Pucked Over (Pucked #3) (26 page)

I put my hands up to stop her. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

I’m not in the mood for another lecture on how dirty professional hockey players are. I’ve already had more than one since the Randy introduction. My mother’s assumption is that he only wants one thing, and once he gets it he’ll toss me aside like a half-eaten taco. She didn’t use that exact analogy, I don’t think, but I stop listening almost as soon as she starts in on me.

She’s not exactly wrong. But the point is, I also only want one thing from Randy, and that’s his awesome dick inside me. But I can’t tell her that. She thinks I need a break after Benji. He’s still calling, and that worries her. He’s sent a few texts and left a couple of voice mails, but they were predictably him: the words were sweet, and the tone was not.

Looks like I’m out of options where seeing Randy is concerned. I’m sure he’ll get bored of chasing me soon and end up banging a puck bunny. Not that he isn’t already doing that. I just haven’t borne witness to it through social media—yet. It’s bound to happen. I can’t be the only person he’s screwing, seeing as there’s so much time between screw sessions. And that’s part of casual fun, right? I could screw someone else, too.

I don’t want that to bother me. But it does. A lot. Maybe if Benji hadn’t been such a horrible boyfriend, I wouldn’t be at risk of getting attached to the first guy who’s remotely nice to me.

Unmade Beds

RANDY

We’re in Toronto, we won the game, and I should be naked in my hotel room with Lily underneath me. Or on top of me. I checked in twice more to see if anything had changed, but she couldn’t find a way to make it work. Today I got a picture of her in her skating getup. I don’t know why, but those little skirts make me so fucking hard.

So instead of being balls deep inside that sweet, hot pussy, I’m sitting at a table in the bar with Lance. He’s past the moping phase now, or at least he’s acting like he’s past it. He’s taking bunnies home or back to hotel rooms again. And because they know that, a couple of them have found their way to our table. Lance bought them drinks, which means I feel obligated to stay and chat.

Maybe I should have gone to Guelph tonight. I could’ve cabbed it, called her, booked a hotel room for a few hours, then cabbed it back in time for my flight out in the morning. But I didn’t. So I’m here listening to these girls talk and talk about how much they love hockey.

The one sitting beside me is wearing a low-cut top and lots of eye makeup. I think her eyelashes might be fake, or they’re just insanely long. She keeps moving her chair closer until she’s almost in my lap, then she puts her hand on my arm.

“Wow! Your art is amazing! Where do you get it done?”

“I go to this place in downtown Chicago.” I’m used to handsy chicks. Normally it doesn’t bother me, but I’m in a bad mood. I wanted Lily this weekend, and I don’t get to have her. I’m bratty.

“Really? I have friends in Chicago! I’ve been thinking about getting some new art, and I’m looking for someone good. What’s the place called?”

“Inked Armor. They’re booked out, like, six months to a year in advance, and they don’t do walk-ins. I see this guy Hayden. He’s a master artist. Moody as fuck, but all his work is amazing.”

“Oh. Wow. Good to know.” She nods like this means something to her. “So
…
” She bites her lip and gives me what I suspect is supposed to be a coy smile. “Do you have any other ink you’re hiding?”

I fight an eye roll. “I only have the sleeve right now.”

“Does it go all the way to your shoulder?” Her fingertips slide under my cuff. She’s trying to segue, and I’m too preoccupied with the fact that she’s not Lily—and why that matters—to assess what’s coming.

“Yeah. It’s a full.”

She leans in until her breasts press against my arm and her lips are at my ear. “Maybe you wanna go back to your room and I can show you my ink?”

Miller’s long gone with Sunny. Waters and Westinghouse are bromancing it up in their room since their girlfriends are back in Chicago. There’s no one here to give me any grief about hooking up. Lily and I aren’t a thing. I haven’t seen her in more than a month, and she’s not falling all over herself to see me. It shouldn’t be an issue for me to bag a random and release some of the pent-up tension I’ve been carrying around since last goddamn month.

It shouldn’t. So I don’t know why I stall instead of saying yes right away.

“It’s okay if you have a roommate. I’m not shy.” She bats her abnormally long eyelashes.

