For the Win

by Kelly Jamieson

  Her body undulates, rising and falling on her knees to the rhythm of my strokes, then she sets a hand on my chest, pushing me to my back. I smile as she climbs on top, straddling me.

  Gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous.

  She smiles too, then bends to kiss my chest, flicking her tongue over my nipples. Electric need burns through me, my engorged cock throbbing.

  I hope she still has condoms in her nightstand. I stretch my arm out to yank open the drawer. I overdo it a bit, and it crashes to the floor. “Oops.”

  She meets my eyes, her lips curved. “Easy there.” She rolls off me and hangs off the side of the bed while she searches for a condom. This gives me an excellent view of her ass, and I palm one cheek.

  She pops back up, pink cheeked, hair tangled around her face, holding a small package. I start to take it from her, but she moves away, straddles my thighs and opens it. My dick is straining against my belly. Carefully, she lifts it, bends to kiss the tip, then rolls on the latex.

  Her hands on my cock ignite every nerve ending. I watch, enthralled, my skin prickling all over, desperate for more of her touch.

  Her eyes on my face, she shifts herself over me and lowers that sweet pussy onto my cock.

  “Aaaaaah.” I clasp her waist, her wet heat enveloping me, taking me in. “So good.”

  “Mmm.”

  I’m filling her, fighting not to lift my hips and thrust up into her. She begins to move on me, up and down. Her hands press on my chest and she slides them up over my neck. I turn my head and suck her thumb into my mouth, holding her gaze as she moves on me. As I suck, her pussy clenches tighter around me.

  Her eyes heavy lidded, she tosses her hair over one shoulder and leans forward to kiss me. My hands roam over her waist, her back, her ass, while our mouths meet in a molten, explosive kiss.

  As she shifts back, I push up to suck her nipples again, wrapping an arm around her. My cock slips out of her pussy and we both make a dismayed noise. Reaching behind her, she finds my shaft and slips it back inside her. Pleasure engulfs me again.

  I suck and nibble for long moments, absorbing her soft noises of delight. Then I fall back to the bed. With one hand on my chest, the other pressed into the mattress, she raises and lowers herself, liquid heat sliding along my cock…faster…faster. I grip her butt cheeks, squeezing, helping her move on me. “Christ,” I groan. “I can’t stand it…you feel so good.”

  “I love it too.” She rides me harder, panting. Pushing against my chest, she straightens. She sweeps her hair back with both hands, lifting her breasts, her nipples hard and crimson from my mouth. I watch her moving, and it’s fucking glorious.

  “I fucking love being under you like this, watching those pretty tits bounce.” My head falls back into the pillow, my mouth open, heat and pressure building. We stare at each other, a connection between us I’ve never felt, a hot sweetness, a bond of lust and passion, affection and admiration. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I worship her. I want to spend my life protecting her, cherishing her, being the best man I can for her.

  Then her movements change, her pussy rocking against me, grinding, the noises she’s making increasing their tempo. I grip her hips and she releases a low wail as her head drops forward and she presses through her orgasm. Her pussy squeezes me, squeezes…sensation twists inside me, fiery and torturous, but it’s also exquisite. Hot pressure builds, fast, violent, consuming, rocketing to a peak. It’s joy and rapture and relief and thankfulness. It’s bright and dark, thunder and lightning, frightening and yet safe. It’s beauty and love and everything I’ve ever wanted.

  * * *

  —

  “I’m glad you played so well last night. I was worried you’d be distracted.”

  “I definitely had a lot to think about. I knew I had to be brave.”

  She rolls her head on the pillow. “What do you have to be brave about? You mean your dad?”

  “That too. But right now, it was about hockey.”

