Jocking Jameson: Face-Off Legacy #4 Read online

  “How’s hockey going?” I ask him.

  He takes one more gulp of his beer and then glances over at me. “Okay, I guess. Tuck and Trent got suspended for two games.” A beat passes between us before he adds, “But no one can know.”

  I touch his hand and smile. “You can trust me.”

  A smirk turns up the right corner of his mouth. “I know.”

  “How so?” I challenge.

  “Because I’ve told you things when I was drunk, and none of it ever got back to anyone.” He slides across the bench until our thighs are touching. “You’re easy to talk to, Shan.”

  I wink. “Right back at ya.”

  He holds my gaze, staring at my mouth again. The air hums between us, a palpable energy I can feel on my skin. My stomach churns from the anticipation of what I hope will be our first kiss. Jamie places his hand on his thigh, and I get a little jealous that it’s not on mine.

  “Are you going to kiss me, or what?” I mutter before I can stop myself from confessing my desire.

  Jamie chuckles. “Is that what you want?”

  I nod. “You’ve never kissed me. Never even tried.”

  “Because I don’t want to mess with a good thing. You’re the only woman I can talk to other than my mom or sister.” He slides his arm across the back of my neck, causing the tiny hairs to stand at attention. “Are you sure you want to ruin this?”

  “You’re a smart guy, Jamie. The smartest.” I cover his hand that’s rested on his thigh, the heat from his skin warming mine. “But it’s time to turn your brain off and stop thinking.”

  Without another word, Jamie dips his head to my level. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, the sensation is so overpowering that my skin burns from his touch. His big, calloused hand travels up my bare arm until he’s cupping the side of my face, our tongues tangling together as he deepens the kiss.

  My entire body comes alive with each flick of his tongue, the heat from his kisses stirring a fire inside me. As his hand wanders from my face, back down my arm and to my hip, I want him to keep touching me. I need him to touch me. We’ve waited too long for this kiss. Three years of pent-up sexual tension have manifested into intense greed.

  I climb onto his lap without breaking the kiss, and now my hands are all over his perfectly sculpted body. His stomach is rock hard, and even over the front of his shirt I can feel the well-defined ridges of his abs. He grunts when I rock my hips, my panties now soaked as I rub against his erection. I’m so turned on I feel like a cat in heat, ready to pounce.

  Too many sexless months and years of waiting for Jamie to make his move have turned me into a raving lunatic. It doesn’t help that he’s an incredible kisser. Maybe the best I’ve kissed so far.

  Jamie runs his hand over the front of my dress, feeling my painfully stiff nipples over the thin black fabric. I moan against his lips, and he growls in response. His fingers are in my hair, one hand still cupping my breast. As I press my palms down on his shoulders and rock my hips, he slides down the top of my dress just enough for his hand to fit inside. Lucky for him, a bra didn’t go with this dress. He pinches my nipple, ripping another moan from my lips.

  My dress rides up my thighs, now bunched around my hips. Jamie peels his lips from mine for a second, now noticing how much skin I’m baring to him. His eyes rake over my bare thighs before he looks at me.

  “Why did I wait so long?” His voice is a whisper, his lips swollen and wet from our kiss.

  “Because you overthink everything,” I say, bending forward to nibble on his ear.

  He hisses, his hands moving to my ass. “My God, Shan. You’re killing me.”

  “And you me,” I whisper. “But there’s no way I’m having sex with you out here.”

  He chuckles. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  “Sure feels like you want to,” I say, rubbing my hand over the front of his jeans.

  “Oh, I want to. Just not like this. I would never do that to you.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb and then slides a strand of hair behind my ear. “We should hang out sometime. Outside of this house.”

  “You could meet me for coffee tomorrow…” I peek at the watch on my wrist to confirm the time. “Well, I guess it technically is tomorrow already. I go to Broad Street Beans for breakfast on Sundays if you want to come.”

  He stares at me far longer than I had expected, thinking over my proposal. “Like a date?”