“I don’t have a roommate.”

“Great. So I can have you all to myself.” She hooks her purse over her shoulder, looking at me expectantly.

Lance has his arm around the other girl, his hand resting near her tit. He looks at me, then at her, then back at me. “You out, Ballistic?”

“Uh, I don’t—” I should feel something other than conflict, like maybe some kind of reaction in my pants, but there’s nothing. Not even a hint of hard-on happening.

Lance eyes her again. “You check your messages lately?”

I don’t know why he’s asking me that. I’ve got this weird feeling in my stomach like I drank too much. That could explain the lack of action in my pants, except I’ve only had three beers. That’s nothing. I can drink at least six before I start feeling it.

I reach behind me for my jacket and feel around in the pocket for my phone. The girl who thinks she’s going to get naked with me puts her palm on my thigh and squeezes. “You can check your messages on the way to your room, right?”

I ignore her and her wandering hand and look at my phone. I checked it a couple hours ago after the game on the way to the bar, but I had nothing—not even a good luck message from Lily, which kind of sucked. Now there are fifteen new messages, all of which have appeared in the last half hour. I don’t know what the deal is with the reception here in Canada. Miller warned me it can be wonky sometimes. It’s weird, like this country creates some kind of phone limbo.

Some of the messages are from Miller—but his contact is all screwy, coming up as a number instead of his name. Several are from another number that’s vaguely familiar. The girl beside me is still talking. Her hand’s still on my thigh. I move it off because it’s distracting. “Gimme a minute.”

I skip the messages from Miller and check the other ones.

Msg me when u get this. I can take Uber 2u

idk what hotel ur at

Sunny isn’t answring

Lft u vm

Got hotel addy. On my way, ok?

“Fuck.” A horrible feeling slams into me like a puck to the groin. “Fuck, fuck,
fuck
.” I scrub a palm over my face.

The girl puts a hand on my arm. “Is everything okay? Why don’t we go upstairs?”

“Can you back off?” I’m way loud. And angry. For a lot of reasons I don’t understand.

She blinks a few times, her caterpillar eyelashes fluttering. “What’s your problem?”

My phone beeps with another message:

here

“I gotta go.” I push my chair away from the table. “I’ll get you for the drinks tomorrow, yeah?” I say to Lance.

“Sure thing, Ballistic. You okay?”

“I don’t know yet.”

The girl, who’s clueless, stands up like she’s ready to come with me. I hold it up, prepared to shut her down, but Lance grabs her by the wrist and pulls her close. “He’s got shit to take care of. You can stay here with us, gorgeous.”

She’s does that blinking thing again, but seems too stunned or maybe confused to argue. Lance pulls her down in the chair beside him. I owe him one.

Grabbing my jacket, I make my way to the exit. I don’t want Lily to see Lance with the girls. Nothing happened, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel like shit about what might or might not have if I hadn’t gotten her messages. I hit the call button and bring the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” her voice hits me in stereo.

She’s standing in the lobby, close to the elevators. She’s wearing a skirt, and her legs are bare. Her shirt has a sheen to it—fitted, pretty, soft. My cock jerks like it’s been electrocuted. I cross the room, punch the button for the elevator, and slide an arm around her from behind.

I lower my mouth to her ear. “You came.”

She gasps, and her phone drops to the carpeted floor. “You scared the crap out of me!”

She turns around and puts her hands out as if to push me, but I tighten my grip around her, crushing her to my chest.

“Seriously, why didn’t—”

I don’t give her a chance to finish the question. I tilt her head back and take her mouth. It’s already open, so I don’t have to fight to get my tongue inside. She tastes sweet, like she’s been eating candy. She stops trying to push me away and holds on to my shirt. I don’t give a shit that we’re in the middle of the lobby and I’ve got my tongue down her throat. I may also have my hand on her ass.

I hear my name and see the flash of a camera, reminding me that while I’m fine with this PDA, Lily’s picture posted all over the bunny sites—with me groping her—isn’t going to go over well with Waters or Miller. It’s more Waters I’m concerned about.

I move my hand to her waist and break the kiss, pressing my forehead against hers. “Hi.”

