Faking It with the Forward: Wittmore U Hockey

This is a bad idea.

I cut my eyes over to Reese and his bare chest and, well… is it possible to get lightheaded from being in the presence of someone so hot?

I can’t even blame him for taunting me like this. He didn’t know I was coming so it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose. Although I knew there wouldn’t be a party at the Manor tonight because I got a text from Reid asking if I wanted to meet them at the Badger Den. He also tipped me off that Reese would be home. He’d specifically told me he was resting and not going out, thinking that may get me to show up.

The house seemed quiet when I stepped on the porch, but the odds of a few puck bunnies keeping Reese company were definitely decent. I’d made it clear to him earlier in the day that we needed to stop seeing one another. If he wanted to hook up with one—or a dozen—girls, that would be fair.

The first thing I found was a pizza guy walking up the driveway. I tipped him and took the pizza, promising to get it to the person that ordered it.

Then the front door opened to a shirtless Reese Cain, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that seemed to be holding on to his hips by sheer will.

When I agreed to stay to eat a slice of pizza and watch one episode of “I Didn’t Mean to Join a Cult,” I meant it. That was two episodes ago and the pizza is long gone. Ninety percent eaten by Reese, but still, I had two slices.

I’d panicked when Coach Green called me into his office this morning. I was embarrassed and terrified I was about to lose everything I’d worked so hard for the past few years. So when Reese cornered me in the storage closet, I was willing to do whatever it took to save my position. Including telling him that we were done.

It’s not like he needs me anymore. As far as I know Shanna has left him alone, and his little ploy at the animal shelter worked. Before we left that day, Logan got my number and we’ve been texting all week, sharing our favorite songs from The New Kings, and getting to know one another.

But after seeing the hurt expression in his eye as I told him it was over, and then tending to his injury during the game, I had a long bus ride home to think about everything. First of all, fuck Coach Green. Would he tell a male intern he couldn’t become friendly with members of the team? I don’t think so. Reese and I are friends. We work together. Who gives a fuck if we hang out and watch documentaries and eat pizza? How is that different from any other friendship?

The friend in question shifts next to me, adjusting the melting ice pack against his side. The bruise is a mess, but I agree that I don’t think it’s anything serious. The movement draws my eyes to the hard-packed muscle of his abdomen, and the fine line of dark hair that vanishes under his waistband.

Get a grip, I tell myself. Reese is abnormally attractive. It’s normal to get a sweaty, fluttery feeling in your lower belly when faced with a body like his. I’m reacting like any other female would.

I refocus on the screen, where this small man in wire-framed glasses talks endlessly to his followers.

“This guy is a douche,” Reese says, fingers absently scratching his lower belly. “Nothing he says makes sense. It’s like gobbledygook.”

I laugh at the word and the irritated expression on his face. “It must make sense to those people; they can’t get enough of it.” The camera passes over one of his followers. “That girl said she gave him ten thousand dollars and had to live in her car because she couldn’t afford her rent.”

He presses pause. “Did you ever see the people that lived over in that community just off campus? Serendipity or something?”

“Oh, yeah.” I sit up. “Serendee. Every time I walked past their office or whatever, they tried to get me to come in for a free class.”

“Definite cult vibes. All the girls wore those weird, old-fashioned dresses and had the same long hair.” He lifts his chin. “You know, Axel used to buy his weed from one guy and he’d show up at parties. He was scary as fuck.”

If Reese was intimidated, they must have left an impression. “I heard they got shut down. Tax evasion or something.”

“I heard the same thing.” His lips twitch. “Guess we’ll have to wait for the documentary to find out what really happened.”

“You know,” I say, leaning back on the couch, “Nadia took a couple of their classes. She kind of bought into it until they pushed a whole celibacy thing.”

“Seriously?” he asks, looking away from the TV and over at me. “How are things going with her?”

“Okay, I guess. The other day we had a civil conversation about the grocery list.”

“I guess that’s a start.”

“I just want her to acknowledge what she did was a dick move, you know?” My anger has dissipated, and now I’m just more sad than anything else. He nods and I continue, “She’s sleeping at the house a little more—at least when she’s not hooking up with Brent Reynolds.”

He snorts. “He’ll get bored soon. Trust me. We go to the football parties sometimes and I’ve never seen him with the same girl more than once.”

“I know!” I cry, hating how frustrated I feel. “I’ve told her a dozen times that if a guy doesn’t want to be seen with you during the day, he’s only looking for a booty call.”

Reese’s lip quirks. “What do you know about booty calls?”

I roll my eyes. “I know that when a guy calls you to come over after midnight it’s just for sex.” He grins and curiosity gets the best of me. “Have you ever done that?”

“Sure, a few times in the last year, mostly when we got home from a game too late to go out.” He shrugs. “But everyone involved knows the deal going into it, which makes it cool.” He gives me a pointed look. “Even Nadia. She knows what she’s getting into with a guy like Reynolds.”

“I know,” I grumble. “She, and all the other girls that think they have a chance with you, choose ignorance.”

He shifts, and the couch cushion sinks under his weight, drawing our knees toward each other. “What about you, Sunshine? Any desperate late-night calls from guys asking you for a hookup?”