  “No, not really. Just two friends who like to kiss grabbing coffee together. Nothing wrong with that.”

  I try to play it cool. Guys hate when girls are too pushy or overly assertive, and I don’t want to freak him out.

  “Yeah, I can do that.” He smiles. “What time?”

  “I usually head over around ten so I can sleep in. I can stop by your house on my way… if you want.”

  “Count me in,” he says before he kisses me again.

  Chapter Three

  Jamie

  Standing next to Preston, I stare in horror at the computer screen. Trent is sitting in front of the desk in the room he shares with Tucker, his hand covering the mouse, scrolling down the webpage. Tucker’s face scrunches in anger as he reads Dethroned—a new gossip blog targeting our team—over Trent’s shoulder. Tuck is the topic of this week’s post.

  A girl who calls herself The Queen has pictures of each of us with random girls on her website. Tucker is half naked in most of them and never without a beer in hand. Preston looks trashed. Drake has his hand down his pants in one, most likely whipping out his dick. Sick fucker does that all the time, and he’s proud of it. Trent has his face shoved between some girl’s tits in one picture.

  None of us look good right now. Though, of us all, I look the best. At least, I’m fully clothed and not completely shitfaced. I have no idea what to say as I re-read the blog post. None of us do.

  Dethroned

  October Edition

  I wonder what the NCAA would say about hot shot hockey stud, Tucker Kane, pounding beers and eating mystery brownies at the Delta Sig house on Saturday. Are those pot brownies, Tucker? Only a drug test will tell…

  You, Tucker Kane, have been dethroned.

  XO,

  The Queen

  Tucker got super trashed last night and ate a handful of pot brownies. He was so high and drunk Drake and Trent had to carry him home over their shoulders and put him to bed. It was kind of embarrassing. Lately, Tuck has been on a major bender, and now he’s given The Queen new material. From what I can tell, our hockey team is the subject of this girl’s blog, and she clearly has it out for us. Why? That’s the question of the hour.

  One of us must have pissed off this girl. Why else would anyone want to attack us? Our parents are rich, with plenty of money to get this website shut down in a second. But getting our parents involved is the last thing any of us want to do. Preston is the only one who runs to his parents when shit gets rough.

  Trent pushes his chair out from the desk and threads his fingers together behind his head, staring at Tucker. “Dude, you’re fucked if you don’t find out who’s writing this gossip column.”

  Uncrossing his arms, Tucker lets out a deep breath. “Who would do this? Is there a way to find out who’s writing this shit?”

  Preston squeezes Tucker’s shoulder, shaking his head at the computer screen. “We can find out who owns the domain. But think of this as your wake-up call, Tuck. All of your screwing around is catching up with you. Time to get your shit together. Stop drinking. Hire a tutor. Spend less time at the Delta Sig house. We need you on your A-game this season if we’re going to win another championship.”

  “Yeah, I got it, Prez. For the hundredth time, I got it.” Shaking Preston off, Tucker steps away from him, inching toward the door. “I’ll figure it out. Okay?”

  Preston nods and then shoves his hands into the pockets of his track pants.

  The guys in this room are my family. Our parents are best friends, so we never spent a birthday or a holiday apart. I think o
f them as brothers more than friends. There’s a common link between us that no one can touch. I would do anything for them, and the feeling is mutual. We’ve always gone to the same schools and played hockey together. Now we play Division I hockey for the Strickland Senators and live in a house on campus with some of our teammates.

  I’m closest to Preston, mostly because my dad has been his mom’s best friend since childhood. They grew up in Chicago together, lived in the same foster home, and moved to Philadelphia together where they both attended Villanova University. Our parents are complete opposites in every way. But I know they both will agree we’re all fucked if we don’t figure out who’s writing this blog.

  We look at each other, unsure of what to do, concern written on all of our faces. I can track down the owner of the website as long as this queen has left me a trail to uncover. Whoever she is, she’s going down.

