Pucked Love (Pucked, #6)(62)



Before I can yell at him for ruining my hair and the only outfit I brought with me, he grips the back of my neck and locks our mouths together. Someone whistles, and I’m pretty sure Randy tells us to get a room.

“You’re a jerk,” I mumble around his tongue.

He laughs and swims me to the shallow end. “I’m your jerk.”

“You could’ve waited until I was wearing a bathing suit! I don’t even have a change of clothes.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you more than covered.” He grabs a towel from the edge of the pool. “Want some help changing out of your wet clothes?”

“From you? Nope.” I push on his chest, biting back a grin as I climb out and wrap myself in the towel.

“We’ll get him back for you later, Char,” Miller calls after me.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I’m more than capable of making him pay for his transgressions, and I’m sure my punishment will be far worse than anything any of you can dream up.” I arch a brow at Darren and grab my bag, smiling at the chorus of laughter that follows me into the pool house.

Darren and I both know any kind of “punishment” I’ll be doling out will be of the teasing variety, but they don’t need to know that, and sometimes it’s fun to keep them guessing.

It’s a hot day in late May, and the air conditioning is on in the pool house. Goose bumps flash over my skin as I pad across the cold tile floor to the bathroom. On the counter is a yellow gift bag tied with a bow. My name is written on the little card in Darren’s neat cursive.

Before I open the gift, I strip out of my clothes and wrap myself in the towel. I pull the satin ribbon, wondering if the whole dragging-me-into-the-pool business was an orchestrated move. I assume so. Darren doesn’t do anything without plan or purpose. I remove the tissue paper, noting the firefly print.

Inside is a small package wrapped in more tissue paper; this time lavender. I pluck at it from the back and gently tear the paper.

A soft knock is followed by the twist of the doorknob. “Charlene?” I’m unsurprised that Darren has followed me. I’m curious as to what his plan is—whether it’s going to be a delayed-gratification day, or the kind where we sneak off and satisfy our cravings for each other in short bursts of need and want. I’m banking on the latter since it’s my birthday, and I should be able to call all the shots.

I clear my throat, my body already warming. “I’m getting changed.”

“I came to assist with that.”

I bite back a smile as I open the door and peek through the gap. Darren grips the doorjamb, eyes moving down my neck to where my pearls lie, then dipping lower to where I clutch the towel.

“What if I don’t want your assistance?”

“I can just watch if you’d prefer.” His smile is full of dirty promises as he pushes on the door, and I step back, allowing him in. He closes it and flips the lock. “It’s your birthday. Whatever you want, you get.”

“Whatever I want?” I tap my lips. “Hmm. You know, I’ve been looking at those new Teslas. I think I’d look pretty great in the driver’s seat.”

“We can go car shopping later.”

“Haha.”

I’m clearly joking. It’s a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car. I would actually be terrified to drive it. Darren is quite sensible about his purchases. He has two vehicles—an SUV and a sweet sports car—neither of which cost an excessive amount of money. It’s one of the many things I appreciate about him. His most frivolous purchases are usually lingerie related, or at least they were until a couple of months ago when he discovered his love of cotton panties that retail at five dollars a pair.

I turn back to the lavender tissue paper so I can finish unwrapping what I suspect is the first of many gifts. I find a brand new bikini in a soft, pale purple—one I’ve looked at more than once over the past month or so.

“This one is as much for me as it is for you, hence the color.” He drops his head, lips finding my shoulder. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like my assistance?”

“Everyone is going to know what’s going on in here.” I point out as he kisses up the side of my neck.

“I don’t mind if they know I’m apologizing for throwing you in the pool.” He untucks the edge of the towel, and it falls to the floor.

“Is that what you’re doing? Apologizing?”

He skims the curves of my hips, making fresh goose bumps flash over my skin again. “You mentioned something about a punishment. I thought it might be a good idea to get that over with now.” His lips lift against my cheek.

“You’re welcome to serve your penance on your knees.”

His mouth touches mine for the briefest moment before he drops to the bathmat.

Lifting me onto the vanity, he hooks my legs over his shoulders and shows me exactly how sorry he is with his mouth, and then again when he gets inside me.

It’s a good half hour before we come out of the pool house. I’d be embarrassed, but this happens quite regularly with my group of friends—although usually it’s Randy and Lily who make use of the various bathrooms. Hockey players have high sex drives, and watching their girlfriends or wives wander around in bikinis gets them excited. There are worse problems to have.

Lily passes me a glass of champagne as soon as I settle myself in one of the loungers.

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