Penalty Kill

Harper

The Storm are losing. A lot. They've lost three in a row, and are currently on their way to earning a fourth.

And as I shake my head and take another long sip of my beer after they give up another lead late in the third, I think back to how good and simple life felt just over a week ago. Before they lost three in a row at home, and before Jake became disconnected, downtrodden and distant.

Folding my arms on the sticky surface of the high-top table, I remember just how good it was to be laying in bed in the early hours of the morning, reading a book with Jake sleeping very, very soundly on my chest. We were still naked from the night before, and I managed to extricate myself from his arms to make myself a small breakfast of toast and jam before going to retrieve my abandoned book from the bathroom.

He didn't hesitate to express his immense displeasure with a loud chorus of grumbles as I left the warmth of his arms, but less than 10 minutes later I was back, sitting up in bed with my back against the headboard, the first deep golden rays of sun cascading through the floor-to-ceiling windows and onto us both.

Just as I was getting resettled, plate of toast and book in hand, Jake moved from across the bed, rooting around like a sad, lost puppy, and laid his head down on my lower chest and stomach. As his arm wrapped around me, he let out a deep, long sigh, content now that he was able to touch me again.

Looking down, my hands still raised above me with my tasty toast and just-getting-good book, I couldn't help but smile and shake my head at the man sprawled out across my body. His hair was mussed from sleep, and he was wearing a faint smile on his lips that was barely visible from how his face was smooshed into me.

The glow of the sun illuminated his tattooed arm and hard curves of muscle across his back beautifully, and as I tried to figure out the best way to proceed with a huge hockey player impeding my ability to move around freely, the aching soreness from between my legs had me blushing at just how damn lucky I was in the moment.

I settled for resting my plate on the hard plane of his back, balancing it perfectly so I could hold my book in one hand while enjoying my breakfast with the other. Jake dosed on soundly through me finishing my breakfast and getting through a good few chapters of my book. My fingers worked through the strands of his hair as I read, gently scratching his scalp and reveling in the feeling of the silky strands against my hand after each stroke.

It was as Huey let out a huge yawn and stretch from the end of the bed that Jake finally stirred, and I had to act quickly to make sure my plate full of crumbs stayed put. Jake let out deep, powerful stretches of his own four limbs, groaning and yawning in the process. With his eyes still closed, I watched with a smile as his brows furrowed.

"Are you using me as a table?" It's mumbled mostly into my bare skin, and I gave him some credit for making any of his seven words intelligible at all.

Continuing on with running my fingers through his hair, I huffed a laugh. "I was hungry, and you were cuddly, so one thing inevitably led to another. Be careful how you move, or you'll be covered in crumbs for Huey to enjoy."

He let out a deep sigh and grumbled something under his breath, his beard tickling the bare skin of my stomach just enough that the muscles there tense, and I had to do my damnedest to stifle an actual giggle. The buzz of my phone from the nightstand pulled me away from my little world inside my Jake bubble, and I let out a sigh as I closed my book and gave up on reading for the foreseeable future—at least while in his bed.

Trading my book and plate for my phone, I lit up the screen to find a deluge of texts from Felicia. 10 of them, to be exact. Returning my free hand to run through Jake's hair, I muttered "What in Jesus Christ is going on," under my breath as I pressed and pulled up my never-ending text thread with my bestie.