  I tell her what Mom said to me, about being afraid I couldn’t live up to my dad, about how at first I was pissed off, but then realized maybe she was right. And about how Dad told me the hockey didn’t matter, it mattered that I was a good person. “But I didn’t feel like a very good person. I felt like a selfish coward. But you…you made me feel…I don’t know. Inspired, I guess?”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You went through something…” I stop. Swallow. “Something horrifying.” I squeeze her tighter in my arms. “I hate it that that happened to you. Fucking hate it. But you’re living your life. You came here, started a business…you’re brave. And strong. And I couldn’t help but think that I need to be brave too.”

  She burrows in closer to me, hiding her face.

  I stroke her hair tenderly. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  She shifts and leans her head back, a small crease between her eyebrows.

  I touch my fingertips to the crease, smoothing it. “Hey. It’s okay if you don’t.”

  Her bottom lip wobbles. “Do you?”

  “Yeah.” I hold her gaze steadily. “Is this too soon?”

  “It should be too soon. This all happened so fast.”

  My heart knocks, but it’s okay. I’m prepared to wait and be patient.

  “But no.” Her eyes go liquid. “It’s not too soon.”

  I close my eyes on a wave of relief and elation. Thank you, thank you, Jesus. “I love you, Arya. I think I did the first time I saw you.”

  “You were such an ass.” A tear slides from the corner of her eye and I catch that with my fingers and brush it away. “Knocking me into the water really created a good impression.”

  I choke out a laugh. “I know. I’m still an ass. I’ll probably do things that piss you off or make you wonder what the hell you’re doing with me.”

  “It’s possible.” She’s trying not to smile, I can tell. “But I’ll probably do things like that too. I think that’s all part of it. I love you too.”

  I gather her up against me and press her face to my chest. “Please tell me when I’m being an idiot. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you or scare you.”

  She nods. “I know. But we’ll both screw up. Remember?”

  I caress her hair. “Remember what, sweetheart?”

  “Unalome. The journey isn’t a straight line. We make mistakes and go sideways and sometimes backward.”

  “Right.” I press her closer still. “Now, we’ll do it together.”

  Chapter 27

  Harrison

  I walk into the house. Ash is on the couch with his laptop on his knees, the TV on to the Montreal–Ottawa game he must have recorded. He glances up at me. “Hey. Where’ve you been?”

  “At Arya’s.”

  “Ah.”

  He doesn’t even know what happened, and I don’t feel like telling the whole ugly story since things are fucking fantastic now.

  “Good game in Vancouver.”

  “Thanks.” I grin. “I had my ass kicked by a few women.”

  He arches an eyebrow. “And yet you’re smiling about it.”

  “I know, weird, right? First Mom told me I was a coward. Then Everly laid into me about Arya. And Arya gave me a sweet little hoof in the hiney too.”

  “Uh, wow.”

  I sit in an armchair and meet Ash’s eyes. “Why didn’t you ever try to go pro?”

  Ash’s eyes widen, then narrow. “You know why. I wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to write about hockey.”

  “Yeah? Is that the truth?”

  He shakes his head slowly. “Of course.”

  “Because Mom suggested that maybe the reason I’ve never tried my hardest is because I’m afraid I can never be as good as Dad.” I purse my lips. “I think she might be right
.”

  Ash is silent.

  After a moment, I look at him. Our eyes meet.

  “Shit,” Ash says. “Mom’s pretty smart.”

  I often know what Ash is thinking without him saying it. He’s thinking that maybe he was afraid too. So he didn’t even try. “Yeah,” I finally say. “She is.” I pause again. “Dad was pretty awesome about it. Even though I wasn’t sure he even understood what was going on.”

  “He has his moments.”

  “Yeah.” I exhale harshly. “It really sucks.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s so hard seeing him not able to drive anymore. Not being able to hold a conversation, sometimes. Being confused.”

  “Fuck.” Ash leans his head back. “I know. I hate it. I feel like…he’s already died.”

  “Sometimes it’s not him. It’s like…his body is aging, but his mind is getting younger…like a child.” My eyes burn and I scrub a hand across them. “What the hell are we going to do without him?”