My jaw drops. “God, no.”

“Not even the ex? What’s his name? Eric?”

“Ethan. And no.” I lean my shoulder into the couch cushion. “But just to put it out there,” warmth spreads over every inch of my body, “I’m not a virgin.”

“I didn’t assume you were,” he says a little too quickly.

I laugh. “You totally thought I was.”

“Okay,” he admits, a slow grin appearing, “I definitely thought you were.”

“I’m just… selective. After Ethan, I decided I needed to do a better job about the people I choose to be in my life.” Our eyes meet. “That includes boyfriends. Real or fake.”

There’s a beat of silence that stretches between us, until he reaches out, brushing his fingers over the curve of my cheek, driving my pulse to thrum erratically. “I know shit is complicated with your internship, but I don’t want to only see you in a professional capacity. I’m kind of getting used to having you around.”

“I’m getting kind of used to you too,” I confess. “You’re not as terrible as I thought you were.”

He laughs, but there’s not a lot of humor in it. His gray eyes darken. “I also don’t want to be your fake anything anymore either.”

Wait. What? “What does that mean?” I ask. “You want this to be real?”

“It already is.” He drops the ice pack on the coffee table and scoots closer, jaw tensing at the pain in his side. He’s determined to get to me despite that and closes any remaining distance. His fingers tilt my chin, and he lets out a ragged breath. “Tell me you want the same thing.”

A million red flags wave, especially the one being held by Coach Green, but I ignore each and every one. “I do.”

He presses a slow, wet kiss against my mouth. He doesn’t have to deepen it–I’m the one that does that, removing any room for doubt. He escalates, stroking my jaw with his fingers before parting my lips and sliding his tongue inside. I marvel at how each kiss with Reese is better than the last.

He’s so good at this.

“Fuck, Sunshine, your mouth tastes so good,” he says between kisses. “I’ve been thinking about it since the night you slept in my bed.”

“I’ve been thinking about it too.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and just let go, allowing myself to get lost in him; in the skilled way his tongue strokes against mine, in the way his body is honed into mine, how he touches me with greedy hands.

And damn, the tent in his pants is obscene.

His hands push under my sweater, lifting it to expose my breasts. A thick hum builds in the back of his throat and his mouth drops down, kissing between them. “This fucking bra,” he says. “Not that I’m not into your sporty look, but hell, I almost stabbed the eyes out of that kid at the shelter when he was checking you out.”

I laugh, mostly from embarrassment. “It wasn’t his fault I looked like a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Winston.”

“I had no choice but to make it perfectly fucking clear who you belonged to. That kid was dangerously close to getting his ass kicked.” His mouth closes around my nipple, and even through the lace, an unexpected jolt of want surges to my core. The wet heat of his tongue lathes over my nipple and any sense of reason slips from my grasp. Reese’s mouth and hands working together? A lethal combination. I haven’t had anyone make me feel like this in a long time—maybe ever.

“You make me so fucking hard,” he growls into my neck. His words are dirty and desperate, sending pinpricks across every inch of my skin. My clit aches—the want for him growing with every kiss, every touch. “Jesus Christ, Sunshine.”

In a sudden move, Reese lifts me by the ass and drops me in his lap. His erection stabs between my legs, and I grind down.

“Just keep doing that,” he begs, tongue licking against mine, “your pussy feels so good.”

No man has ever talked to me like this—or made me feel like this. I flatten my hands on his ridiculous chest, feeling the hard muscles tense under my fingertips. Rubbing against him, my clit throbs every time his cock hits my core, sending another jolt of desire. Sweeping my hair back, he cups the back of my head, and takes me in another blistering kiss. Between my legs, I feel the build-up, the tickle deep in the pit of my belly and my breath comes faster. I could come like this, no, I’m going to come like this, except Reese grips my hips with his big hands and forces me to still.

“I want you so fucking bad right now,” he shudders a frustrated exhale, “but my side is killing me.”

“Oh my god,” I jump off his lap, which is a challenge with the way he’s holding onto me. What the hell was I thinking? I came over here to help him, not dry hump him on the couch. “I’m so sorry. Let me take a look—”

“Hey,” he grabs my hand and yanks me down to his uninjured side. “No harm done, but this isn’t how I want to explore your body. Not feeling like I’ve got a thousand knives stabbing into my ribs.”

“You should’ve said something.”

“It’s not really my style to tell the girl I’ve been chasing for weeks to get off my dick.” His arm wraps around my waist and he gives me a slow kiss next to my ear. Reese continues to touch me, like even though we can’t do what we want, he still can’t get enough of me. Blood continues to pulse in my heart and core. And maybe my ears because I’m not sure I hear him right when he asks, “Were you close?”

Heat blooms in my cheeks. “I’m fine.”

His eyebrow lifts, and his hand pushes under the hem of my shirt and lies flat against my belly. Whatever fire has been left smoldering is reignited and without shame, my hips rise at his touch. His fingers tickle as they inch down, thumbing the button of my jeans free.

“Reese,” I say, placing my hand over his. “We can wait until you feel better.”

“You take care of me all the time,” he says, easing off the couch. “Let me do the same for you.”