Puck Me Baby

by Lili Valente

  It’s Alexi, looking bigger, badder, and less like someone you would want to mess with in a dark alley than ever.

  “You don’t touch her again,” he warns in a menacing voice. “Ever again. Do you understand me?”

  “Ye-yeah. I get it,” the kid stammers, pitch rising as he adds in a whine, “Now put me down, man. Put me the fuck down.”

  “With pleasure.” With a sharp jerk, Alexi hurls the kid at his friend. The skinny urchin flies through the air, arms pin-wheeling, smacking the bigger boy in the face as they collide and go down hard on the sidewalk in front of Norquist. But they’re both up a second later, hitching up their too-large jeans and sprinting down the street, clearly not interested in sticking around to mess with someone their own size.

  Or rather, twice their size. Again, I’m struck by how incongruously large Alexi is, like a He-Man action figure plunked down into a My Pretty Pony play set.

  I start to stand, but before I can so much as lay my hands on the concrete, Alexi leans down, wraps an arm around my waist, and lifts me effortlessly to my feet.

  My breath whooshes out as I sway against him, bracing myself on his rock-hard chest, realizing the phrase isn’t hyperbole in his case. The man might actually be made of granite.

  Or marble.

  Or curved plates of titanium covered with a thin layer of skin.

  I probe my fingertips into the top of his abdominal muscles, but they don’t give a freaking centimeter. I’m sorely tempted to continue my exploration and determine if the rest of his chest is also pure Man-of-Steel, but I curl my fingers into a fist instead, realizing that openly fondling him isn’t the best way to start a friends-with-shared-parenting-responsibilities relationship.

  “Are you all right?” Alexi’s hands skim over my body from my hips to my shoulders and everywhere in between, making me dizzy all over again.

  I realize he’s just checking to make sure I’m not hurt, but that doesn’t make the experience any less flutter-inducing. My skin burns beneath his touch, insisting it’s time to get out of my coat—and maybe the rest of my clothes while I’m at it. I do my best to look like I’m not on the verge of pulling him back to the ground and making out with his sexy face right in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “I’m fine,” I say with a breathy laugh, determined to put him at ease so he’ll stop touching me before I make a fool of myself. “Totally fine.”

  “You could have been hurt,” he says, his tone taking on an accusing edge.

  “But I wasn’t,” I assure him. “I’m fine and—”

  “The baby could have been hurt,” he cuts in with a scowl. “You could have ended up back in the hospital less than twelve hours after you left it. What the hell were you thinking?”

  My jaw drops.

  “Seriously,” he insists. “I want to know.”

  “I was thinking that a man was being robbed and assaulted!” I jab a finger toward Norquist, but the old man has abandoned his cart with its broken wheel and is already hurrying down the street, glancing fretfully over his shoulder. “Don’t run, Norquist,” I call after him. “Alexi is a friend. He won’t hurt you, I promise! You’re safe with us!”

  But Norquist isn’t buying what I’m selling. Holding his crushed hat tight to his head, he disappears around the corner, thankfully heading in the opposite direction of the boys who attacked him.

  I shake my head with a frustrated sigh. “Shit. Those jerks broke his cart and took the money I gave him for breakfast. He’s going to be starving by the end of the day.”

  “You should have gone inside and called the police.” Alexi’s fingers curl possessively around my hip, making it even harder to think straight.

  “I probably should have,” I admit. “But it happened so fast. Someone was hurting an innocent person, so I tried to stop them. I’m sure you didn’t do a personal safety inventory before you rushed in to the save the day.”

  “I’m bigger than you are.” His hand slides to my lower back, where his fingers do a soothing, kneading thing that would be very nice if he weren’t chastising me like a naughty child. “And I’m not pregnant.”

  “Well, some people have all the luck, I guess,” I offer in a cool voice as I step away, breaking contact with his confusing fingers. “In my next life, I’ll arrange to come back as a dude with big arms and no pesky, vulnerable uterus, but for now I have to work with what I’ve got.”

