Pucked (13 page)

I arrive home from work the following evening to find Buck on my couch, drinking my beer and eating my leftovers. I should’ve anticipated this; he does it almost every time he comes home from an away game. It’s his way of scamming a meal while he waits for a truckload of food to be delivered to his house since he doesn’t do his own shopping.

“
Where’s your car?”

“
A friend dropped me off.”

I drop my purse on the kitchen table and head straight for the fridge. If Buck is home, Alex is, too. His voice mail from the previous night is the last I heard from him. It’s disappointing to have Buck taking up space in my living room yet hear nothing from my sometimes-stalker.

“
Wow. You sure don’t waste any time.” By friend, I’m assuming Buck means one of his puck bunnies. Buck doesn’t “date” in the traditional sense of the word. He does, however, have a rotation of women he sleeps with in Chicago. He calls them his “regulars.” One of these days he’s going to contract an STD and put his parts out of commission.

“
What can I say? My ladies miss me when I’m away.” Buck sets up the Xbox with a lecherous smile.

“
You’re disgusting.”

“
I have needs.”

He regales me with the finer details of the last four games while we play NHL hockey. Buck plays himself, and I have my own awesome avatar which I created. His phone keeps dinging with endless messages while we play, so it’s easier to kick his ass.

“
You’re popular tonight,” I say after the eight-millionth text comes through.

“
Some of the guys are picking me up in twenty.”

“
Didn’t you spend the last two weeks on the road with them? How aren’t you all sick of each other?”

Buck shrugs. “I’m new to the team. We need to talk strategy for the next game since we’re facing our biggest competitor in the league.”

“
Oh. Right.” I try not to perk up, curious who might be coming to get him and if Alex is among his buddies now.

Ten minutes later, he gets a call from some girl named
Honey
. All the puck bunnies who call him are named
Honey
. Probably easier than remembering their real names. He pauses the game while he sets up round two of puck bunny lovin’ for later in the evening, inviting
Honey
to the bar. He even goes so far as to suggest she bring some friends. This is where my beliefs about the habits of hockey players originate from. Once he hangs up, Buck makes another call, this time to a teammate. He kindly informs whoever it is that he has bunnies lined up and primed for action. He really is a dog.

Buck pockets his phone. “The guys’ll be here in two—you cool if we rematch later?”

“
You would’ve lost anyway.” I turn off the Xbox and flip through the channels, looking for some crappy reality television show to watch. Might as well turn my brain into sawdust seeing as I don’t have any other plans, because I’m sure as hell not waiting for Alex to call.

“
Don’t forget to bathe in bleach later,” I say, just to get a dig in.

“
Not all the chicks I hang out with are dirty.”

I drop the remote and slow clap. “Congratulations. You said it with a straight face.”

He flips me the bird on his way out the door.

After five minutes of reality television, I want to poke my eyes out. I surf through the music channels and stumble on a station dedicated to The Tragically Hip. I’ll have to tell Alex about this station since he seems to love the band. When he texts me. If he texts me.

Annoyed I’m being such a girl, I decide it’s time to change into jammies and prep for my meetings tomorrow. I give the Waters beaver a rub under the chin as I pass him on the way to my dresser. Of all the gifts I’ve received from Alex, the beaver is the most bizarre. It’s found a special home on my bed, between my pillows. I regret to admit I snuggled with it last night. The stupid thing is cuddly.

Once I’ve changed into boxers and a V-neck tee, I grab a stack of client portfolios and the box of Godiva and settle on the couch again. Two paragraphs into the report, I’m interrupted by a knock at the door. Buck probably forgot something, such as an industrial-sized bottle of hand sanitizer. He’ll need it after he sleeps with whatever puck bunny he’s called upon this evening. I shove my pen in my hair and push my ill-fitting spare glasses up my nose, ready to yell at him for making me get up.

I wrench open the door, scathing comment ready to fly. Except it’s not Buck.

It’s Alex. He looks like shit. Hot shit, but shit nonetheless.

VIOLET

Alex has a nasty gash over his right eye with one of those tiny fly bandages holding the skin together. He looks like he hasn’t shaved since the last time I saw him. My mind immediately wanders to how his scruff would feel between my thighs. Combined with the slight slump of his shoulders, he looks cashed. I want to hug him and kiss his eyebrow better. I manage to control myself.

“
Um, hi. What happened to your face?”

“
Hey.” He touches the wound, looking uncomfortable. “It’s nothing. A little on-ice argument.”

“
You didn’t get into a fight during the last game.”

A tiny grin appears. “So you watched it?”

Dammit. Now he’ll think I’m watching for him. I nod and shrug. “Yeah. I watch most of the games. That looks pretty bad.”

“
It looks worse than it is.” His eyes dart below my neck.

I cross my arms over my chest. It’s cold, and I’m not wearing a bra. “Buck left a few minutes ago.”

“
I saw Kirk pick him up. We’re supposed to discuss strategy tonight. I thought now would be a good time to return your glasses. I called last night after the game
—
did you get my message?”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.
Yeah, you sexy stalker freak, I must be some sort of rock star in bed and it turns me on that you seem a wee bit obsessed
doesn’t seem appropriate. I go with the truth instead.

