Pucked Love (Pucked, #6)(5)
He’s right. Of course. But what he doesn’t understand is that Charlene is my priority, and making sure the guys keep their mouths shut is more about her than it is about me.
CHARLENE
Well, this certainly didn’t go as planned. I had great intentions when I came here today. Violet is the one who made the suggestion. Well, she didn’t suggest I surround myself with weird sex toys and hang out naked in Darren’s living room. She thought it would be a good idea for me to be here when he arrived home so I could offer to relieve some of his stress. With sex.
I glance around at the sex wheel of fortune. Individually, the toys might not be that shocking—except maybe the dragon dildo, the crotchless black latex bodysuit, and possibly the mask that looks like it belongs to the lizard man or something—okay, maybe it’s a bit more shocking than I originally thought. On a scale of one to ten, I would classify this as an eleventy-billion of epic clusterfuck.
Playoffs begin in a few short days, which is both exciting and stressful. Chicago has had a great season and is in a good position points-wise. But the excitement over making it into the playoffs this year is dampened by the looming expansion draft.
Today they had a team meeting about it, and Darren doesn’t have a no-trade clause like Alex, so he must be worried. I know I am. It doesn’t matter that he’s older than a lot of his teammates; his stats are great—better than they were last year, which puts him at risk. Especially since the owner of the expansion team has been interested in Darren before.
So I came up with an awesome plan to surprise him. Or it would’ve been awesome if he hadn’t brought half his team home with him. I’d wanted to provide all the best distractions for Darren tonight in the form of every single sex toy and apparatus he’s ever seemed remotely interested in. In hindsight, my choices might have been a little over the top.
I clutch the blanket Darren draped around my shoulders and stare at the empty space where his teammates—our friends—stood moments ago. The front door closes with a slam. I jolt and clench below the waist, as if it’s echoed in my clit.
Which it kind of is. Whenever I get anxious, I feel it in my vagina, like my clit is the Grand Central Station for my nervousness. It’s rather inconvenient, and it can be embarrassing. It’s also not a normal reaction to stress. I know this, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I finger the pearls at my throat, their smooth surface strangely calming as I debate whether I should clean up the kinky evidence, or wait for Darren as he requested. Another wave of anxiety slaps me right between the thighs. My eyes roll up, and I exhale a shuddery breath.
I don’t have a chance to make a decision about putting away the sex toys, because the front door opens and closes—much more gently this time. Darren appears at the threshold of the living room a few moments later.
“I didn’t think you’d be by until later,” he says, low and even, despite the dark look he’s wearing.
I swallow thickly as he approaches, my body lighting up like an arcade game. A bead of sweat trickles down my spine and I shiver, clutching the blanket tighter.
“I wanted to surprise you. I thought it would be okay since the guys never come here. I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve already apologized.” He steps over the dragon dick again—it’s ridiculously huge, and not at all useful—and skirts a pale lace teddy until he’s standing in front of me. His rough finger rests gently under my chin, and he tips my head up. His expression is intense, as is typical of Darren. “And you’re certainly a surprise.”
Instinctively, I want to issue yet another apology. My lips part of their own volition, and Darren tilts his head ever so slightly. It feels like a warning. I have to remind myself to breathe. Shadows dance across his face, sharpening the angles and making them more severe. He’s terrifyingly beautiful. Quietly stunning.
He caresses my cheek, the touch so gentle it’s entirely possible I imagine it. “We need to talk about how this changes things.” He holds out his hand. “And I would prefer if you weren’t on your knees for this discussion.”
My panic takes over, and the worst possibilities bubble up in my head. The weight of his words feel like anchors wrapped around my heart. The only thing Darren has ever asked of me is to keep our private life private, and now it isn’t anymore.
I slip my shaking, clammy fingers into his warm palm. I’m stiff from kneeling for so long, and I wobble unsteadily as Darren helps me to my feet.
The uneasiness that’s settled low in my belly flares and claws its way up, twisting through my stomach, into my chest, until it clamps around my throat. My pearls feel too tight and not tight enough.
What have I done? What if he breaks up with me over this?
My lashes wet with each frantic attempt to blink back the tears. All it took was one mistake to unravel two years. I feel as though I’ve tried to build a house of cards on the precipice of a mountain.
“It was an accident.” The words crack like shattering glass.
“I’m aware it was unintentional.” Darren frowns. “Why are you crying?”
“I broke a promise.”
He inclines his head—it’s more acknowledgement than it is agreement. “And what do you think that means?”
I lick my lips, my mouth dry, palms sweaty. “That you’re going to . . .”