  His scowl grows even scowlier. “Which clearly doesn’t include common sense.”

  I prop my hands on my hips with a huff and return his glare. “You can insult me all you want, but I’m not going to stop standing up for what I believe in just because I’m relatively small, female, or pregnant. This is my life, and I’m going to live it the way that feels right for me, no matter what you or anyone else has to say about it.”

  “Is that right?” he asks, the muscles in his jaw clenching.

  “That’s right.” I lift my chin, clenching my own jaw for good measure, though I’m pretty sure my cheeks are too chubby for the expression to be intimidating. The eight pounds I’ve gained has all gone to my waistline or my face.

  Alexi glares at me for a long, tense moment while I fight the twin urges to stomp his foot and kiss his grouchy lips. Or maybe kiss his grouchy lips and then stomp his foot if he’s still grouchy after I’ve finished kissing him.

  Before I can do any of these ill-advised things, however, he takes my hand with a nod. “Fine. If you won’t look out for yourself, I’ll do it for you.”

  He starts down the sidewalk to where his truck sits double-parked in the middle of two rows of vehicles, the door open and the engine running, proving he was in one hell of a hurry to save the day.

  The sight takes the edge off my irritation. He really did rush to the rescue. Who knows how bad things might have gotten if he’d arrived a few minutes later? And maybe he’s a little bit right about me needing to look before I leap, especially now that I’m trying to stay alive for two people instead of one.

  “But thank you. I appreciate your help,” I say, but he doesn’t pause or slow his determined pace toward the truck. “I really do.”

  I tug my hand from his, only for him to reclaim it with a swiftness that makes me laugh. “I’m not going to run out into the street.”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I huff. “I’m a grown woman. And I need to get my phone,” I insist in a louder voice when he shows no sign of setting me free. “I dropped it on the sidewalk.”

  “I’ll get your phone once you’re safe in the truck.” He opens the passenger’s door then lifts me into the seat like a toddler who can’t get in a car without assistance from a grown up, which is a sexy display of manliness, but even my hormones are pissed off at this point.

  A scowl claws at my face as I remind Alexi, yet again, “I’m not a child. And I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “In your opinion.” He scoops my phone from the ground and returns to the truck in two long strides, depositing the cell into my lap with an arched brow. “But I’m beginning to question the soundness of your judgment.”

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, volume rising. “Well, join the club. Because until a few minutes ago I thought you were a nice guy, and clearly my judgment was dead wrong about that.”

  He braces his hand on the truck frame, leaning close as he says in a gravelly voice, “I am a nice guy, but I’m also twice your size. What were you thinking going home with me that night?”

  I blink, the question so unexpected all I can do is sputter, “Wh-what?”.

  “Leaving the club with me after a couple of hours of dancing and drinks. Letting me take you to my place, where we were completely alone in a house set so far back from the road that no one would have heard you scream for help.” His voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “I could have done anything I wanted to you.”

  My face goes hot, the flush spreading to annex my breasts, belly, and the suddenly aching place betwee
n my thighs. “As far as I can recall, you did do anything you wanted,” I say in a voice every bit as dangerous as his. “Or was there something on your wish list that we didn’t get to, Mr. Petrov?”

  Lightning flashes in his smoky eyes, and I’m positive he’s going to kiss me. That his lips are going to crash into mine and we’re going to devour each other whole, getting it on in his truck right in front of my apartment building because we can’t wait the five minutes it would take to get up to my place and into bed.

  I’m already imagining how good it will feel to be fucking him instead of fighting with him, when Alexi reaches out, capturing a lock of my still damp hair that’s fallen loose from my bun and curling it around his finger.

  One loop, two, slowly and deliberately taking the strands prisoner, making my blood pump even faster.

  “I have only one thing on my wish list at the moment,” he says. “I want to get you and my baby settled into a living situation that’s safe. Where you won’t have to worry about stepping on a used needle every time you walk out the door, or defending the neighborhood homeless population while you’re pregnant and suffering from fainting spells.”

