Breakaway (Beyond the Play, #2)(86)

“If his own father isn’t going to brag about him, someone has to,” Blake adds. He nudges Cooper’s side. “One day, that little buddy of yours down on the ice will be wearing your sweater.”

Cooper’s smile isn’t his usual one—no wide grin, no bravado. Just softness. My heart melts, and things don’t get much better on that front when Ryan runs off the ice at the end of the game a couple minutes later and throws his arms around Cooper’s waist.

“Did you see the whole thing?” he asks excitedly. “Even my goal?”

“Every moment, buddy,” Cooper says. He takes Ryan’s helmet off and ruffles his sweaty hair. “Where’s your mom? Let’s talk to her about me finding a time to help you work on stick handling.”





52





COOPER





It’s pouring by the time we get back from Pine Ridge, and somehow, in the dash from my truck to the door, we manage to get soaked to the bone. I’m shivering uncontrollably. The moment we get inside my house, I push Penny against the door, kissing her so deeply I taste the sugar on her tongue. She’s chilly like me, but at least there are sparks in the way our breath washes over each other. She wraps her arms around my neck, tugging me even closer; I’ve been with her long enough to know that means she wants my full weight on her. My cock is responding. It stirred when she whispered those filthy things in my ear right before we went to Ryan’s game, and now that’s all rushing back. I oblige her, pressing her right up against the door, my leg between hers. I push her coat off her shoulders and unwind the scarf from her neck, and I’m just about to tug down her sweater for a glimpse of her tits when someone coughs.

Penny’s eyes widen. “Cooper!” she whispers, hitting my arm.

I groan, turning around. Sebastian, Rafael, and Hunter are on the couch, jostling each other as they play a video game. Victoria is sitting on the loveseat; Remmy’s stretched out on it, his head in her lap. Izzy is on the floor with Tangy, reading a book—or at least she was, until she spotted us.

“You couldn’t do that in the car?” she drawls. “Or, I don’t know, your room?”

“Why are all of you here?”

“Believe it or not, we have lives that don’t always involve you,” Sebastian says. He glances over for half a second. “You hungry? I made stew.”

“It was fucking great stew,” Hunter says. He doesn’t take his eyes off the game; he’s concentrating so hard his tongue is poking out of the corner of his mouth.

“The way he toasted the sourdough? Perfection,” Rafael chimes in.

Remmy waves. “Hey, Coop,” he says. “I’m guessing Pen’s there somewhere behind the wall of muscle, so hi, Penny.”

“Hey,” Penny says as she runs her fingers through her wet hair. “Stew sounds, um, great, Sebastian, thanks.”

“Later,” I add. “We have something to take care of first.”

“Sure,” Izzy says exaggeratedly. “Don’t be too loud.”

Penny pouts. “I really would like stew,” she says. “At least stew is hot.”

I tug her upstairs. “I have a better idea for warming you up.”

When she sees that I’m taking her to the bathroom, not my room, the lingering hesitation on her face slips away. She grins, kissing me as soon as we click the door shut.

“Can it even fit us both?”

I turn on the shower spray, then tug off my clothes. “We’ll see.”

“Always thinking of ways to get me naked,” she teases. I watch hungrily as she slips out of her clothes, baring all that smooth, freckled skin.

I raise my eyebrows. “You were the brat first.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, cocking her hip. My mouth goes dry at the sight of her; she’s in nothing but a cotton thong and socks. Her blue eyes blink at me, soft as a spring morning, as she licks her lips. A raindrop rolls down her cheek, a tantalizing preview of what she’ll look like once she’s soaked in the shower. “And you made me promises, Cooper.”

“Let’s not make a liar out of me.”

She slides the thong down her long legs along with the socks, then steps past me to push open the glass door. It’s fogged up already, warming the whole bathroom. She sighs with pleasure as the water washes over her. My cock, already growing heavy, unencumbered by anything as silly as a pair of boxers, twitches at the noise. It’s like when she made that fucking interrobang our code for sex; one glance at it and I was halfway stiff.

I join her in the swirl of steam, pulling her back against my chest and pressing a fast kiss to the place her shoulder meets her neck. She moans, tilting her head back. I splay my hand over her belly, pressing my fingertips against her slick skin. She sways slightly, not a dance but as close as it comes in a shower stall, and I move with her, relishing in the heat that chases the damp from my bones. There’s something contemplative about her right now. A deliberateness in the way she looks up at me through her lashes. My belly tightens at the sight of her parted lips, her flushed cheeks, the pale pink buds of her nipples gone stiff.

“You okay?” I murmur. Maybe she’s thinking about her therapy session. I’ve never been to therapy, but I have no doubt that it’s hard. It sounds like writing, honestly—holding a piece of yourself out to someone else willingly and hoping that they understand it. She’s my brave girl for doing both. “What’s on your mind?”