I was stalking Paxton. Even at the height of my crush on Patrick, I hadn’t stalked him like this. I’d like to think I was a concerned friend making sure we were okay. But I feared there was more to it than that.
On Thursday, I got home from classes in the early afternoon to multiple calls and texts from my father. Nothing unusual there, but the urgency in those messages alarmed me. Immediately, my mind raced to all kinds of conclusions. A person tended to do that when they lost their mother at a young age, just one more thing I had in common with both twins.
We understood each other’s pain with controlling, critical fathers and no mom to balance things out. We knew what it felt like to get a knock on the door late at night and have our lives be forever changed after that. Paxton and Patrick’s mom was hit head-on by a drunk driver, and my mom’s SUV was T-boned by someone running a red light in a stolen car. I suspected the driver was also drunk, but he ran from the scene, and they never found him. My dad had been on a road trip. I’d been alone with the nanny. Part of me blamed him for not being there for me, as unfair as my blame might be.
Shaking my head to clear those disturbing thoughts, I called my dad’s cell. I’d worked myself into a frenzy by the time he answered on the sixth ring.
“Dad, is everything okay?” I blurted out. Desperation shook my voice.
He chuckled at my tone. “Yeah, calm down, honey. Everything is good.”
I expelled all the oxygen I’d held in my lungs and collapsed in the only chair in the room. “What’s going on then?”
“Good news. I pulled some strings and got you an internship with the team.”
“What?” I stared at the phone as if it were the enemy. My dad interfered in my life on a regular basis, but he’d never gone this far. He’d been pushing Patrick and me together since the end of last season, and his efforts were embarrassing, especially considering Patrick resisted them and pretended to be oblivious to my dad’s machinations. I knew what Dad was doing even if he didn’t acknowledge it. My father missed playing the game, the glory, the cheers, the adulation. Originally, I’d been thrilled at his attempts because I’d gotten my Patrick time. This year, I wasn’t so sure how I felt.
“I know you don’t need the money. I give you plenty, but a job with a stellar college team will be good for your resume.”
“I know, but I’d have preferred to get that job on my own merits. If I’d known they had an opening for an intern, I might’ve applied.” This job had been created by the athletic department to appease the great Gene Smith; I’d bet my best pair of shoes on it. The Moo U athletic director was so far up Dad’s butt he never saw the light of day.
“The least you could do is thank me. Why are you so ungrateful, Naomi? I bust my ass to make your life comfortable, and all you can do is complain?”
Here he went with the guilt trips. While I was somewhat immune to them, this time he got under my skin.
“I didn’t ask for your interference in my life. I appreciate your efforts and know you’re coming from the right place, but, Dad, I need to stand on my own two feet and make my own decisions.”
“Considering I pay for everything, that ship has sailed, and now you’re balking at an opportunity to make some of your own money?”
“Dad, I—”
“It’s settled. You’ll meet with the coach today after practice. You’ll be on the bus tomorrow for the away games. I’ll be attending, and we can talk then.” Dad bulldozed right over me, just like he always did. No wonder I’d rebelled so completely in my teens. He’d barely noticed, though, having been wrapped up in dealing with the end of his career and a brief sojourn into sportscasting.
“But—”
“You’ll love this job. It’s right up your alley. Numbers, stats, analyzing…”
That did sound like something I’d love to do.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night. Let Patrick know I’ll take you both to dinner after the game.”
“What about Paxton?”
“Paxton?” He sounded confused, as if he’d forgotten Patrick had a twin. “Uh, yeah, sure, he can go,” he added magnanimously, as if he were giving Paxton a great gift. I wasn’t sure Pax would see it that way. My dad surrounded himself with people who adored and worshipped him. Paxton did not. Patrick, on the other hand, gobbled any tidbit of hockey knowledge Dad chose to bestow upon him.
There were other alums from Moo U who were outstanding hockey players. My dad had one of the longest careers and probably won the stats game, but he’d been lost ever since he retired a few years ago. I almost felt sorry for him. He didn’t have a life after hockey, so now he was trying to live vicariously through the young guys. I think he spent a lot of time watching his old pro team practice, too.
“Naomi, did you hear me? You need to talk with the coach today to make sure you understand your duties.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Good.” He hung up without even an I love you or goodbye. That was my dad. I knew he loved me, but he had a hard time showing it.
A week ago, I’d have been thrilled at the opportunity to spend more time in Patrick’s presence. Now, my befuddled brain bounced between the two twins. I had to get a handle on myself.
I checked my makeup, grabbed a jacket, and headed for the coach’s office, bolstered by the possibility of running into Pax, uh, Patrick. Much to my dismay, I didn’t run into him. He wasn’t in the dining hall either. I headed for the library to do some much needed studying.
The basement of the library was usually deserted, and I wasn’t in the mood for company, so I went downstairs and cracked the books. Instead of studying the business principles of sports management, I recalled the heat in Paxton’s eyes when he’d entered me for the first time. The pure heaven of it all.
“Hey, Naomi.”
