds later. Pete’s here–still unable to play, but planning to sit on the bench for support.

Jeff suits up at the locker next to mine, yanking his hockey pants over his pads. “How pissed was Coach at you when you got back?”

“Mad enough to sentence me to bag skates before practice every day next week.” I adjust my jersey. “But not enough to strip me of my captaincy or bench me today.”

“That sucks about the suicides, but I’m fucking glad you’ll be on the ice with us today.” He bumps his fist against my shoulder. “We need you out there.”

Just thinking about the hell Coach Bryant’s going to put me though makes my stomach churn, but I remind myself of the bigger picture. Getting Twyler back was worth whatever punishment is coming my way. Zero fucking regrets.

Down the row, curiosity gets the best of Reid, who can’t stay out of everyone’s business. Or at least my business, that’s for sure. “So, what’s the verdict? You two finally going public?”

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