Puck Love

by Carmen Jenner

  “I know.” She nods and wraps her arms around me. “Because if it does, you’ll never see me again.”

  I pull her close and press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll never break your heart like that, Stella.” I won’t. I don’t know if my words will convince her of that, but my actions will. She’ll see that I’m not interested in anyone else.

  When we return to the dining room, Torres and Rookie are already chowing down on the food and Lana is guzzling back another glass of wine.

  “Jesus Christ, you carved the turkey?”

  Torres stops with the fork halfway to his lips. “No.”

  “You’re all fucking animals.”

  “Um, Van,” Stella says. “My chef does that for me.”

  “Oh.” I scrub my beard. It’s getting itchy, despite using those expensive-as-fuck oils Eli got me hooked on. I still can’t wait until the season ends and I can shave the goddamn thing off. “Well, would it have killed you bastards to wait?”

  “Sorry,” Rookie says around a mouthful of food and sets his fork down on the plate.

  Eli and Veronica come in from outside, and she glances guiltily around the room. “I’m just going to take off.”

  “No,” Stella says, and everyone in the room—myself included—swivels their head toward her. “Van told me about the two of you. I don’t like it, but I can’t control the fact that he has a past. We all do . . . well, except me, because . . .”

  “You were a virgin until my man Van here, right?” Torres grins around a mouthful of turkey.

  “Um . . .”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I whisper-yell to Torres.

  “You should stay,” Stella says ignoring the question. “No one should be alone on Christmas.”

  “I don’t want to make it any more awkward.”

  “It’s not awkward,” Stella says in a high-pitched voice, and then gives a nervous laugh. “Okay, maybe it’s a little awkward, but it doesn’t need to be.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.” Stella nods. “Sit down. We could all use a drink.”

  Eli pulls a chair out for Ronnie, and I can’t help but notice ballbuster rolls her eyes. “Something wrong, Lana?”

  “No, nothing at all. Just that our quiet Christmas has turned into a meal with savages. What could possibly be wrong?”

  “Lana,” Stella chastises.

  “You know what? I think I need to lie down.”

  Eli grins. “You let me know if you want company, huh?”

  Lana turns to him with a sneer. “Oh, I think you have your hands full already.”

  “Excuse me,” Stella says, as she follows her manager up the stairs.

  “Well, this isn’t awkward at all. Thanks for fucking the holidays royally, Boucher,” I say. Eli just sticks his finger up, and I head to the bar because I need a stiff drink, and I need these assholes gone, yesterday. I pour a whiskey neat and salute the room. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

  I wake to a hot mouth on my cock, lick my lips, and thread my fingers into Stella’s hair, helping to guide her down more of the length of me.

  “Oh fuck, baby. Yeah, just like that,” I say. A murmur escapes her throat, and the sound vibrates around my dick. “Jesus, country. I missed your mouth so goddamn much.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  “Christmas was two days ago.” Her mouth bobs on my cock, and I grip her hair harder. “But I love how generous you are with gift-giving.”

  She makes another noise, a chuckle maybe, and her pace quickens. I have to keep from thrusting my hips, because I want so badly just to let loose and fuck the back of her throat, but I don’t want to hurt her. I should put a stop to this. I should flip her onto her back and make her come first, but she pumps her hand around my cock in time with her mouth and I blow my load with a fucking stealth-attack orgasm. Christ. What the hell does this woman do to me?

  Stella releases me and crawls up the bed, cuddling into my side. I’m blissed out and sleepy, and I wrap my arm around her and hold her close. I like her bed, but I wish we were at the cabin, hidden away from the rest of the world. Last night, we soaked in her tub. It was barely big enough for the two of us, but it didn’t stop me from making her come. Still, I want to do her in my hot tub, my bed, my kitchen, and every other damn surface in my house. She’s more likely to walk around naked there too, because there’s less chance of some paparazzi asshole sneaking around the property for the perfect shot . . . though, I guess that’s maybe not so true anymore. I may have to build a big fuck-off privacy fence around my house now that the bastards have scoped it out thoroughly.