“Hi back,” she says breathlessly.

“You came.”

“Well, not yet. But based on this greeting, I probably will soon.” Her laugh is shaky, laced with nervousness maybe, or uncertainty.

The elevator dings. I scoop up her phone, take her hand, and pull her inside, slamming my thumb against the
close door
button repeatedly before anyone else can get in with us. We narrowly miss having to share the space with another couple. As soon as we’re alone, I press the button for the twenty-second floor. Then I cage her against the wall with my arms.

“I didn’t think you were coming.” I don’t mean to sound pissed, or like it’s an accusation, but I think I do. I don’t get what the hell is happening, or why I’m feeling so messed up. It’s not like we’re a thing. She’s not my girlfriend. I’m the guy she’s fucking, or being fucked by, every once in a while.

“Neither did I.” She swallows hard.

Her hands are on my chest, those gorgeous, dark brown eyes locked on mine. Her full lips are parted, breath still coming fast.

“I’m really glad you did.” I lean down, intending to kiss her, but the elevator dings. A group of guys joins us, forcing me to back off.

Lily drops her head and stares at her shoes. She’s wearing navy flats. The toes are scuffed. The cuff of her jacket has a string hanging from it, and one of the buttons is missing. She’s carrying what I’d call a girl-sized duffle bag. It’s worn out to the point that it looks like it’s going to fall apart.

She never talks about money with me, but then most of our conversations don’t include a lot of personal facts. Based on my discussions with Miller, I have a feeling the two-jobs thing is about more than saving for school. There are loans for that.

She had to take a cab to get here, and that cost money. Which I have lots of, and clearly she doesn’t. But she’s never said anything about it, ever. Maybe she doesn’t trust me, or she’s embarrassed. Both of those possibilities bother me. Normally this isn’t something I’d be concerned with, but it’s just that making things easier for Lily would make things easier for me.

It’s about more than that, though, if I’m honest. Lily’s almost-absence tonight nearly caused me to make a choice I wouldn’t have felt good about. I’m not even sure I wanted to feel good about it. I want to say I wouldn’t have done it, that I wouldn’t have brought that girl up to my room and fucked her. But I don’t know if it’s true, and for some reason that’s messing with my head.

I put an arm around Lily’s shoulder and pull her to me because one of the guys keeps looking over at her, and I don’t like it. I glare at him, and he drops his gaze to the floor.

Thankfully, the next time the elevator stops we can get off; otherwise I’m liable to start something I shouldn’t. I’m really worked up, and I don’t think it’s going to get better until I’m inside Lily. I shoulder-check the guy on the way out because he’s an idiot and won’t move to make it easy for Lily to get past him.

Taking her hand, I guide her to my room. I jam the card in the door and glance over my shoulder. She’s standing behind me, fidgeting nervously with the frayed strap of her bag. Her eyes go wide when she looks at me, probably because of my expression. I imagine it’s fairly fucking intense. “I hope you weren’t planning on getting any sleep tonight.”

“And here I thought we were gonna have a little snuggle and a nap.” A wavering smile pulls at her perfect, luscious lips. Her words are meant to be snarky, but her voice is soft. “Of course I don’t plan on sleeping,” she adds. “What the hell would be the point of me coming all the way here for that?”

This is what I need. Confirmation that she’s here for one reason and one reason only: To get fucked.

All the Fires in the World

LILY

I take three steps into the room and jump at the sound of the door slamming shut. I turn to find Randy latching the safety. He advances on me, and I take a cautious step back. I don’t know why—okay, I do. His eyes are fiery with lust, but for some reason he looks angry. Also, his hands are balled into fists. He must notice me staring at them because he flexes and releases them a couple of times, then rolls his head on his shoulders. I’m not sure if I’m the reason for his current state, but there’s something exhilarating about having a man like Randy look like he’s about to lose control. It’s also a little unnerving.

I have to pee, but I’m thinking he’s not going to be interested in letting me go right now. I back into the wall, and he stops coming at me when we’re six inches apart. His warm, minty breath washes over my face.

“I tried to call you this afternoon, and yesterday.” His words are heavy, dropping like boulders.