Pucking Sweet: An MMF Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 3)
Pucking Sweet: Chapter 20

The feeling out on this dance floor is carnal. I’m letting the music and the mood move me. My limbs all feel loose, and my body is heating up. I sway and bounce to the beat, tossing my head back, running my fingers through my hair.

Behind me, Kyle the investment banker dances like a frat boy. He’s not clumsy, but he’s not skilled either. But he’s sweet and friendly and he smells really good. That’s about all I can ask for in a one-night stand, right?

He cradles my hips with his hands, rocking to the beat with me. His thumbs brush little circles on my hip bones as his fingers inch perilously close to my bikini line. A little more to the left, and this man will be cupping my pussy over my dress.

I want this, right? What did Tina say? I am exorcising this freaking demon.

His hand inches closer and I gasp, spinning around to face him. I’m more comfortable with the idea of his hands on my ass than my pussy. Bending at the knees a bit, he brushes my hair back and says in my ear, “Want to get out of here?”

Oh, god…

I have to leave with him! To have sex with this man, I have to get in a car and go to some other location. Why does the very idea make me want to run to the nearest wall and pull the fire alarm? There is no way I’m leaving here with a stranger. No sex is worth that anxiety. I don’t care how good it is.

I guess we could have sex here…maybe in the bathroom? Ugh, no. That’s not happening either. Poppy St. James does not have hookup sex in dirty bar bathrooms. But if we’re not having sex in the bathroom, and I’m not leaving here with him to have sex anywhere else, that doesn’t really leave us a lot of options.

Kyle tips my face up. “We could go to my place. I rent a little studio over by H Street.”

Sure, except the “H” now stands for “How ’bout not, and say we did?”

Poor Kyle. It’s not his fault I can’t even do a one-night stand right. I’m all twisted up in my head, thinking through every scenario. I haven’t showered since last night, and I’ve been running around all day. With everything I had to drink tonight, I don’t feel particularly sexy at the moment anyway. In fact, I’m feeling kind of bloaty and—

“Poppy.”

A large hand clasps down on my shoulder, pulling me backward. I spin around, following the colorful spray of tattoos up the forearm to see Lukas standing there looking murderous. The music changes and the lights switch to red and orange, the colors dancing like flames on his face. I swear, he looks like a sexy devil glaring down at me.

My heart beats with instant relief. “Lukas—”

“Let’s go,” he says, extracting me from Kyle’s embrace.

But Kyle doesn’t let go. “Hey, pal. Take your hands off her. Poppy and I were just about to leave.”

On instinct, I grab a handful of Lukas’s shirt. He glances down, a question in his eyes. I answer with a pleading look of my own. His jaw tightens as he wraps his tattooed arm around my shoulders. He raises his free hand toward Kyle, pointing a finger in the air. “First, I am not your pal. Second”—he flicks up another finger—“Poppy isn’t going anywhere with you, now or ever. You had a nice dance, and now it’s time for you to go.”

Kyle huffs, alcohol and embarrassment fueling him as he glances around. “I’m sorry, is she your girl or something? Because I’ve been rubbing my dick up on her for the last twenty minutes, and you’ve been nowhere to be seen, asshole—”

“Lukas, no.” I press my hands against his chest and push him back. I think he was just about to punch this investment banker in the face.

Lukas keeps his arm around me, even as he tries to step in on Kyle. “Say that again to my fuckin’ face, you khaki-wearing, limp dick motherfucker!”

“Do not touch him.” I push on his hard chest again. “Lukas, let’s go.”

“Keep your girl on a tighter leash next time,” Kyle shouts. His friends have sensed the disturbance and they’re edging closer, hackles raised in alarm.

Oh, this cannot happen. My hot-headed hockey player is not getting in a fight over me in the middle of this club. “Lukas, please,” I beg again, pressing my whole body against him. If he’s going to fight Kyle, he’ll have to physically remove me first to do it.

Lukas glances down at me again, his hand bracing my hip. There’s a fire in his eyes like I’ve never seen before, and it’s not just this sultry light show. He looks like he’s ready to peel his skin off and morph into a dragon. It’s hot and scary and my brain feels like jelly as I take any opening I can replace. I reach up, cupping his face with both hands. “Lukas, honey, look at me,” I all but shout. “Look only at me. He doesn’t matter, okay? He’s gone. He’s leaving.”