  “It’s mostly used condoms and tin foil.” I swallow hard, fighting to keep the longing that’s pulsing through my veins from showing in my eyes. It’s bad enough that I want this bossy, grouchy man to take me like an animal in the front seat of his truck. I certainly don’t want to let him know that I’m dying to jump his maddening bones. “I haven’t seen any needles yet.”

  “I’m not joking.” He wraps my hair around his finger again, bringing his palm flush against my face, which he cups with a gentleness that makes my chest feel full of swiftly beating wings. “You’re moving into my pool house. Today. Immediately. I’ll send movers to pick up your things and drop your keys with whatever slum lord is running this dump.”

  My eyes go wide. “I can’t move in with you.”

  “You’re not moving in with me,” he says with that same, infuriating calm. “You’re moving into my pool house. And it isn’t up for discussion. I won’t have you or the baby in danger.”

  “That isn’t your call to make,” I say, a frown burrowing between my eyebrows. “I make my own decisions, Alexi. Even if you were my husband or my boyfriend—which you aren’t—I wouldn’t let you tell me what to do.”

  “So, you choose pride, then?” His thumb brushes back and forth against my cheek, sending conflicting emotions slithering through my anger. “Pride over the safety of yourself and our child?”

  “It’s not pride.” I bite my bottom lip, fighting to stay angry. But it’s not easy with him touching me so gently and gazing at me with those calmly rational, but still oh-so-stormy, eyes.

  “Then what is it, myshka?” he whispers.

  My breath rushes out, the pet name melting me, the way it has from the start, even though I still have no idea what it means. “You don’t play fair.”

  “I’m not playing games.” He urges my chin up, maneuvering me into the perfect position for a kiss, making my lips sizzle and my nipples pull tight, proving my body has zero issues with all this bossing around. In fact, my body is a big fan of the bossing around and would like to take the entire song and dance to the nearest bedroom ASAP. “I was afraid for you this morning. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want to keep you and our baby safe. I know I can do that if you’re staying on my property. So, will you please allow me that comfort? I’m not trying to take away your independence. I’m trying to give us both the freedom that will come from knowing you’re sleeping somewhere safe.”

  I hesitate for a long beat, torn.

  As much as I hate to admit it, I’m pretty sure he’s making sense. But it’s so hard to think straight with him standing so close and smelling so good and touching me like I’m something precious he can’t stand to lose.

  “Please,” he adds softly. “Let me help.”

  Damn it. How can I say no to that? The combo of “please” and that sexy whisper is completely irresistible. “Fine.” I add in as firm a voice as possible, “But we need to lay down some ground rules.”

  His thumb brushes back and forth across my cheek again. “All right.”

  I put my hands on his chest intending to push him away, but I find my fingers aren’t interested in doing that. My body is one big traitorous bundle of lustful, renegade urges, which means ground rule number one has to be: “We keep separate households. No dropping in unannounced or uninvited.”

  He nods. “I will respect your privacy in every way.”

  “And you let me pay rent,” I say, pushing on when he shakes his head. “I insist. I won’t move in unless I get to pay you for the space. I don’t want to take advantage of your generosity or feel like I’m dependent on charity.”

  He frowns, but nods again. “All right. You can pay me what you were paying for this death trap. Not a penny more. Is that all?”

  I blink fast, searching my brain, but my neurons are still soaking in a steamy, reason-muddying hormone bath. “It’s all I can think of for now. But I reserve the right to add conditions as the need arises.”

  “It’s a deal.” His fingers fall from my face, setting the captive lock of hair free as he takes my hand and gives it a binding squeeze. “Now can I buy you breakfast? You look hungry.”

  I bet I do, I think wryly, but food isn’t anywhere near the top of my list of cravings right now.

  Aloud, I say, “Yes, thank you. I’m starving, and breakfast would be lovely.”