I jerked my head up and stared straight into the bright brown eyes of a guy I knew from some of the frat parties. We’d dated a few times my sophomore year, but he’d been a self-absorbed jerk. I’d dumped him pretty quickly. That didn’t stop him from trying on occasion to hook up again.
“Hey, Bart.” I turned away and stared at my book, hoping he’d get the hint and leave me alone. He didn’t. He sat down next to me and scooted his chair closer. I moved away from him until my chair was wedged between his chair and the wall.
“I’m bored. Why don’t we find some other source of entertainment?”
A girl couldn’t be subtle with a guy like Bart. You had to clobber him over the head to get through to him. With his looks and money, I was sure he’d rarely heard the word no.
“Thanks but no thanks.”
“Ah, come on.” He wrapped a lock of my hair around his index finger and leaned in close. I smelled beer and the overpowering scent of his cologne.
“I’m waiting for someone,” I lied.
By his knowing smirk, he didn’t believe me. “Ditch him. I’m way more fun.”
“Actually, you’re not.” I spoke from experience. Bart was too selfish to care about anyone but himself.
He scowled at me. “I don’t like to be disrespected.” His syrupy-sweet tone turned menacing. I glanced around, but the basement appeared empty.
“I don’t like to be harassed.” I lifted my chin defiantly and stared him straight in the eyes.
He leaned in closer. Both hands held my arms in a vise-like grip. My heart pounded in my chest, and I fought down the panic rising inside me. I was all alone down here without a chance anyone would hear me. It was well known by the students this area of the basement had no security cameras since there was nothing of real value stored down here.
“Naomi?”
I was never happier to hear Paxton’s voice.
7
In the Book Stacks
Paxton
I was a glutton for punishment. Naomi kept popping up where I was, and I didn’t mind one damn bit. If her frequent appearances weren’t a coincidence, they most likely had more to do with my brother than me, but tell that to my lovesick
heart.
By Thursday, I’d had too many cold showers and late-night fantasies. Thoughts of Naomi were making me crazy to the point I was irritated with myself and itching for a fight. I’d been an ass at hockey practice that afternoon and relished slamming my brother up against the boards. Patrick was furious at me, and I didn’t blame him. It was a cheap hit. Coach Keller made me stay after practice and do skating drills for twenty minutes. Then Coach Garf, disturbed by my aura, insisted we work on sports psychology stuff for another half hour.
By the time I showered and dressed, my teammates had deserted me, most heading for the Biscuit. I’d neglected my studies all week and wasn’t in the mood to hang out with my boisterous buddies. My mood was darker than that. Besides, Patrick needed time to cool off, and so did I.
I grabbed a bite at the union building and trudged over to the library, where I’d hunker down and attempt to study, even though my concentration level had been shot to hell since last Saturday night.
I slipped downstairs to the basement, not wanting to be recognized or, even worse, mistaken for Patrick. No one liked studying in the basement. The place was poorly lit, a little spooky, and smelled funny, like it leaked or something. And if I was being honest with myself, which I wasn’t, Naomi was known to study down here. In fact, she’d showed me this location our freshman year.
I paused, listening.
I heard voices, one very familiar. In fact, so familiar that voice lived in my dreams, day and night. Only this time, it wasn’t husky with lust or sleepy from a great orgasm. Instead, that voice of an angel sounded frightened.
I rounded the corner of the book stacks to the space where several tables were and took in the situation.
“Naomi?” I said, assessing the situation. Naomi was wedged between the wall and some guy who had his hands on her and not in a good way. I was going to put my hands on him and show him just how tough hockey players were.
The asshole loosened his grip on her when he heard my voice. Naomi looked up, spotted me, and met my gaze. Relief filled those beautiful eyes of hers. Before I had a chance to react, she leapt to her feet and ran to me, throwing her arms around me.
“You’re late, honey,” she chastised.
Confused, I slid my gaze to him and back to her. Her expression implored me to go along with her.
“Sorry, got held up at practice.” I said the word practice extra loud because hockey players were gods on this campus, and I wasn’t beyond throwing my weight around when necessary. Who I was dawned on the guy. Whether he thought I was Patrick or me was a moot point.
The guy stood, all bravado gone, his hands shaking. “I–I was just leaving.”
I held Naomi to me and glared over her head at the frat boy. I’d seen him around and had a vague idea who he was. I racked my brain for his name. He needed to know I knew his name. Then it came to me.
“Bart,” I called after him before he’d managed to escape from sight. He paused and turned around.
“Yeah?” Because of the distance between us, he’d bolstered the courage to smirk at me.
“You touch her again, and you’re in deep shit. You’ll find out just how jealous of a boyfriend I am.”
The bravado drained from him. “I won’t. I promise. Nothing was going on. We’re just old friends.” Before I had a chance to respond, he scampered away and disappeared between the book stacks. I waited until I heard his feet pounding on the metal stairs.
“Are you okay?” My arms went around her, and she hugged me tight, burying her head in my chest. Her shoulders shook, and I thought she was crying until she lifted her head. She was laughing her ass off.
“The look on his face… I bet he peed his pants.”
I chuckled, distracted by how good she felt in my arms. “I’m glad I showed up.”
