Authors: Helena Hunting
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Romantic Comedy, #Contemporary, #Sports, #General Fiction
Forever Pucked (37 page)
I toss the package to the floor. “We’ll pretend I didn’t see that. Okay?”
“Okay?” It’s more question than anything.
“The only thing I want to do is love you right now.”
She runs her fingers through my hair and hooks her legs around my waist. “I like the sound of that.”
We kiss until we’re breathless and my desire to be inside her is too strong to deny.
The crash of the ocean against the rocks, the soft lilt of birds, the whisper of leaves brushing against each other in the breeze fade away as Violet’s sweet sighs turn into moans.
I can’t wait to love this woman forever.
All The Loves
VIOLET
Two summers later
It’s a gorgeous day at the Chicago cottage. Training camp starts in less than a month, so we’re getting in all the relaxation time we can. Alex’s contract runs out at the end of this coming season, but there are lots of interested teams, so he’s not worried.
I’m about to head to the dock when Alex comes down the stairs. I stop arranging fruit for a second to watch him because he’s shirtless and always so damn hot.
The paring knife in my hand clatters to the table. “What the—”
“Ready to go swimming?” He pauses on the bottom stair and strikes a pose.
“You can’t be serious.”
“About swimming? It’s eight million degrees out, Violet. What else would we do on a perfect day like this?”
“I mean you can’t be serious with that.” I gesture to his bathing attire.
His hands go to his hips, Superman style. “I don’t see anything wrong with my suit. It’s aerodynamic.”
It’s aerodynamic all right. Alex is wearing a red Speedo. Through the tight fabric I can see the entire outline of Super MC, including the ridge at the head. We’re not alone. No one can ever be adequately prepared for the Super MC in all his ridge-outlined glory.
“There’s too much penis going on, Alex. You’ll scare people with that.” There’s so much business. I have no idea how he’s managing to keep himself in there. There will be some kind of wardrobe malfunction before the end of the day.
Buck appears at the top of the stairs, along with a weebling Logan. His mop of white blond hair and dimpled smile draw my attention away from Alex’s ridiculous spandex atrocity.
Logan puts his arms out. “Up! Up! Dada!”
Buck hoists him up and ambles down the stairs. Logan is a tank. He’s definitely going to be a hockey boy, just like his dad.
“Oh my God. What the hell is that?” I point at Buck’s junk and then look away.
“Like it, Vi?”
I thought Alex’s Speedo action was bad, but it’s got nothing on the thing Buck has containing his man unit.
Containing
is not really the right word. It’s like he tied a pouch around his parts and is calling it a bathing suit.
“Can the two of you please, for the love of penis, go put on regular bathing suits? We have people coming over who aren’t exposed to your crazy on a regular basis.”
Sunny comes out of the bathroom with a sigh. She’s pregnant again, and it’s the vomiting stage. She has several more months before the baby wreaks havoc on her vagina, but in the meantime he or she is testing her ability to hold down food.
“Mama!” Logan pushes away from Buck and waddle-runs over to her on his chubby, unsteady legs. He has two speeds, run and bolt. He attaches himself to Sunny’s leg.
“Is this some kind of competition?” she asks when she takes in the horror of our husbands.
“I think they want to know who can embarrass themselves the most in one weekend.”
“Didn’t you invite those people from across the lake to come over? They won’t want to be our friends if you’re dressed like that.” Sunny motions to their crotches.
Lily appears at the top of the stairs next, with Randy behind her. She’s all smirky and satisfied looking. Damn her. But then she takes a few steps down, and I’m greeted with the sight of yet another well-endowed man wearing a horribly inappropriate bathing suit.
Sunny rolls her eyes. “What is this? A penis parade?”
I start laughing, and then groaning as I hold my tummy. Alex rushes over and puts his hand on my stomach. “Are you okay? Is everything okay?”
“Other than the fact that I’m probably going to pee myself, I’m fine.”
He sinks to his knees in front of me and rests his cheek against my tummy. He slides his hands under my bathing suit cover up and lifts it over my belly. “Alex!”
“I just wanna say hi.” He drops the fabric so he’s hidden under the material. It would look perverse, except for the fact that he’s cooing at my tummy. Or rather, he’s cooing at what’s brewing in my tummy.
“Hey there, little buddy. I’ll see you in a few months, okay? You be good in there.”
He pops back out, oblivious to any weird discomfort he’s caused for anyone.
Phones start chiming with messages from Darren and Charlene. Unfortunately, Lance can’t make it this time.
Commotion follows as food and towels are gathered. Buck has to run after Logan and wrestle him into his little tiny lifejacket before he gets too close to the beach. Sunny follows behind them, and Randy throws Lily over his shoulder, his hand on her ass as he runs across the beach and down the dock, jumping into the water.
Alex drops a kiss on my shoulder. “You feeling okay today, baby?”
“I feel great.” I turn and let him lift me onto the counter. He steps between my legs, his flat stomach bumping my rounded one.
The first trimester I felt like an exhausted bag of shit. I was never so grateful to be working from home almost all the time now. But sixteen weeks in, I’m starting to show, and I feel fantastic. And my hair looks amazing.
I’m so happy.
I’m so in love with this man. And lucky me, he’s equally as in love with me. I feel it in every touch, every glance, every whispered—and groaned—declaration.
It’s amazing how a poorly thought-out one-night stand can turn into a forever kind of love.
Because that’s exactly what Alex is: my forever.
Beaver
+
Super MC
Helena Hunting
NYT and USA Today bestselling author of The PUCKED Series, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
Other Titles By
Helena Hunting
PUCKED SERIES
THE CLIPPED WINGS SERIES
STANDALONE NOVELS
Helena Hunting
“You broke into my apartment? How the hell did you get in here?” Verity’s limbs felt weak and wobbly. Her heart thundered in her ears. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and tingles set up shop between her legs. Goddamnit. Why did he have to be so hot?