  Fuck. I’m not even gone yet and I miss her already. Stella’s heading out on tour again soon, and I’ll be . . . god knows where, playing the game that I love and missing my woman like crazy.

  Downstairs, a door opens, and I flinch because I wasn’t expecting that. “Is that your cleaner?”

  Stella fumbles around on the nightstand and turns the alarm clock to face us. “Oh shit. I’m supposed to be on Nashville Mornings in an hour.”

  “What?”

  “Get up. You have to get up.”

  “Babe, who’s here?”

  Just then, the ballbuster’s voice comes from the stairs. “Stella, please don’t tell me you’re still sleeping?”

  “Stall her,” Stella says, kissing me and darting naked across the room to the bathroom where she runs the shower.

  The bedroom door is wide open, and I’m on my feet, searching for my clothes, sporting a semi when the ballbuster walks in.

  She throws her hands up to cover her eyes. “Oh, god.”

  I cover my junk, but I’m a little larger than most, and my hands don’t really hide all that much. “Just Van, actually.”

  Lana lowers her hands and stares at me for a long time. A lot longer than I’m comfortable with. “The photos don’t do you justice. Must have been all that Canadian snow, huh?”

  I haven’t a single clue what to say to this woman, so I just shrug and fumble behind me for a cushion to cover my junk. Then I remember a few choice words of my own now that I have her alone. “It was your idea, wasn’t it? For Stella to stay away from me?”

  “It wasn’t personal.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “Well, maybe it was personal. I was trying to protect her.”

  “What happened? You get your heart broken by a hockey player?”

  One brow arches just a fraction, and for a beat I see the pain behind her eyes. “Football, actually.”

  “And you think I’m going to play her?” I narrow my gaze. “I’m not. I have no intention of ever hurting Stella again.”

  “We’ll see. For now, it doesn’t seem like she’s listening to my advice anyway, so I guess it’s all in vain.”

  I cock my head to the side and shoot her a questioning glance. “Maybe your advice isn’t so sage.”

  Her lips twist up into a grin and I can tell she doesn’t want to, but she lets out a dark chuckle. “Maybe. At any rate, she’s late for an interview that’s supposed to repair some of the damage that you two caused, so I’m not sure you’re off to a good start.”

  “She’ll be there.”

  “I’ll wait downstairs.” She walks to the door and I salute her as she pulls it closed, and then I flop down on the bed. I guess Lana’s desire to keep me from Stella makes a little more sense now, but that doesn’t mean I forgive her. Not all athletes are tarred with the same brush.

  A beat later, Stella comes out of the bathroom wrapped only in a towel. I fold my arms behind my head and admire the view. She meets my gaze and grins, and then she drops the towel, and all the promises I just made to her manager fly out of the window because my cock goes from flaccid to hard in all of three seconds as Stella straddles my hips.

  “You’re late,” I whisper.

  “I don’t care.”

  I laugh. “I just told the ballbuster I’d have you there on time. She’s waiting downstairs.”

  Stella coc
ks her head. I listen, too. The ballbuster appears to be on the phone, involved in a heavy conversation, if her suffer-no-fools tone of voice is anything to go by. “She’ll be another ten minutes.”

  “I can work with ten minutes.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Stella is on orgasm four and I’m enjoying her mouth as she finishes me off when the ballbuster knocks on the door. “Stella, your ass needs to be in the car on the way to the studio five minutes ago.”

  “Coming.” She chuckles, removing my cock from her mouth.

  “No, but I am. Suck it, baby,” I whisper as I thread my hands in her hair and guide her back to my dick. Seconds later, she’s swallowing down my come as Lana pounds on the door. Fucking killjoy.

  It takes me a beat to get my bearings after that amazing blow job, but in less than two minutes, Stella dresses in jeans, a tank and heels. She looks just as fuckable in this outfit as she did naked, which pisses me off because I’m all too keenly aware that I’m not the only man who’s going to be looking at her.

