Page 161 of Pucking Wild

The sound of my alarm wakes me, and my eyes flutter open to see Ryan stretched out naked on my bed. He’s on his stomach, his head buried under the pillow. A stream of sunlight peeks through a crack in the curtains, shining across his back, giving his tanned skin a golden glow. The sheet barely covers his perky hockey butt.

I can’t help but smile. He’s finally ditched the clunky knee brace for sleeping, so now he can stretch out on the bed like the puppy he is, all arms and legs. He looks so peaceful.

It’s Saturday. Game day for Ryan. Gala prep day for me.

Last night was a dream. After our epic fuzzy handcuff sex, we showered. Then Ryan made us margaritas and I made us dinner and we sat out on the patio by the fire table. We laughed and talked for hours, eventually stumbling our way back into bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Now I’m awake and he’s still here. A beautiful, thoughtful, very naked boy is in my bed. Trying not to disturb him, I inch towards the side of the bed. As soon as I flip the sheet back, his hand darts out and wraps around my wrist. He muffles something I don’t hear.

“What’s that, puppy?” I tease.

Pulling on my wrist, he rolls to his side and peeks his head out from under the pillow. He blinks in the bright light, his tousled blond hair a mess. “I said, where do you think you’re going?”

I laugh as he pulls me down, wrapping his arms and legs around me like a giant squid, burying his face at my neck and peppering me with kisses.

“I have to get up,” I say after a minute. “I have a ton of stuff to do today.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” he replies, his hands roaming as he wakes my body up. He cups my breast, teasing my nipple until I’m arching into him. I turn and he lets me, wiggling against him until we’re a pair of spoons. He flicks my hair back, exposing my shoulder, his warm lips teasing my skin as his hands roam, lovingly touching me all over, memorizing my shape.

After a minute or two, I heave a frustrated sigh. I don’t want him to stop. I want to lay in this bed with him in our pink bubble of happiness and never leave. But there are still jobs to do. For both of us.

“It’s stuff for the gala,” I say. “And if I’m losing tonight to go to your game, then it’s now or never.”

He sighs, going still behind me, his erection pressing against my hip. “I don’t want you to leave this bed,” he admits, saying out loud what I’m feeling. “It feels too soon.”

“It’s after 8:00 a.m.,” I tease, but I know exactly what he means. It’s too soon for us to separate. This thing between us is too fragile. We can only nurture it if we’re together, laughing and fucking and ignoring the rest of the world.

“Tell me you feel this too,” he says, his hand brushing a curl off my shoulder.

I shift in his arms, spinning around until our legs entangle and I’m facing him, peering into the apple green of his eyes, framed by dark golden lashes. I brush my fingers down the rigid bone of his sternum. “You know I do. Didn’t we settle that the other night? Magnets, you called us.”

He nods. “This feels like physics to me, not biology. You pulled me in that day on the beach. I tried to avoid it at first, tried to pretend it was just infatuation or lust. Even when you were in Cincinnati, I could feel it. You know, I asked Doc about you?”

I smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, I was so lame,” he says with a laugh. “She saw right through me. She told me about your love ofSons of Anarchy.”

I gasp. “She did not.”

“She did,” he says with a smirk. “I think she was trying to warn me away, though. I think she thinks I’m not badass enough for you. She thinks I’ll bore you and you’ll move on.”

“Puppy, you are anything but boring,” I reply, making a mental note to tit punch Rachel when I see her.

He smirks, satisfied with my answer. “I still don’t know what the hell you’re doing with me. I think part of me thought I’d wake, and you’d be gone again. You keep doing that, you know,” he adds with an accusing look.

“Doing what?”

“Slipping away,” he replies. “Even when you just fall asleep in my bed watching TV, I always wake up to find you gone. You like to leave first, don’t you?”

My heart flutters as I take in his full meaning. He’s not just talking about slipping out in the morning. “It’s my bullshit, self-destructive way of avoiding getting hurt,” I admit.

“And does it work?”

A quiet moment stretches between us as he just waits, his gaze slowly tracing the lines of my face. It’s like he knows what I was thinking about as I was lying here watching him sleep. “Sometimes,” I reply. “But usually, it only works when I was never really interested to begin with.”

“And now?” His thumb brushes over my lips. “Shelby says you’re gonna break my heart…are you?”

“When did she say that?” I whisper.

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