He raised an eyebrow. “I climbed the fire escape. You left your window wide open. Anyone could get in here.”
“Get out!” Verity pointed to the door. “How did you know this was my place?”
“Bike messengers have ways.” Hudson tossed a large envelope on the coffee table. “I just wanted to drop off the pictures from Friday.”
“You could have slipped them under the door instead of coming into my apartment.”
“I couldn’t get in the building,” he said calmly. “I also thought I’d get some clarification on a couple of things.”
“Leave!” Verity pointed to the door, but she wasn’t very convincing in her assertiveness—even to herself. Her knees finally gave out, and she melted to the floor.
Hudson pushed to his feet and crossed to where she’d crumpled dramatically. For a few seconds she was at eye level with his crotch. Then he crouched down and settled his elbows on his knees. The silver ball in his mouth popped out between his lips and slid back and forth once before it disappeared back inside. His blue eyes locked onto hers.
“Are you drunk?”
She sat up straighter and pushed her chest out until the buttons on her blouse strained. “I’m buzzed.”
“Why were you out for drinks with your boss? You hate him.”
“Because I want to know what’s in those damn packages, and because when I picked up one from your main office today, I saw you all cozied up to that cute little blonde.” Martinis were the worst kind of truth serum for Verity.
“You mean my other girlfriend?” The right side of Hudson’s mouth quirked up.
“You’re an asshole.”
“You should probably know, that cute little blonde is one of my half-sisters, and she’s thirteen. I was taking her out for lunch.”
Verity’s mouth opened to fire a snarky response, but the only thing that came was a quiet, cracked, “Oh.” The girl’s age would explain her questionable fashion choices.
“So back to clarifying…” Hudson cleared his throat. “If she’s my other girlfriend, what are you?”
Oh shit. It was a trap. She’d baited it herself. Verity folded her legs under her and pushed up, forgetting about the ankle she’d rolled. She yelped and fell forward, face-planting into Hudson’s chest and knocking them both off balance. He landed on his ass, and she landed on top of him. It would have been the perfect position under different circumstances.
She blew her hair out of her face and struggled to get up. “I’m just the girl you’re stalking.”
Hudson wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her where she was. “I think you like me stalking you.”
Verity snorted a very unfeminine snort. “Well, you’re clearly a criminal, so of course you’d think that.”
“We’re back to that, are we? Don’t you think the stereotype is getting a little old?” The arm around her waist tightened. His eyes dropped from hers and focused on her chest pressed against his. “I don’t know if you know this, but this shirt is pretty much transparent. I can see your bra through it. And that’s a lot of cleavage you’ve got going on there.” He stuck a finger in it to demonstrate. “If I was your boyfriend, I don’t think I’d be all that happy that you wore it to work today. Especially paired with this skirt and knowing what a weirdo your boss is.” Hudson’s hand eased lower to her ass. He gave it a little squeeze.
“I guess it’s a good thing you’re not my boyfriend then, isn’t it?”
“Definitely a good thing.” Hudson squeezed harder and shifted under her. “Way better that I’m just stalking your fine ass.”
They stared at each other for a half-second before Verity yanked off his beanie, shoved her hands into his hat-head hair and plastered her mouth to his.
LEARN MORE about Felony Ever After
Cici vs. The Elevator
The floor was quiet and dark when I packed my bag to go home. I stuck my head in Maggie’s door to say good night, only to find her office empty. It was really unlike her to leave without saying goodbye, maybe she had a hot date. I'd definitely have to get details about that tomorrow. At least one of us should be getting some action. I was starting to bulk up on the right side from all of my self-help sessions. Perhaps when work settled down I’d be able to focus on things like having a relationship, learning how not to murder house plants, and eating less of those frozen dinners that taste like sadness and gym shorts.
I tapped my foot as I waited not so patiently for the elevator. I should have taken the stairs, but that seemed like too much effort. My stomach was rumbling, as all I’d had to eat was a granola bar and a soda from the vending machine. My workload was daunting when I realized how much Cameron had left undone. The only break I took was to check YouTube. As I feared, “Mime Smackdown” was one of the top videos. I should have had my own channel at this point, with all the internet cameos I’d made. All I wanted was to get some food and curl up on the couch with my cat and my remote. It was quite the glamorous life I'd carved out for myself.
When the elevator dinged its arrival, I lunged toward the doors, only to stop short at the sight of its current occupant. Oh my. If I had pearls, I’d be clutching them. To describe this being as a man was an egregious slight. He was tall, with light brown hair and eyes such a vivid blue I audibly whimpered. He was wearing a suit that looked like it had been crafted by tiny elves specifically for this body. It looked black at first, but if you looked closer and harder—and I was—it was more of a very dark blue. He probably modeled this suit at some point and the designer told him to just keep the damn thing because there was no hope of ever selling it to the common man now. In fact, the only way this suit could look any better was if it were on my bedroom floor.
The buzzing sound that started somewhere in the back of my mind moved to the forefront and I realized Mr. Suit God was holding the elevator door open with his Suit God arms, and it was protesting loudly. Something told me if he were touching me with those arms I’d be screaming too.
“Would you care to join me?” Mr. Suit God said with a slight chuckle. “I’m not sure how much longer I can hold this open.”
Holy crap, Carrington. Get your shit together. Stop violating him with your eyes and talk to him like a human being. Deep breath, aaaaaand…
“Are you going down on me—with me? Down. Are you going down? To the first floor, I mean. I didn’t mean anything else.”
