Leaning on one elbow beside her, I studied her face. “Still mad?”
Her skin was dewy, her expression dazed, and her hair a tangled mess. She always looked so fucking hot after an orgasm.
She laughed. “No, but I feel a little weird about how noisy I was.”
“Don’t. That was so hot that I’ll think back on it daily.”
Reaching up, I unfastened the belt and freed her wrists. I stroked the delicate skin, carefully inspecting for any signs of abrasion or bruising and finding none.
“But what about you?” She brushed her fingers down my body and beneath my waistband, then wrapped her hand around me. Pleasure shot through me in response to her touch.
“I want to bend you over this bed and make you come again.”
Bailey gave me a wicked smile and pushed me onto my back. Her breasts brushed my skin while she planted a trail of kisses down my chest and abs and worked herself lower as I helped her tug off my black boxer briefs.
“But I’m liking the idea of a detour along the way, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
She gripped me with one hand and took me into her mouth, her tongue sliding over the tip in a way that sent an agonizing bolt of euphoria rocketing through me.
“Fuck.” I sucked in a sharp breath, threading my hand in her long hair. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
She hummed a low laugh, her mouth vibrating against me. After another minute or two of watching her, I was dangerously close to losing it.
“Baby.” I squeezed her shoulder. “You’re going to have to stop if you want me to make good on the rest.”
Bailey looked up with a sexy little smirk. “Okay.”
She crawled up to the head of the bed beside me, and I yanked down her underwear with a renewed sense of urgency. I came to hover over her again, our mouths crashing together. My plan had been to fuck her from behind, but suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to see her face when I made her come again.
Emotion overtook me, and I slid a hand up the side of her throat, pulling back from our kiss. “Look at me.”
Bailey opened her eyes and blinked up at me. Her gaze stayed locked on mine, and she drew in a breath as I pushed inside her. I thrust once, twice, and she let out a throaty moan; the sound was feminine and vulnerable, and somehow, it almost undid me.
I stilled above her, watching her, countless thoughts swirling in my mind.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
Nothing was wrong. Everything was right. Everything.
“I just love you.” I dipped my head and bit her neck gently. “And I love fucking you.”
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 47
OceanofPDF.com
ENDGAME
Chase
After six a.m. dryland, my plan was to crawl back into bed with Bailey and catch a few more hours of sleep. We had a nice little routine going, and it usually involved waking up for a second time in the best possible way. But there was no hope of going back to sleep today. Despite the grueling workout and innumerable burpees I’d been subjected to, I was buzzing.
When I got home, I briefly debated waking her to fill her in, but she’d been working overtime on classes, the paper, and her scholarship application, so in the end, I decided to let her sleep.
This led to a spur-of-the-moment decision to make breakfast. Only problem was, between being amped up and ravenously hungry from training, I got carried away and greatly overestimated the quantity of food required—even with my enormous appetite. I could count on Dallas to eat something when he got up, though. And Shiv was probably still here too, so one more mouth to feed would help make a dent in this massive spread.
I took the bacon out of the oven and set it on a potholder to protect the counter. As I turned around, Bailey came down the stairs, still in pale blue pajamas with her wavy golden hair rumpled from sleep. I loved seeing her first thing in the morning. She was a lot more pleasant than I was upon waking, not to mention far cuter.
Bailey yawned, groggily surveying the kitchen. “You made breakfast?” Her gaze landed on the waffle iron, her eyes widening. “Oh my god. I love waffles.”
“Then you’re in luck because I make the best waffles around. I’m a man of many talents. Not just on the ice—or in the bedroom.”
Her mouth tugged into a wry grin. “I’m starting to see that.” She padded over to stand beside me and peeked around me to see the waffles in progress. I wrapped my hands around her waist, ducking in for a quick mint toothpaste-flavored kiss.
“Plus,” I said, “I was too wired to go back to sleep.”
“Rough session?” She took a few steps and hopped up onto a clear span of countertop beside me. Sliding an elastic band off her wrist, she watched me, waiting for a response, and gathered up her hair and tied it up in a messy bun.
“Not overly. But I talked to the AGM for Los Angeles on the way home, and then I was pretty pumped, so…here we are.” I gestured to the food lining the counters. Waffles, thick-cut bacon, whipped cream, strawberries, and blueberries. And a bottle of real maple syrup, because my dad was Canadian and taught me how to do things right.
“Oh.” Her voice climbed in pitch, but it was strained. “So the call went well?”
She was feigning excitement for my benefit, that was obvious, but her tone held a hint of unease the minute the topic came up, same as the day we talked about it when I met her for lunch at Callingwood.
“It did.”
The waffle iron beeped, and I turned so I could remove the last waffle and set it on a plate. Once I switched off the iron and set down the white dish towel, I took a few steps to close the distance between us. I stood in front of where Bailey was perched on the counter and rested my hands on her thighs.
She looked at me, her expression unnaturally neutral. But she wasn’t good at concealing her feelings. Her eyelids fluttered as I skimmed my fingers along her jawline until I was cupping her face.
“Are you worried about what will happen to us if I leave, James?”
“Kinda.” Her eyes flashed with uncertainty. “Aren’t you?”
“I guess I figured we would make it work.”
Maybe it was stupid of me to assume, but it hadn’t occurred to me that there might be an alternative. I didn’t see her presence in my life as optional. Hopefully, she felt the same way.
Bailey’s forehead crinkled and her voice was quiet, hesitant. “How?”
Good question. I hadn’t thought through the specifics yet. I’d been too focused on all the things that would come before that. But it didn’t seem that hard—we could visit each other when our schedules allowed, and we could talk all the time. Maybe that line of thinking was naïve, though, given that the vast majority of guys I knew who’d attempted long-distance said differently. I’d heard horror stories about everything from constant fights to cheating. One of my former teammates found out by seeing a picture of his girlfriend kissing another guy on Instagram. But we were different; neither of us would even consider doing something like that. That was my theory and I was sticking to it, anyway.
“Racking up lots of reward miles flying back and forth? FaceTime? Sheer stubbornness? You know I’ve got lots of the last one; it must count for something.”