Page 95 of The Pucking Date
He groans, full dramatic flop onto the couch. “Fine. But we need food. I’ve burned through my smoothie and my will to live.”
“You poor thing,” I deadpan, heading toward the dining table and flipping open my laptop.
“I’m thinking sushi,” he calls after me. “Maybe three rolls and a side of miso so I don’t waste away.”
“No,” I say, too fast. Sushi is off limits for the time being. Another reminder we need to have that conversation soon.
He pauses. “Okay. Let’s do something else then.”
I don’t look up. “How about Sweetgreen?”
“Alright, alright.” He scrolls on his phone, muttering. “Guess we’re doing kale and quinoa or whatever your power-woman place delivers. But just so we’re clear, this is a one-time deal. First time staying over privilege.”
I glance over my shoulder, shaking my head and biting back a smile. “What happens after the first night?”
He grins. “Negotiations. Coercion. Possibly extortion. But I’ll allow veggie-forward tyranny tonight because you’re here, and I’m planning to keep you.”
21
STAY
FINN
It’s early when I wake up, the kind of light that slips in slow, soft around the edges. The city’s not awake yet. Just a faint glow at the window, like the world’s holding still for us.
Jessica’s curled against me, her cheek resting on my chest, hair spilling across my skin. She’s still sleeping, lips parted slightly, breath warm and even. She’s wearing my shirt, and this time, it doesn’t feel like a dare. It feels like home.
And fuck me if this isn’t the best I’ve felt in years.
I let my palm drift slowly across her back, the curve of her spine familiar. Claimed. She shifts slightly, murmurs something I can’t make out, then settles deeper into me. I could stay like this forever.
This isn’t one of those mornings where she bolts at dawn and I have to start from scratch yet again, crack another joke, pretend I’m not wrecked. The last three days haven’t been a damn Groundhog Day loop where I lose her upon waking and spend the next twelve hours trying to win her back. We finally stopped hitting reset. For the firsttime in a year, no part of me is waiting for the rug to be pulled.
And yeah, I know the season’s about to start. I know my contract’s still up in the air. But in this moment? None of that matters. Because Jessica Novak is asleep in my bed, wearing my shirt, wrapped around me like we’re permanent. If the contract with the Defenders falls through, we’ll figure it out. Maybe that means L.A. Maybe somewhere else. But she’d come with me. And I’d go anywhere for her. It’s just logistics at this point.
Coach can glower. Adam can check me into the boards all he wants. Sooner or later, they’ll have to understand, this isn’t a fling. This is it. Christ, I’ve even started picturing what a ring would look like on her finger. Not because I’m rushing. Because when you know, it’s like this. Certain. Like there’s no other way.
I press my lips to her hair, breathe her in. Vanilla and sleep and something that’s purely Jessica. Mine.
Her phone buzzes somewhere across the room. The vibration cuts through the quiet, low and insistent. She groans softly, nuzzles into my chest, and tightens her arm around my waist. “Shit. That’s probably Joy.”
I hook a hand behind her thigh and drag her on top of me. “Ignore it,” I murmur, tone rough with sleep and want. “I’ve got plans.”
“You always have plans.” She giggles, low and breathy, her body settling over mine.
Silky hair spills down her back, spilling over her shoulder, trailing across my chest and fanning down in a messy, sunlit waterfall. The morning light cuts through the window behind her, catching in the strands, dancing across her cheekbones and that wicked little smirk that says she knows I’m all hers.
Jade eyes blazing, she leans down, brushes her mouth over mine—slow, soft, maddening. Just enough to make me lose my mind. Her hips roll, light and lazy, the hem of my shirt riding up as she moves. I let my fingers slide beneath the cotton, palms meeting warm skin and muscle and the familiar curves I could trace blind.
“Spread them sweet legs for me, darlin’,” I murmur against her lips.
“Maybe I like making you wait instead.”
My fingers tighten. “Easy now, Red.”
She arches a brow. “What are you gonna do, Carolina? Discipline me?”
I flip her fast, rolling her beneath me, her laughter catching in her throat as I settle between her thighs. My cock is hard, and neither of us is wearing underwear. She is slick, wet, ready for me, and I slip into her heat without a warning. Her mouth opens as if she was about to protest, but the sound dies in her throat, her hips grinding to meet mine.