  Or it will be another miserable exercise in pretending I’m not recklessly attracted to this difficult, delicious man whose relieved smile is presently beaming sunshine straight into my eyes, blinding me to all the reasons shacking up next door to him is a very, very bad idea.

  Chapter 6

  Petrov

  *

  I’ve never been jealous of a piece of bread, but as Amanda slips her fork between her pretty lips, moaning in appreciation for Aloha Mama’s banana bread French toast, I would give just about anything to be that lucky rectangle of fried dough.

  To be passing Mandy’s lips, rolling against her tongue, slipping inside her mouth, discovering the sweet, sexy-as-fuck taste of her all over again…

  The entire drive across town, while we discussed the logistics of her move to the pool house and argued about who would pay for the movers, I had to fight to keep my attention on our conversation. My thoughts kept veering back to how much I want to kiss this woman, to pull her stubborn mouth to mine and wage sweet war until she surrenders to the sparks trying to burst into flames between us.

  For a moment there, when we were talking by the truck, with my fingers in her hair and her lips so close to mine, I would have sworn she felt it, too—this pull, this inexorable drive to get closer. To get naked and tangled up in each other until we’re so busy coming our brains out we can’t remember why we ever got out of bed in the first place.

  I glance up from my plate, studying her in the autumn light filling the courtyard, cutting through the orange leaves waving overhead on this unusually mild October morning. The sun catches red highlights in her brown hair and caresses her golden skin, making her look like an angel from an Italian fresco.

  She’s so beautiful. It’s hard not to say the words out loud, to tell her she’s the loveliest thing I’ve seen in years. But that, of course, would be ill-advised. The past twenty-four hours—hell, the past few months—have been overwhelming for her. The last thing she needs is more ridiculous shit to deal with, and this crush I’m developing is the definition of “ridiculous shit.” I’m a one-night stand that ended in a stressful, unplanned pregnancy. Mandy didn’t want to date me three months ago when things were chill and uncomplicated, so she sure as hell isn’t interested in more than friendship and co-parenting now.

  So far, in fact, she seems to think I’m a bossy son of a bitch.

  Better a bossy son of a bitch than a liar…

  I push the thought away. I’m not a liar. I’m withholding
a painful, pointless truth. At this point, it’s too late for warnings. Better to spare her the worry for as long as possible. If we’re lucky, it might be forever.

  “We should probably talk long-term things, too,” I say, knocking lightly on the wooden chair beneath me to keep from jinxing our chances of reaching the long-term stage.

  “I guess we should.” Her tongue sweeps across her upper lip as she sets her fork down beside her nearly empty plate, drawing my attention back to her stunning mouth and those plush lips that I would give just about anything to feel wrapped around my cock again. “Though I confess it’s hard to know where to start.”

  “We can start with the basic stuff.” I sit back to accept a coffee refill from the girl hustling by with her metal pot, forcing away images of Mandy on her knees between my legs, sucking my cock with a slow, sexy sweetness that threatened to undo me mere seconds into the best blow job of my life. If I don’t get a fucking grip, I’m going to have a hard-on so intense there will be no hiding it when we stand up to leave.

  After Mandy waves away a refill for herself, I continue, “I’ll cover all the medical expenses, and as soon as the baby’s born, I can get him or her on my insurance. It’s a good plan and should cover everything he or she needs.”

  Amanda nods. “I’ve got insurance, so my expenses won’t be an issue, but it’s good to know you can cover Baby. Just in case I have trouble finding another full-time job with a good family plan. I mean, I’ve got dual citizenship, so I guess I could always go back to Canada where insurance is a given, but I would have to get licensed to practice there, and I don’t have any family up north anymore. My mom moved to the U.S. for work a few years ago, so…”

  “Happy to do it. It will be easier to co-parent without you in a different country.” I smile tightly, torn between anticipation, worry, and regret, a sour emotional cocktail I have a feeling will be increasingly familiar as Mandy’s pregnancy progresses.