  “We’ll do what we have to do. We don’t have a choice.” Ash’s quiet wisdom calms me.

  “Yeah. I guess that’s true. We can’t be him. But we can our best selves.”

  Chapter 28

  Arya

  “How did he propose?”

  Taylor smiles at me. “He was such a clown. He brought home a ring size chart and asked me what size ring I wear.”

  “Subtle.” I grin.

  “Right? That’s exactly what I said! ‘So subtle, JP.’ I was actually excited, but maybe a teensy bit disappointed that he didn’t even try to surprise me. And then he said, ‘Okay never mind, try this one.’ And he went down on one knee with a ring in his hand.”

  “Oh.” I lay my hand on my heart. “He already had the ring!” My romantic heart melts.

  “Yeah, he was just faking me out.” Taylor shakes her head.

  “It’s a beautiful ring.”

  “Thanks.” She extends her hand to admire it. It’s very simple, a diamond solitaire in a shiny white gold band. “I love it.”

  We’re at Taylor and JP’s engagement party, hosted by JP’s parents, Matthew and Aline. The entire Wynn family is here—minus Jackson, who I have yet to meet—and Harrison has been sweating about this for days. He’s told me about some of the things that have happened when this family gets together.

  It should be okay now, though, because they’ve worked out their differences. I think.

  What do I know? I’m not family and I’m new to their world.

  I don’t feel totally on the outside, though, since I’ve gotten to be friends with Everly and Taylor and Lacey. They’re fantastic women and I love them.

  I also love Harrison.

  I love that he doesn’t stray far from my side at the party, and even when he’s across the room talking to someone else, he searches me out, as if making sure I’m okay, and we share a smile.

  Taylor and I join in the conversation with Harrison, Théo, and JP. They’re talking about how Harrison’s mom is the family savior.

  Bob Wynn turned ownership of the team over to Chelsea. She’s apparently been working with Kate, the CFO, and with the bank, and they’ve figured out a plan to repay Matt and Mark’s trust fund. This has been in the works for a long time, which makes some of the family feel crappy that they were suspicious of Chelsea and her motives, when all along she’s been trying to fix things. She’d kept it hidden because she didn’t want people to know about Bob’s illness.

  I kind of love Chelsea too. She’s beautiful and blond and dresses in killer clothes and shoes, and I get why some might think she’s Bob’s trophy wife, but she’s smart and kind and strong. She’s raised an amazing man in Harrison, so she must be a good person.

  “People always think team owners are wealthy,” JP says. “But lots of clubs report losses every year, and even the teams that are profitable supposedly don’t make that much.”

  “Well,” Théo says. “Nobody buys a team planning to lose money.”

  We all smile.

  “True enough,” Harrison says.

  “The truth is,” Théo continues, “hockey-related revenue is defined to maximize the appearance of losses on the hockey side. In some cases, like television broadcasts, we can deduct up to a hundred percent of revenues as a direct cost. And other forms of revenue aren’t even included.”

  “And a huge chunk of income is based on TV deals,” JP says.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be telling us your tax evasion secrets,” Harrison says.

  Théo laughs “It’s not tax evasion. It’s all legit. It also helped that we had a good year this year. Increased gate revenue, merchandise, and concession sales.”

  “Yeah, thank God.” Harrison rubs his chin.

  “We also doubled our local TV rights deal to twenty-five million.”

  “That’s fantastic,” JP says.

  “All because we were winning and made it two rounds into the playoffs,” Théo adds.

  “Thanks to you, man,” Harrison says.

  I watch him talk to his nephew, who’s actually his boss. The respect between them is obvious.

  “Not just me,” Théo says. “The players are the ones who win the games.”

  “You picked the players.”

  Théo grins. “It’s a team sport. We all have our roles to play.”

  That’s a hockey player for you—unwilling to take all the credit for success. Sharing it with the team.

  “Too bad it wasn’t more than two playoff rounds.” Théo elbows his brother, JP.