  Tucker tugs at the ends of his bleach blond hair in frustration and leans back against the chest of drawers behind him. “We need to stop whoever’s doing this.”

  “I’ll call my dad,” Preston offers. “Maybe he can hire someone.”

  Typical Preston move.

  “Nah.” Tucker waves him off. “We’re not involving our parents. Our team is being targeted for a reason. You could be next. Any of us could be next. And who knows what this bitch is gonna say next. We need to take her down before it ruins our careers.”

  “She’s got to be a student at Strick U,” Trent says.

  “How do you expect us to track her down?” Drake asks.

  Tucker points at me. “Jamie can find out.” His pale blue eyes find mine. “Right? Tell me you can hack into something and shut this website down.”

  I love how they always assume I can do anything when it comes to computers. For the most part, they’re right. But I have a bad feeling about The Queen.

  Laughing off his comment, I shrug. “I’m good but not that good.”

  “Let Jamie sit there,” Tucker tells Trent, who vacates his seat in front of the computer for me.

  I roll the chair into the desk and do a quick domain search. Of course, it’s private. I’d already expected that. No real shock there.

  “The domain is private,” I say.

  Tucker grunts, rolling his eyes. “So, we can’t find out who owns it?”

  I shake my head, spinning around in the chair to face my friends. “No, but there might be another way. I can try tracking their IP address. But I’ll need more time.”

  “Until then…” Preston’s tone commands authority, “… all of you need to stay out of trouble. Don’t do anything stupid.” He looks at Tucker. “Stay the hell away from the Delta Sig guys.”

  Tucker pouts. “I’m not avoiding my friends because of one article.”

  He practically lives at the Delta Sigma Phi house. Keeping Tuck away from those guys will be a challenge, even for Preston, who’s our team captain. He has a way with our team which makes him the perfect leader.

  “Whatever.” Preston frowns. “But no more parties or pot brownies.”

  Tucker rolls his eyes at Preston. “You sound like my dad right now.”

  Eyes narrowed, Preston opens his mouth to speak. Shockingly, he doesn’t yell at Tucker. They go at it all the time, it’s like listening to a husband and wife bicker. All of us are sick of hearing them curse each other out over Tucker acting like an irresponsible asshole. His lack of caring has hurt our team this year. And with hockey season just starting, we’re already down Tucker and Trent for the first few games.

  The doorbell rings which comes as a welcome relief.

  I push myself up from the chair and head toward the door. “That’s probably Shannon.”

  No one tries to stop me as I leave the room. Before I hit the landing at the top of the stairs, Preston is behind me. “Hey, wait up, J.” I turn around to look at him, and he continues, “Can you do something about this girl?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I think so. Just because she was smart enough to pay extra money for private domain registration doesn’t mean she can hide her IP from me. Not unless she knows what she’s doing.”

  “If anyone can find her, it’s you.”

  Shrugging, I say, “I’ll do my best. Just don’t get your dad involved, okay? Give me some time to look into the website before you do something stupid.”

  He snorts. “Telling my dad isn’t stupid.”

  “You don’t have to run to him every time you have a problem.”

  “I don’t,” he growls. “We’re close, you know that. I tell my dad everything.”

  “A little too much.”

  He snickers at my comment.

  We descend the stairs, and I can hear Shannon’s sweet voice filling the air. Killian Kade—a right winger who lives in the house with us—is talking to Shannon about school. Apparently, they share a class. She knows everyone on campus. Most of the sorority girls seem to be friends with everyone, especially those in our inner circles. The Greeks and the jocks tend to stick together at Strickland University. We’re like one big clique.

  Until last night, I had never thought about kissing Shannon. She’s beautiful and smart and sweet. I can always talk to her without judgment. She never shares what I tell her, and I like talking to her. But right now, I have no interest in anything serious. After everything that happened with Cece over the summer, I’m not ready for another relationship.