His hand tightens on my hip, fingers splayed wide as he pulls me closer. My hips press in against his thigh. I’m practically straddling his leg and—

Oh my—is he hard right now?

My heart races faster. Something about all this is turning him on. I know it can’t be me. I drive him crazy. Every other word out of his mouth seems to be a teasing joke or an expletive. And most of the time the only physical response I can elicit from him is a long-suffering eye roll or an annoyed huff.

But I’m pressed up against him now, his arm around me like he’s Tarzan and I’m Jane, and he is definitely feeling some kind of way about it. I lower a hand back to his chest, pressing my palm over his heart. Oh god, it’s racing too. A muscle in his jaw is ticking. He’s like a bomb ready to explode.

I brush my thumb over the stubble on his cheek, right where I know a dimple hides. “Lukas, take me back. I want to go back to the hotel now. Please.”

Behind us, Kyle’s friends are pulling him away. The tension dissolves, and dancers start to press back in around us. Lukas keeps his hands on me, his body stiff as he peers over my head, eyes narrowed.

“Let’s go,” I say again.

“Not yet. That douche and his friends are leaving. I’m not taking you outside until I know they’re gone.”

“Well, we can’t just stand here.” I glance around, noting the way people are still watching us. “Lukas, please.” I brush my hands down his arms, following the corded muscle until I reach his hands on my hips. I turn around in his hold so we’re back to front. Lacing our fingers together, I step forward, pulling him behind me.

He lets himself be led, his fingers wrapping possessively around mine as he stays in step with me. I head over to the far end of the bar, replaceing a solitary open stool. Lukas helps me onto it, his front pressed against my back as he braces the bar with his hands to either side of me. Angry, possessive Lukas was really working for me, but it was all a show to get Kyle to go away. “You can drop the act now,” I call over my shoulder. “I’m in no danger from Lord Khaki Pants.”

“They haven’t left,” he replies. “They’re down at the other end of the bar paying their tab.”

I lean forward and peer down the length of the bar. Kyle is standing at the end between two of his banker friends. He’s giving me a heated look, one part angry, two parts yearning. He raises a brow, gesturing with a nod toward the door as if to say, “Still wanna meet me outside?”

Behind me, Lukas literally growls like an angry bear. He saw it too. Dead Kyle dares to toss me a wink.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Swiveling around on my stool, I grab Lukas by the shirt and pull him closer, my mouth near his ear. “Do me a favor and pretend we’re kissing or something. This guy is just not getting the memo.”

Lukas pulls away, searching my eyes for a split second before he cups my face and kisses the heck out of me. His mouth presses to mine, and I feel the warmth of his tongue. I taste the hoppy notes of beer on his lips. He unleashes himself, pressing me back against the bar, his fingers tangling in my hair.

I fight to hold back a moan as my knees part, giving him room to step in closer. I’m still just holding to the front of his shirt, helpless to do anything else as he kisses me. His fingers dig in at my nape, giving my hair a little tug that has me letting off a soft moan.

Just as soon as it starts, he’s cursing against my lips and pulling back, leaving me swaying on the stool.

“Well, that was pornographic.”

I glance over my shoulder to see Tina standing there, her pierced dimples on display as she grins at me. Untangling myself from Lukas, I swivel back around. “Is he gone?”

“Who? Dancer Boy?” She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, he and his friends just left. Gave me a shitty tip too.” She turns her attention to Lukas. “Hi there.” She leans across the bar, offering her hand. “Tina Renoux, Poppy’s best friend and shoulder devil.”

He laughs. “Shoulder devil, huh? I’m Lukas Novikov, Poppy’s regular devil.” He leans over me, his chest pressing against my back, and they shake hands in a swirl of colorfully tattooed forearms. His are all in the Neo-traditional style, clearly planned out to cover and flow. Tina’s arm is a hot mess of styles, evidence of her long hours spent in a tattoo shop letting various friends and lovers practice on her blank canvas.

“So, are you the new candidate?” she says, flashing me a wink.

“Candidate?”

“No,” I shout over him, patting his arm—which is still around me, by the way. “Nope. Tina, he’s my, well, Lukas is my . . . player.” What am I supposed to call the man who just had me seeing stars with his tongue in my mouth? My work associate?

“Hey, you’re a Ray,” she says with an appreciative nod. “Forward or D-man? You’re too cocky to be a goalie. All the goalies I’ve known are total adorable weirdos.”

