Pucked Love (Pucked, #6)(44)
In addition to those, there’s a black gift bag tied with a bow. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to open that now or wait, so I leave it and pick a pair of leggings, a shirt, and a pair of panties to change into. They’re freshly washed, as evidenced by the distinct smell of Darren’s fabric softener.
I head back downstairs to wait for him and find yet another surprise in the living room. Set up on the table beside the reading chair he bought for me is a bucket with a bottle of white wine chilling and a glass waiting to be filled. Several books are stacked on the seat of the chair, their spines creased from my excessive reading and pages folded over. Sometimes, when I love a book I’ll earmark certain chapters or passages so I can find them easily and read them over.
Darren must have scooped them from my nightstand and brought them here for me. I press my fingers to my lips, my chest light and heavy at the same time. His attentiveness is endearing, and while part of me loves it, the other part worries about what it means. So many things are changing, and I don’t know quite how to handle it. The neat lines we’d drawn seem to be erasing themselves, and I don’t know how to do this without them. It makes me feel unsteady.
With shaking hands, I pull the cork free and pour myself a glass of wine. I take a small sip and moan. This is way better than that boxed stuff my mom brought with her. I actually considered tossing the rest of it, but figured it was too much of a waste, so I mixed it with ginger ale and juice. Then it wasn’t so bad.
I grab my phone and my ear buds, because I might as well enjoy the lengths Darren has gone to for me.
Moving the books to the table, I relax into the chair, cover myself with the throw, and sigh contentedly. On the next inhale, I note the faint scent of Darren’s cologne clinging to the fabric. I turn my head and press my nose against the backrest. I’m not sure if I’m imagining things, but I swear it smells like his shampoo, which means he’s been using the chair when I’m not here.
I slip in my ear buds, pick a playlist, and settle in with a book, flipping to one of my many favorite chapters. I like to read romance, maybe because my childhood was such a mess and the kind of relationships I witnessed weren’t normal. I like the smutty ones as much as the sweet ones, but my favorite stories have the most broken characters. Even though it’s fiction, it gives me hope that even the most messed up people can find someone to love them.
I’m on my second glass of wine, rereading my second favorite chapter when a shadow passes over my book. I startle as I look up to find Darren standing in front of me, and I nearly douse myself in wine.
He grabs the glass before I dump it in my lap, a wry smile forming as he tugs my ear buds free.
“I didn’t hear you come in.” I look him over. He’s wearing black jeans, and a T-shirt that hugs his biceps and stretches tight across his chest.
“I gathered that from your reaction. You look cozy.” He takes a sip from my glass.
“So cozy.” I close my book and set it on the table.
“Can I see which ones you picked?” He tugs at the end of the blanket so it slips down a few inches.
“You went a little overboard, but thank you.” I pull the throw off, and Darren’s grin widens.
I grip the arms of the chair to push myself up.
He raises a hand. “No, no. Stay right here.”
“Okay?” I draw the word out as I drop back down.
He drags a finger from my ankle to my knee. “This is nice—you right here, looking like it’s where you belong.”
I shift over and pat the seat cushion. “Why don’t you join me? There’s plenty of room.” The chair is huge, and round. There’s more than enough room for two bodies, even if one of them belongs to a huge hockey player.
“Let me get a glass.”
“Or we could share mine?”
“We could definitely do that.” He adjusts my legs so they’re draped over his and stretches one arm across the back. Sliding his palm up my thigh, he runs his nose along my neck and follows with his lips. “I like you being here when I get home.”
I laugh and then sigh as his lips trail along the edge of my jaw and across my cheek. When he reaches the corner of my mouth I turn toward him, our lips brushing.
His rough fingers glide gently up my arm and thread into the hair at the nape of my neck. The kiss starts slow, the warm soft drag of his tongue becoming a sweet tangle. I have no idea how long we kiss, but eventually Darren pulls back, his thumb sweeping back and forth across my bottom lip, his breath coming hard.
“How was your day?” he grinds out.
I laugh and twist in his grip so I can straddle his thighs. “Long.” Knowing he was back in Chicago but having to wait to see him made the day pass more slowly than usual.
“Same.” He settles his palms on my hips. “But this makes it worth it.”
“Making out in my reading chair?” I reach for the glass of wine and take a sip.
“Just you being here period. But the making out is nice too.” He watches as I take another sip. “I’d like some of that.”
I raise the glass, expecting him to take it, but he doesn’t. Instead he parts his lips and cocks one sinister eyebrow.
“I might spill it on you,” I warn.
“It’s white. I’ll take the risk.”
I tip the glass up until the wine reaches the edge, wetting his lips. My tongue is caught between my teeth, my smile wide as I lift the tiniest bit too high and it trickles out of the edge of the glass and down his chin.