  “Hey,” Shannon says, her face glowing when she sees me. “You ready?”

  Preston gives me a confused look. “Where are you going?”

  Sometimes, he can act too much like a parent.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, Dad,” I say. “But we’re eating breakfast at Broad Street Beans.”

  His eyebrow rises slightly, his gaze shifting between Shannon and me, and then he smiles. “Oh, okay… have fun.”

  I know what he’s thinking without him saying it. Preston has been hoping I would meet someone else to get Cece out of my head. What he doesn’t realize is that I will never shake her. She’s the one woman who gets me, even if she’s a miserable bitch. No one has ever come close to reaching Cece’s level in my mind. But maybe Shannon can change that.

  “Bring me back one of those scone things,” Killian says, and Shannon laughs.

  She taps him on the arm and snorts. “Scone things.”

  Killian shrugs. “You know what I mean. The one with the chocolate in it.”

  “I make those all the time at the bakery,” Shannon says. “They’re called chocolate chip scones.”

  “Then, what are you waiting for?” Killian holds out his hand, motioning for Shannon to get in the kitchen.

  She covers her mouth and chuckles, blush creeping up to her pale cheeks. “Maybe another time.”

  “Stop hitting on my girl,” I say to Killian.

  Everyone’s head snaps in my direction, and now I realize my mistake. Shannon isn’t my girl. But I did feel somewhat protective over her when Killian tried to stake his claim.

  Killian narrows his eyes at me. “Your girl?”

  Ignoring Killian and Preston’s intense gazes, I hook my arm around Shannon’s back and lead her out of the house where the air already feels lighter. Just being away from my friends helps me to relax.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” I say to Shannon, releasing my grip on her. “I was just trying to—”

  She holds out her hand to stop me. “I know. No worries, okay? This isn’t a date. Just two friends having breakfast together.”

  Letting out the breath of air I was holding, I mutter, “Right. Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

  “Yeah, me too. My stomach has been growling since I woke up.”

  Even at this hour, the street is crowded with half- drunk people stumbling out of the houses occupied by the sports teams on campus. Beer cans and trash are littered across every lawn. The old Victorian houses, despite their pristine shine, look a hot mess. Weekends are the worst around here. It doesn’t hurt that the fraternities and sororit
ies are one block over from us. Greek Row is already alive, the soft hum of rock music filling the air.

  When we reach the end of the on-campus housing, we cross over Broad Street to the coffee shop. Broad Street Beans is a staple at Strickland University.

  “Was Jordan pissed when you got home?”

  Shannon shakes her head. “No, not really. Thank God.” I can hear the relief in her voice. “She said the dry cleaner could remove the stain no problem. I hope that’s true. Her dress cost a fortune that I don’t have.”

  Last night, right before Shannon went home, I accidentally spilled the rest of my beer on her dress. She looked so panicked I wasn’t sure what to do other than offer to have it cleaned.

  “Let me pay for it… since it was my fault.”

  She peeks up at me from beneath her light brows, pretty green eyes fixed on me. “That’s sweet of you to offer, Jamie. But you don’t have to do that.”

  Money is tight for Shannon. She’s good at hiding the fact she doesn’t quite fit in with the girls in her sorority. It’s not that she doesn’t look the part of a Kappa girl because she does, but most of her sisters have trust funds like my friends and me. Scholarship kids are few and far between at Strick U. Jordan and a few of Shannon’s sisters have made it easier for Shannon to conceal the truth. I’m one of the few people outside of her inner circle who knows she commutes to campus.

  “If you insist,” I lie, intending to call Jordan after I take Shannon home to tell her to send the dry cleaning bill to me.

  My dad grew up so poor he never knew if or when he’d eat. Now that he’s a self-made tech billionaire, he gives back in any way he can. I have the largest trust fund of all my friends as well as an actual empire to share with my siblings. Sometimes, I feel a little guilty having so much while others struggle. It’s not that Shannon is a charity case, but some people just need a little help to make their life easier.