  “I don’t like this outfit,” I mutter, more to myself than to her as she’s putting on a pair of earrings.

  “Er . . . thanks, Van.”

  “No, I mean, I don’t like you wearing this outfit outside this room.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

  “What’s right with it? I can see your tits, your ass, every fucking curve that I just had my hands and mouth all over, and if I’m looking, so is every other goddamn man on the planet.

  “Well, I won’t be wearing this on camera, so I think most eyes are safe for now.”

  “What about all the people between here and the studio?”

  “Van, no one is looking at my . . . tits.”

  I shake my head. “I am.”

  “You’re allowed to.”

  “Men are gonna look, country. How could they not when you’re the living embodiment of every American teenage boy’s wet dream?” I say, jumping out of bed and searching for my jeans. I’m pretty sure I left them downstairs. “And are we sure the ballbuster isn’t a lesbian?”

  Stella rolls her eyes. “Yeah, pretty sure she has a thing for your teammate.”

  My brows shoot skyward. “Really?”

  “Uh-huh,” she says. “There was something weird going on between them that night you almost got arrested for breaking into my house.”

  Interesting. I hadn’t noticed the tension between them at lunch, but then she was pretty drunk and did wander up to one of Stella’s spare rooms to sleep it off before driving home. I’ll have to make sure Eli and the ballbuster spend a little more time together. It’ll be his payback for bringing a puck fuck to Christmas lunch.

  I pull my girl up against me. I need to grab a quick shower, but I want to smell like Stella. I’m not sure my teammates will appreciate that through the five-hour-long flight to Arizona this afternoon though, so I kiss her hard and deep and then I walk away before my dick can get any more excited by this infuriatingly fucking beautiful woman. “Make me some coffee?”

  “Make your own damn coffee.” She frowns, moving toward the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen, but I don’t think I can stall Lana much longer.”

  I speed through a shower, and when I go downstairs dressed only in a towel because my clothes are strewn all over Stella’s lounge, the ballbuster gives me a thorough onceover and then clears her throat. “Breakfast usually isn’t a clothing-optional occasion.”

  “Damn, really? Nudity is compulsory at my house.”

  Stella laughs. “God, that accent is so damn cute.”

  I frown. “It’s not cute. Nothing about me is cute, Country.”

  “Sure, it is.”

  “Oh, I agree. Your ass when you turned around earlier? Well, that was totally cute,” the ballbuster says between sips of coffee. Or maybe it’s the blood of newborn babies. Either way, it’s not improving her mood. “I bet if you lost that towel right now, your little pecker would be completely adorable.”

  Stella laughs, and I shoot her a look that says she better shut up fast because no one ever kids about my cock. “It’s not funny.”

  She laughs harder.

  “Stella, tell her.”

  “I . . . I . . .” Her words are broken by more laughter and I see red, and then I grin, because all that laughter is making her boobs jiggle up and down and my cock is getting hard just thinking about it.

  “You know what, country? It’s just fine. I’m sure Lana wouldn’t mind another preview.” I grab the corner of my towel and untuck it from my waist.

  “No!” Stella yells, diving for me, but she’s too late. I let go. The towel pools at my feet and I look down at my cock and then back at Stella’s angry face. I chuckle, because if you play with fire you’re gonna get burned.

  “Oh, we need to . . . long,” the ballbuster says, her eyes widening as she shakes her head. “LEAVE! We need to leave. Now.”

  “That isn’t funny, Van,” Stella snaps.

  “Really, country? Because you seemed to be laughing just a few short minutes ago.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry I laughed. I won’t do that again, but you need to not show your penis to strange women.”

  “I should imagine that’s something of an occupational hazard for a hockey player, isn’t it?” ballzilla says, and it’s my turn to shoot her a dirty look.

  “No, usually just my teammates. Say, speaking of teammates, you met Eli, right? Word is he too is hung like a horse, though I try not to look. It seems kinda gay.”

  Her throat bobs. Gotcha. “Well, I’m sure that’s very nice for him.”