  JP grins. “Sorry, man. All’s fair in love and hockey.”

  The Eagles beat the Condors in the second round and moved on. They lost in the next round, though, so the Stanley Cup isn’t back in California. Yet.

  Théo snorts. “Yeah, yeah.”

  It could have caused another family feud, I suppose, but this is a hockey family and sportsmanship is in their blood. Also, the fact that the patriarch of the family is dying may have given them all a new perspective on what matters.

  I glance over at Bob Wynn, seated in a chair, talking to his sons Mark and Matthew.

  “You didn’t have to buy a goddamn rival team to get back at me,” he bellows.

  Uh-oh. Maybe I was wrong to think the feud is over.

  But Matthew just laughs, his shoulders relaxed. “Maybe I wanted to own a team, Dad. Maybe I hoped that someday you’d include me in running the Condors.”

  Bob stares at his son.

  “Instead you stole from us and cut us out.”

  Now Bob looks really confused. He doesn’t even know what he did. And we’re not sure that he ever did. Chelsea doesn’t even know. Not repaying those loans could have been deliberate, or it could have been something he lost track of.

  And I’m pretty sure Mark and Matthew feel a lot of guilt about how they dealt with it.

  Matthew sets a hand on his dad’s shoulder and squeezes. “It’s all good, Dad.”

  Whew.

  Harrison was right. Going through some tough times has helped this family figure out who they are and what they really want. There’s been some guilt and some remorse and forgiveness.

  Everly pauses next to her half brother Matthew and briefly leans her head against his shoulder. “Thank you,” she says quietly to him. He smiles at her.

  She then moves over to join us. “Well, at least they’re not coming to blows over it anymore. Dad still has some hard feelings, but doesn’t remember his own role in the whole mess.”

  “It’s fine,” Harrison says. “Everyone understands.”

  “So, Théo,” Everly says. “Are you going to hire Arya again next year?”

  My eyes pop open wide, staring at Everly. This isn’t the time for this! My cheeks heat as I flash Théo an apologetic smile. “You don’t have to answe
r that. It’s your business.”

  Everly laughs. “I’m just bugging him.”

  “Thanks for passing on Arya’s info,” Théo says. “I heard great things about the yoga classes.”

  I turn to Everly. “You…?”

  She shrugs. “I gave Théo your card. I knew they were talking about yoga classes.” She holds up a hand. “That was all I did.”

  “Oh my God.” I close my eyes, my cheeks even hotter.

  “Don’t think you didn’t deserve that job,” Everly adds. I open my eyes and meet hers, which are warm and admiring. “You’re a great instructor. And perfect for the team because of your athletic style.”

  “I agree.” Harrison’s arm around my waist squeezes.

  I sigh. “Well. Thank you. And I’d definitely love to continue next season.”

  I’m not sure where I’m going with my yoga career. I enjoy running my own small business with my SUP classes, but it’s definitely work. I don’t love the accounting and administrative stuff that goes along with it. I’m enjoying my weekly rooftop classes, and I still love Prana and the people there. Surprisingly, I really enjoyed working with the team.

  Sometimes I feel I should have a bigger goal. But Harrison and I talked about goals and how to achieve them, and he didn’t make me feel bad that I don’t have a goal like he does. In fact, he made me feel better because he reminded me how far I’ve come since the attack and what I’ve accomplished. He reminded me about my tattoo…the journey isn’t a clear, straight path. And I’ve learned that finding joy in the journey is what life is about.

  There’s a commotion at the front door of Matthew and Aline’s home as more people arrive. Everyone is shooting questioning glances at each other as Aline hurries to the door.

  “Oh my God! Jackson!”

  “What?” Riley pops up out of her chair where she’s talking to Ash. “Jackson?”

  She darts across the spacious living room as her brother appears in the opening from the entrance hall—another Wynn, taller than all of them, broader than all of them, with the same blue eyes and dark hair. He’s wearing a huge grin.