Lukas laughs again. I feel it against my back because that’s how dang close he’s standing to me. “I’m a defenseman. Best damn defenseman in the League.”

“Well, that tracks.” She flashes me another excited grin.

I give her a look like I’m gonna murder her and her cockatiel, Sammy. She totally ignores it. “We actually just came by to grab my purse,” I shout. “We’re going back to our hotel.” The span of two seconds pass as Tina turns away to get my clutch before I’m all but throwing myself over the bar to add, “To sleep—and not together!”

Tina comes back with my clutch, still grinning like a little pink-haired witch.

“We’re going back to the hotel together because we’re both staying there,” I explain. “But he has a room, and I have a room, and we’ll each be going to those separate rooms to sleep.”

“Yeah, I think she’s got it, Pop,” Lukas teases. “I bet your friend knows how grocery stores work too.”

“Actually, I do,” Tina says.

Aaaand now they’re both conspiring against me. Time to go before they make up a secret handshake. I slip off my stool. “Well, this has been fun. Let’s do it again never, okay?”

She cackles, offering my clutch. I reach to take it, but she holds on, giving it a pull until I’m practically folded over the bar. “He’s perfect,” she whisper-shouts. “Have a great night. I slipped a mint and two condoms into your purse.”

“I hate you,” I hiss.

“Go get some.” She blows me an air kiss and lets go of the clutch, sauntering off to help more customers.

I right myself, cheeks burning, and turn to face Lukas. “Should we maybe replace some of the others? Save money on an Uber?”

“I’m an NHL superstar, remember? I can afford an Uber.” Slipping his arm around my waist, he leads me toward the front door. “The others will all replace their way back when they’re ready.”

I know he’s right. I just don’t know if I’m strong enough to ride in a cab with him alone. Not when I have the taste of his kiss on my lips. This has been a topsy-turvy kind of day, and all my careful shields are down right now. I can’t even blame the alcohol. That’s been wearing off for hours. No, I think I’m just too tired and emotionally spent to keep holding them up.

I want someone to see me. Not the Poppy I carefully curate all the time. Not the clothes and the accent and the curls. Not the business savvy and the constant, clever strategizing. I want to feel like someone could see me. Just Poppy.

More than that, I want them to want me.

And I’m tired of feeling so alone. Is Anderson right? Am I truly so insufferable, destined to be alone forever?

Lukas leads me out of Club 7, his phone in his hand as he orders the Uber. “Two minutes out,” he says, his arm still casually around my waist. As soon as the little blue sedan arrives, he’s opening the door, letting me slide in the back seat. I scoot all the way over, and he gets in. The driver pulls us into traffic. “Electric Feel” by MGMT plays softly on the stereo.

“Mmm, I love this song,” I murmur, resting my head on the cool window glass. The quiet of the car after the noise of the club is almost disorienting.

“Your friend seems cool,” Lukas offers after a minute of silence.

I smile. “Yeah, she’s great.”

“How do you know each other?”

“Her mom was my family’s private chef for eleven years. They lived over the garage.”

“Jesus. Silver spoon much?”

“Oh, please, darling.” I channel my mother’s haughtiest voice. “Silver was reserved for public use and that unmannerly Bush boy. The family always ate with 24-karat gold.”

He chuckles.

I glance across the dark car, my mood sobering. “It’s true. My family is rich. I don’t apologize for who I am or where I come from. It’s my story, just like your story belongs to you.”

He holds my gaze, searching my face. “Fair enough.”

I turn to look back out the window.

“What did she mean by ‘the candidate’?”

I go still, hand clutching my little purse. “Nothing.”

“Poppy…”

“Hmm?”

His gaze is molten, the caramel flashing gold with each streetlamp we drive under. “Why were you wasting your time dancing with that asshole?”

I look pointedly away. “Kyle was being a perfect gentleman until you showed up. And I’m allowed to dance with whoever I want, Lukas. It’s a free country.”

“Of course his name is Kyle. And what was going to happen between you and Limp Dick Kyle if I hadn’t walked up when I did?”

“Nothing.”

“Really? Because he seemed to think he was taking you home tonight. Is that because he was your chosen candidate?”

“Lukas—”

“Your candidate for what, Poppy?”

Pulse racing, anger rising, I turn to face him again. “Do I really have to explain it? You of all people should know how a one-night stand works.”

