Pucked Love (Pucked, #6)(58)

Series three of the playoffs is intense, once again going to game seven, and putting Chicago into the finals. Darren’s stats continue to rise, and with them his anxiety, and his requests for me to stay at his place. I can’t and don’t want to say no, but I worry, more than I let on, about what’s going to happen at the end of the season when the expansion draft finally happens.

I’d like to believe he’s not going to end up on the chopping block, but the truth is, his game keeps improving. Which tells me something incredibly important about Darren. He adapts to his environment and the people in it.

He played only as well as he needed to in order to keep Alex in the limelight. And now he’s playing better to keep his team afloat. As I settle into this new us, I’ve begun to realize this is who he is and how he operates, whether consciously or not. He adjusts himself and his expectations based on someone else’s need.

When his grandparents took away his privacy as a teenager, he found ways to adapt—physically, mentally, emotionally. In his career, he always puts his team’s needs in front of his own, and I believe, in a lot of ways, he does the same with me.

I’m the reason our relationship never progressed. I’m the reason we’ve stayed the same all this time. Whatever I wanted, Darren gave me. He never tried to open the doors I kept locked. Until recently.

He’s always very careful and calculated in the way he manages me. Us. Except now we’re transforming, and I don’t know how to stop it—or if I can, or if I even want to.

Chicago wins the first two home games of the finals, but loses the first away game in Tampa. I worry this will be another seven-game series, making their off season that much shorter, when they could use the extra time to recuperate. I’m relieved when they win the second away game by one goal, and even more relieved when it’s Alex who scores it, and Randy who handles the assist.

I’m already at Darren’s place when he arrives home. For the first time in a long while, he picks out lingerie. I’m unsurprised when he chooses to dress me in lavender satin and lace. But when he opens the I thought it would be fun but I changed my mind toy box, my nervousness immediately skyrockets.

“What are you doing?”

It takes a few seconds before he finally shifts his attention away from the contents of the box. “Looking for something.”

His expression is flat. I don’t know how to read him tonight, and that nervous feeling drops low in my tummy and settles between my thighs.

He stops what he’s doing and crosses to where I’m standing in the middle of the doorway. He caresses my cheek and bends to press his lips to my forehead. “Wait for me on the bed, please.”

I search his face, but all I get is the tiniest hint of a smile before he turns me around, pats me on the butt, and sends me out of the closet.

I sit on the edge of the bed, nervously toying with my pearl necklace. Several minutes pass, or at least that’s how long it feels, before he finally appears, carrying an armload of toys.

I swallow hard as I take in the items he’s chosen, and the heaviness between my thighs expands with each toy he carefully places along the end of the bed on either side of me. I recognize several of them as items I’d foolishly surrounded myself with when his teammates walked in on me.

Darren comes to stand in front of me. I look up—taking in his dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons undone—until I reach his face.

He stares, unblinking as he taps my knee. “Open, please.”

He tips his head to the side, eyes roaming over my body, pausing between my legs where everything is already tight and pulsing. He reaches out and skims my jaw, making every single muscle in my body clench and quiver.

“Are you nervous, firefly?”

“Yes.”

He exhales slowly and runs his fingers up the inside of my thigh. I suck in a shallow breath when he slips one under the edge of my panties. If I wasn’t wearing lingerie, I’m sure I’d be leaking all over his comforter.

I bite back a moan and eye the items on the bed.

“Tell me why,” he whispers, voice low with gravel.

“You know why.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I do.”

I look at the ball gag on the right and then that creepy facemask with only a mouth hole on the left.

“Darren,” I moan when he circles my clit.

“Why do we still have all of this if we’re never going to use it?”

I’m not sure why he wants to have this conversation right now. I expected him to walk in the door and get me naked on my reading chair, as has been typical recently.

“Does that mean you want to use it?” I ask.

I have to admit, as unnerving as it’s been to have Darren focused solely on me and not any of the stuff I usually bring into our sex games, I actually love sex without all the distractions. I thought maybe he did, too.

He withdraws his fingers, trailing them down the inside of my thigh, leaving a streak of wetness that makes me blush as he sinks to his knees front of me. “I’d like you to answer my question before you pose one of your own.”

I don’t know what’s happening here. Or how I’m supposed to answer that because the truth is at odds with my actions over the past two years.

“I thought maybe one day I’d change my mind.”