Page 55 of Sticks and Stones (Shadow Valley U)

My nails dig into his shoulders when I lean down and kiss him to silence my cry.

He kisses me back just as roughly, flexing his hips to meet me, and then we both stop abruptly. His teeth sink into my bottom lip, and the metallic taste mixes with the lust while he fills the condom that’s still inside me.

My lip pops with a loud sound when he lets go. I take my thumb and wipe off my blood from his mouth before collapsing onto his bed. I’m out of breath, exhausted, and completely sated.

Shit, did that really just happen?

The dip of the mattress is the only indication that he’s gotten up. I gently close my eyes, feeling sleep come for me. The silence of the room is comforting in a way, and although I’m still afraid to close my eyes and give in to the slumber, I can’t stop it from happening.

“Sleep,” Stone whispers from somewhere close by.

I inhale the scent of his pillow and submit to the warmth of his blankets when he drapes them over my bare skin.

“I’m here, and I’m not leaving, Sticks.”

CHAPTER20

STONE

Third periodagainst Bexley University Wolves, and I cannot seem to get my shit together. When I’m checked into the boards for the fifth fucking time in as many minutes, I lose it.

I race after their captain, Brooks. He’s got the puck and is charging down the center in an all-out sprint. He’s slowed by my teammates. Grant skates to intercept, Archer prepares himself in the crease.

He passes the puck a moment before I catch him, slamming into him from behind and taking him down in a tumble of limbs and sticks. He curses me out and shoves me aside. Sully picks me up by the back of my jersey, spinning me away so I can’t do something truly stupid.

We’relosing. Badly. And while it’s mostly my fault, the rest of my team has been coming apart at the seams. Our passes aren’t connecting. No one’s fucking shooting. The BU Wolves are skating circles around us.

And now their captain is glaring at me from across the circle.

I automatically scowl back.

The ref drops the puck, and Grant, ever the faithful center, gets the puck and flicks it my way. I take it and sprint toward the Wolves’ goalie. But I fail to see the stick carefully edged into my path on time. It hooks around my skate, and I’m suddenly falling forward.

The whistle blows.

I leap to my feet and spin, finding Theo Brooks grinning at me.

“FOSTER!” Coach screams from the bench.

I really shouldn’t punch him in his smug face, so I ignore him and skate for the bench.

Brooks is thrown in the penalty box for two minutes, and I’m benched for the remainder of the game. I pull my helmet and gloves off, then spit out my mouth guard. I run my hands through my hair and watch the time tick down.

Two minutes, then one.

We’re 1-5. No fucking chance.

Thirty seconds.

Ten.

The horn blows, and the crowd is rightly lackluster. They just watched their home team lose by a mile.

Those of us on the bench get back on the ice, lining up to shake hands with the victors. I block most of it out.

I was awake for a long damn time after the mind-bending sex with Wren last night. One minute I was scared she was going to be permanently traumatized by her past, and the next she was writhing in pleasure on my cock. And she felt better than I could’ve ever imagined.

There’s a permanent tingling sensation left over from Wren’s body pressed to mine. Her head on my shoulder. She shifted there after she fell asleep, her hand sliding across my stomach. A lump forms in my throat just thinking about it.