He’s still as stone as he glares at me across the car. “You were gonna fuck that guy?”

I look quickly away. “No.”

“You’re saying if I hadn’t walked up exactly when I did, you were gonna let that whiny little wannabe golf pro take you to his home and fuck you on his Tommy Bahama bedspread?”

“No,” I say again. “I wasn’t going to go through with it, okay? I mean, I was for like a minute—but I couldn’t. I just…” I drag both my hands through my hair. “God, I chickened out, okay? But you already know all this. You read the room the moment you walked up, so why are you pushing me right now? Just ask what you really want to ask.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know,” I cry. “I want you to be real with me for two freaking minutes. Is that too much to ask? Drop the bravado, drop the bullshit, and just be a person with me, Lukas. Why are you pushing me on this?”

He just shakes his head. “No, why were you going to have sex with him tonight? That’s the question I really want to ask.”

I’m not going to hide from this man. What would be the point? He has the uncanny ability to see through me anyway. I look back out the window, watching the city flash past. “Because I’m tired,” I admit. “I’m tired of holding it all together on my own. I guess I just wanted to feel something other than hurt and alone tonight, even if it only lasted for a moment.”

Silence hangs in the air between us.

“I was jealous,” he says, breaking the tension with the swing of a hammer.

Suddenly, I feel like I can’t breathe. I don’t dare look at him. “What?”

“I knew what you wanted from him. I saw it from the balcony. I saw your face, all lit up by the strobes. You looked like a fallen fucking angel, and I knew what you were chasing…and I was jealous. I almost tripped down the stairs trying to get to you.”

“Why were you jealous?”

“Because take however tired and lonely you feel and multiply it by about twenty-seven years. Add in a dash of abandonment issues and a sprinkling of abuse, and you’ll have some idea of what it feels like to go through your entire life wanting things you can’t have.”

Tears sting the corners of my eyes as I search his face. He’s only showing me the profile. Any more might be too revealing for him. But his words are revealing enough.

“I wasn’t jealous just in that moment,” he goes on. “Jealous is my natural state of being. It comes from having to fight for every single thing you earn, watching while the rest of the world is casually handed things.” He turns, looking me dead in the eye. “That shitty asshole didn’t do a goddamn thing to earn you. He didn’t put in the work. He didn’t have your trust. Hell, you were inching the fuck away from him half the time. But he was going to know what it feels like to be inside you? I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Shouldn’t it be my choice who I sleep with? Not yours?”

“Yeah, well, I’m an imperfect fucking person. But you already knew that.”

From the front seat, the driver awkwardly clears his throat. “Uhh, guys. We’re here.”

I sigh, leaning against the door as we pull up at the valet parking stand of our hotel. As soon as the car stops, I get out. I feel like I can’t breathe. This day was already a disaster. Now this night is shredding me at the seams. Lukas is shredding me. What the heck is he even saying? He wants me? All this time, he’s wanted me? He just knows he can’t have me.

I’m sure there are reasons why that’s true. Good reasons. But for the life of me, in this moment, I can’t remember a single one.

He follows silently behind me into the hotel lobby. The concierge greets us. Otherwise the lobby is empty. It’s late. I don’t see any other Rays, and I’m definitely looking. My heels click as I make my way over to the elevator bank. Lukas follows.

I take a deep breath, readying myself as much for a ride in an elevator as sharing it with this man who keeps hogging all my air with a look and a touch. I press the silver “up” button and the mirrored doors open. The back of the elevator is mirrored too, and I get a full look at Lukas and I together as we step in.

Sweet heavens, he’s so handsome. I mean, I always knew he was, in a rough-around-the-edges sort of way. But now the lumps and scars tell the story of his life—his injuries, his fight to earn his way to the top of his sport. He works so hard. And, like me, he’s tired. And he’s alone too. We’re alone because it’s easier. It stops us from getting let down, getting hurt.

We turn as one, away from our reflections. “I’m on five,” I say, pressing the button.

“Six,” he says from behind me.

I press the number six and the car rattles upwards, the wall panel beeping with each floor we pass. So long as we’re moving, I’m fine. It’s when elevators stop that the panic sets in. I watch the numbers glow and change as every fiber of me feels pulled to the man standing behind me.

We pass the fourth floor, and the words come tumbling out of my mouth. “Lukas, you can have me.”