  “I could invite him around if you like? We don’t fly out till midday. The four of us could maybe grab a little lunch at the airport?”

  “No!” Lana’s eyes are wide with panic. I grin, but she doesn’t meet my gaze as she straightens her jacket and smooths down her lapel.

  Stella has finished wrapping the towel around my waist, and I grab her hand and slide it over my covered junk. It’s completely hard now, and her cheeks pink up while her mouth opens in shock. I waggle my brows at her, and she steps back as if she’s expecting to be ensnared in a spider’s web. “I, um, we have to go.”

  “Okay, great. I’ll get my pants on.”

  “You’re coming?” She looks pleasantly surprised.

  “What? You’d rather keep me your dirty little secret? That’s not how this works, Stella.”

  “No, absolutely not. I forbid it,” the ballbuster says, and Stella and I both turn to glare at her.

  Stella turns her attention back to me. “I don’t want to keep you a secret, but you know the second we step out in public together, that’s it. The paparazzi will be dogging us twenty-four/seven. I know you’re kind of used to the media but this . . . this is—”

  “Babe,” I say, cupping her face in my hands. “I know.”

  She sighs and exhales a loud breath. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I agree and kiss her. I don’t care that her manager is glaring at us, or that she’s late. All I care about is her lips on mine while we have the time. I know it isn’t going to be easy being away from her, not after I finally got her to admit she can’t be without me anymore than I can be without her, but nothing can come between us now. Even if I have to trade teams, leave Canada, and my friends and family behind, we’d find a way to make it work.

  At the studio, I pull a ball cap down on my head and make out like I’m invisible. Unfortunately, being six-foot-two and two hundred pounds draws a lot of attention.

  Ballbuster waits in the wings with me as we watch Stella film. She’s fucking incredible in a skin-tight mini dress with long sleeves. There are some beads and other decretive shit on it, and from the second she stepped out of the green room I’ve been having trouble hiding my damn boner.

  The camera has been rolling for all of about five minutes when the host leers at her and says, “Let’s talk about your love life, and your ties to Calgary’s NHL center, Van Ross.”

  I want to punch him in the face. No
body looks at my woman that way but me.

  An image of me decked out in my gear on the ice flashes up, and then that photo of my naked pixelated ass as I punch the paparazzo in the face fills the screen. Stella glances behind her at the image and freezes.

  The host continues. “Can you explain how the two of you met, and just how this shot came to be?”

  “Er, that’s not—”

  “Oh, I know we’re not supposed to talk about it, but the whole world is waiting to find out what is going on with you and Canada’s hottest hockey hunk.”

  “Van is . . . um.” Her gaze shoots to us, most likely to the ballbuster for clarification. Lana shakes her head. The monitor in front of me shows a pale Stella, and judging by her wide eyes and the way she’s holding her breath, I’d be willing to bet she’s staving off a panic attack right now. I take a step forward.

  “Van is what, Stella?”

  “Van is . . . er . . . that is to say he’s—”

  “Right here,” I shout, and everyone on set turns to look at me. Ballbuster curses under her breath and steps forward, but I’m an athlete, so it takes me about seven good strides to hit the stage. The host looks shocked out of his mind, and Stella, too, stares at me with her mouth hanging open until she plasters the smile back on her face. I offer my hand to the host and he shakes it, introducing himself as Adam Kennedy. I sit down next to my girl who’s still looking like she might run.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Van Ross.”

  “Hi.” I wave to the camera, and then I lean in and kiss Stella’s cheek. “You’ll have to excuse my face. I haven’t had time to put my makeup on.” Several people around the studio chuckle, and I really ham it up by winking at the camera.

  “Well this is a surprise,” Adam says.

  “Yes, it is.” Stella shoots me a stern glance, and I can’t help but grin.

  “Sorry for crashing your interview. I just figured we may as well come clean. Stella and I are a thing, so the sooner everyone gets used to it, the better.”

  “And how long have you been a thing?”

  “Since the day she drove into the side of my mountain. Of course, she didn’t know it until I showed up on her doorstep two days before Christmas.”