Page 64 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

Minus his jersey, which I’m still wearing.

I should have taken it off and given it back to him, but once we got the results for our teams, we were ushered away to sign our finalized papers with Amelia and Dakota.

“Wanna go somewhere quiet?” he leans into whisper, my hand in his.

It’s a bit funny because aside from the humming of the air filtration system, it’s pretty quiet, but the idea of being somewhere that’s just the two of us makes me feel less worried about someone walking in on us.

Or me like this.

I manage to nod my head, and it’s all Maddox needs to lead the way.

The spot isn’t far. A few steps here, a turn there, and soon enough, we’re in a small room that reminds me of an equipment closet. There’s a counter with a few overhead cabinets, which is where Maddox places me. With his hands on the sides of my waist, he lifts me up, places me gently on the countertop, and has me boxed in while his forehead presses against mine.

“Breathe with me, baby girl.”

How can I go against my beast?

I do as he wants from me, each breath matching his until we’re perfectly in sync.

My muscles relax, the tension leaving with every breath. I feel free from the bonds that tie me, my thoughts are calm, and the spinning vortex of fear dissipates.

Opening my eyes, I lean back enough to stare into Maddox’s eyes as they open and search for mine. There’s not a single spec of judgment. He simply stares in admiration before he lowers his gaze to confirm I’m still wearing his jersey.

“You’re keeping that, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” My voice is firm with conviction. “It’s mine now.”

There’s his playboy smile before he cups my face with his large hands and searches my eyes.

He wants to kiss me.

Badly.

Yet, he’s waiting for my permission. He always asks after I’ve survived a panic attack. It’s his way of respecting my boundaries but wanting to give me the affection I’m secretly yearning for after something that feels scary.

“Kiss me, O’Riley.”

Kissing is one of the things my Maddox does best.

Taking me away from my worries with the seal of his captivating lips.

This kiss is different from the others—slow, soothing, desperate to ease me out of my world of worry and into one that only revolves around us.

Maddox and me.

Kissing in this random closet full of gismos and other things I probably know nothing about, we could get caught at any time. Me wearing the captain of Strattonville’s jersey while he’s shirtless and standing between my legs, that snake around him without my knowledge.

I know the risks.

All the warning sirens are on blast, but my ears ignore them all. Just like my mind, which is spiraling about the possibilities of how we’ll get caught, yet still encouraging my lips to move against his.

My heart just wants this to keep going, and my body is just following suit as our tongues intertwine, and we’re buzzing with the need to further this intense connection. My hands roam his chiseled chest as his hands slip beneath my ass, so he can lift me off the counter and hold me against him.

It makes me feel so weightless. That no matter what’s going on in my mind, I can escape its clutches with Maddox in the equation.

When our lungs can’t take another second without oxygen, we’re breathlessly staring at one another, the sound of our panting the only noise in this closed space.

That and the wild beat of our hearts while the pounding rush of our blood is beating at our eardrums.

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