“I am, too.” She leaned into me and sighed a contented sigh.
“You do know I’m Paxton?” I joked, though I was half-serious.
“Of course I know. I can tell you two apart, especially when I’m sober.”
“Good to know.”
She looped her arms around my neck. “Thank you. Really. I dated that guy briefly, and he occasionally wants a repeat.”
“He’s a jerk. I’ve heard about him.”
“He is a jerk. But being a nice guy wasn’t a qualification for a date my first couple years here.”
“And now?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Now it is.”
Our gazes locked, and everything I’d done and sworn to do in the last few days flew out the window, totally forgotten. Naomi was my heart and soul, and I didn’t know how to get beyond her.
She stood on tiptoes to reward me with a thank-you kiss, but I had other ideas. All reason escaped me as I buried my fingers in her hair and deepened the kiss. Naomi pressed her sweet body harder against mine, and we did the tongue tango. I’d never made out in a library before, but there was a first for everything.
Never breaking the kiss, I backed her up until she was pinned between me and shelves full of books. After four days of not touching, our hunger for each other swept through us, overwhelming any resistance we might’ve managed to muster. Instead, we abandoned all pretense of being just friends and let our bodies take control.
She cast a spell on me as she had Saturday night, and I had no chance of resisting, not that I wanted to. She felt so good, so right, so mine. Despite her diminutive size, our bodies fit together as if we were made for each other by a higher power.
We were insatiable, controlled only by our fever for each other. Nothing mattered but this woman, and I didn’t care about consequences. I had to have her.
Had. To. Have. Her.
“It’s been too fucking long,” I panted against her cheek.
“Way too fucking long.” She slid her hand down my chest and cupped my balls, squeezing gently. My pelvis jerked in response. I shut my eyes and moaned. She broke off the kiss despite my protests.
Grabbing a handful of my T-shirt, she pulled me along the stacks to the darkest, most private corner of the basement behind an oddly angled bookshelf, almost as if it were placed there for this very reason.
She pushed me against the cold concrete wall, but I didn’t notice or care. My eyes widened as she sank to her knees.
“Oh, please, yes. Oh, fuck,” I pleaded, having absolutely no shame. I wanted those luscious lips and talented mouth on my dick.
She tore at my jeans, yanking down the zipper, opening the fly, and scratching my skin in her desperation to slide them down my legs. My hard cock sprang free, and she purred. I grasped the shelves on either side of me and held on as Naomi lowered her mouth and licked the pre-cum off my dick.
I was a mouthful, but she handled me well. Really well. I arched my back, angling my hips and pushing myself deeper. Naomi took more and more in her mouth until my entire length was inside her hot sweetness. I pumped several times, lost in my private nirvana, and forever craving what she did to my body, my mind, and my soul.
I came in a heated rush, and she took it, licking me clean afterward. I leaned against the bookshelf, panting, trying to gain my bearings, attempting to hold on to the last vestiges of a glorious orgasm as long as possible. But all good things must end, and so did this one. As I floated back to sanity, I gazed down at her, still kneeling, still holding my dick. She smirked with satisfaction, knowing she’d given me the blow job of my life in the Moo U library.
She slid up my body until she was standing.
“Naomi, I—”
Naomi shook her beautiful head and placed a finger across my lips. “No words of regret, Pax. We both knew what we were doing and what we wanted.”
“I’m glad you knew it was me this time.” The words slipped out with a trace of bitterness before I had the wherewithal to stop them, effectively pouring cold water on the moment.
“I had a fifty-fifty chance of guessing correctly,” she said, infusing some humor into a tense moment.
I barked out a laugh. “Well, I’
m glad you guessed right.”
Her smile was secretive, as if she knew something I didn’t know. She stood on tiptoes, kissed me on the mouth, and turned.
“See you tomorrow.” I gawked at her as she gathered up her things into her backpack and sashayed past me. She started up the stairs and turned. “And Pax?”
“Yeah,” I said huskily.
“You might want to zip your jeans before anyone sees you trolling the book stacks.” On that note, she clambered up the stairs, her soft laughter like the sweetest bird’s song drifting down the stairwell.
8
Confessions
Paxton
I bounded up the stairs to the team bus late Friday morning. We’d play a game that evening in Connecticut and then travel to New York for a Saturday night game.
After my last class, I’d hung out near Naomi’s dorm, hoping to see her before leaving on the road trip. We hadn’t spoken since last night, and things were so unsettled between us. I didn’t know if the blow job was another won’t-happen-again moment or if I should read more into it.
I’d been tempted to text her, but this subject required personal contact. If I had my way, a lot of personal contact. I waited around as long as possible and had to hustle to get to the bus on time. I was five minutes late instead of my usual half hour early.
Coach Keller gave me that look and made a show of checking his watch. I glanced around for an empty seat. Patrick sat in the back of the bus, playing cards with a few of the seniors. I started toward the back. Lex waved to me from the middle of the bus and pointed to the empty seat next to him. Upperclassmen usually had their own seats, but I didn’t mind sharing. I welcomed a conversation with someone who didn’t share my DNA.
Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance Page 4