“
I was out with a friend. I didn’t get the message until I got home, and it was late.”

His brows knit together. “A friend?”

“
My bestie, Charlene. We watched the game at her place.”

“
Oh. That’s good.” He ducks his head and peeks up. “Can I come in?”

It’s hard to believe he’s such a player with how sweet he’s being. “Yeah, unless you’re planning on binding and gagging me so you can take me to your lair. If that’s what you had in mind, I’d prefer you stay outside while I call the police and possibly a mental health facility.” And there goes my mouth, spewing crap again.

“
Uh
. . .” Alex stares for a few long seconds.

His eyes drop to my chest again even though I’m covering the girls. “Not very reassuring, Alex.”

“
What?” He shakes his head, his eyes lift, then drop again. “Oh, oh right, no. I’m not planning on gagging you and taking you to my lair. I don’t even have a lair.”

“
Good to know.” I half
smile and motion him inside. “Come in before I get frostbite on my nipples.”

He looks momentarily ashamed. I can’t fault him since I’m braless again. At this rate, he’s going to think I never wear one. A gust of frosty air follows him inside, making me shiver. He might look as if he’s been sleeping in his car for the past few days, but he smells fantastic.

Alex shrugs out of his jacket. His short-sleeved T-shirt pulls tight across his chest and hugs his perfectly chiseled arms. He’s so built it’s disgusting. I might whistle-breathe as I openly admire his body.

“
You look hot.” Alex’s eyes go wide. “Shit, sorry. Please don’t ask me to leave.”

I laugh; we’re two peas in a pod with our awkwardness. “Can I get you something to drink? I have beer, water, milk, and orange juice.”

“
A beer would be great.”

I grab two bottles from the fridge, pop the caps, pass him one, and then motion for him to follow me to the living room. Alex sits in the middle of the couch, forcing me into close proximity. Couches aren’t safe where he’s concerned. It’s where we went from talking to making out to semi-naked. I still want to straddle him and grind all up on his shit.

“
You’re listening to The Hip.” His scruffy smile is adorable.

It takes me a few seconds to clue into the music reference. “Actually I found a dedicated station. Crazy, right?” I’m so nervous, like a high schooler with a crush. On a guy with a dick the size of Canada.

“
I listen to it all the time. I’ve seen The Hip in concert thirty-seven times,” Alex says proudly.

“
Thirty-seven times? You must really love them.”

He nods as if it’s normal to see the same band so many times. His gaze sweeps over me. “No Spiderman pajamas tonight?”

“
They’re in the wash.”

“
Too bad. I liked them a lot.” He’s looking at my chest again. “I like this, too.”

“
You liked getting me out of them.” I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling.

I shouldn’t be flirting with him after all the media crap I’ve seen, but he’s sitting in my living room, smelling awesome, looking hot, and my beaver is excited.

His tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip. The split has healed. “I liked that part, too.”

Silence stretches between us as memories of getting naked with Alex resurface. Being alone with him is unwise. My beaver is far too interested in a repeat of those events. In the past week, I’ve received more gifts from him than from all my previous boyfriends combined. Alex has money to throw around, so maybe it’s typical behavior. I’d be less conflicted if the tabloids didn’t paint him in such an unfavorable light.

“
Is that why you came by?” I hope it’s not the only reason. I don’t think I’m cut out for casual sex.

“
To get you out of your clothes? No.” He distracts me with his dimples. “Mostly I wanted an excuse to see you.”

“
Oh. Well that’s . . . good.”

“
I thought I was making it obvious.”

Alex does the thing guys do when they’re getting ready to make a move. His eyes drop to my mouth, and he leans in. Then he tucks a few errant strands of hair behind my ear. My hands seem to have a mind of their own. They move along his arms, feeling up his biceps.

I forget my inner turmoil and make it clear I’m okay with more contact by climbing into his lap. His calloused fingers curl around the nape of my neck, and our lips connect. I love his mouth.

His monster of an erection nestles between my legs, and dear Lord, does it ever feel awesome. It could bust a zipper it’s so huge. I imagine it with little fists, punching its way out, and giggle.

Alex bites my lip. “Are you laughing?”

“
No.” I stifle a chuckle.

“
No?” His lips travel up the side of my jaw, his soft beard tickling my skin. He grips my ass as he lifts his hips. He’s so hard. Everywhere.

“
What’s so funny?”

I moan, all loud and desperate. I’m so horny; it’s not funny at all. I wrap around him koala style, pressing closer. Sneaking a hand between us I palm him through his pants, excited by the low, primal sound Alex makes. I drag the fly down, ready to slide a finger—or my whole hand—into the opening.

While I’m busy working my way into his boxers, Alex’s palm moves under my shirt. I’m so glad I ditched my bra.

I freeze at a sudden knock. Only Buck sounds as if he’s sledgehammering through the door. With reluctance, I break the kiss. “Go away. I’m watching TV naked!”

Alex opens his mouth to speak, his hand still on my boob. I shush him with a palm over his mouth.

“
Bullshit!” Buck yells. “That’s weird even for you, Vi. Open the door. I forgot my wallet in your bathroom.”

“
You need to hide!” I jump out of Alex’s lap and pull on his arm, but he doesn’t budge.