PUCKED Up

by Helena Hunting

  “We sure are.”

  She strokes the tip with her finger. “What’s with the underwear?”

  “Tryin’ something new.”

  “Hmm. They’re a little inadequate, don’t you think.”

  “You wanna get a better look? Give me your assessment?”

  She sits back on her knees. “Go for it.”

  I drop my shorts. “I think they do a good job of highlighting my business.”

  “They’re way too small. You should take them off.”

  “Maybe you should do that with your teeth.” I tackle her to the bed and she dissolves in a fit of giggles. “I love that sound.”

  Sliding an arm under her, I lift her and army-crawl us to the pillows. The comforter feels like sandpaper on the chemical burns, but everywhere else it’s soft skin against mine, so I’ll live. I kiss her chin before I take her lips again. I could spend hours with my mouth on Sunny’s. Eventually I move to her breasts and devote some attention there. I keep moving south, appreciating the hitch in her breath when I get below her navel.

  I lift the waistband of her panties and take a peek inside, exhaling relief when I see the waxer left the landing strip. I sit up on my knees and pull the thong over her hips. The landing strip is an arrow.

  “Let me guess; Vi put you up to this.”

  She grins. “I thought it would be funny.”

  I slide the fabric down her soft, smooth legs. “I bet you did.” Holding up the material I ask, “And this?”

  “I wanted to try something new, too. It feels like a permanent wedgie, though.”

  “I vote no underwear forever and only dresses; then I can have cookie snacks whenever I want.”

  “Best idea ever.”

  I spread her thighs and lower my head. “We’re gonna have so much fun this weekend.”

  Sex with Sunny isn’t crazy or loud, but it’s fun and bendy and about more than just a trip to Orgasmia.

  Later we have a shower and order takeout. I don’t bother putting clothes on, because screw that. Also, it’s a lot easier to have spontaneous sex when we’re already naked. Which is exactly what we do, several times.

  I think Sunny’s passed out on my chest after I put on a movie, but she surprises me when she lifts her head. “Can I stay here tonight?”

  “You can stay here all weekend. The right side of my bed is yours whenever you want to use it.” I kiss the top of her head.

  “Speaking of bed, I’d like to go there now.”

  “You tired, sweets? You wanna go to sleep?”

  “No. I want you to love me.”

  “You’re not tired of being loved yet?”

  She touches her lips to mine. “Never.”

  EPILOGUE

  WALKING ON SUNSHINE

  Three Weeks Later

  I scan the packed arena, satisfaction and pride making me feel invincible. We’re up two-one against Waters’ team. He’s pissed. It’s awesome. The game’s supposed to be for fun, but you can’t pit a bunch of professional hockey players against each other and expect them to ignore their competitive edge. With only three minutes left it’s unlikely Waters team will make a comeback. Unlikely, but not impossible.

  Waters and Randy face off against each other. He’s going to give Waters a run for his money this season. He’s fast and aggressive on the ice. The only thing Waters has over him are experience and all those years of figure skating.

  Michael’s on the bench beside me, bouncing with excitement. There’s a check for fifty thousand dollars ready to be handed over at the end of the game. Things are looking up for him. Chemo and radiation, while shitty, are proving effective. If things keep going the way they are, he’ll have surgery before the holidays. The prognosis is positive, which is good, ’cause I’ve gotten attached to that kid, and so has Sunny.

  She stands behind me with her hands on my shoulders. The contact is as welcome as it is distracting. She’s been fantastic these past few weeks, helping make this whole event come together and spending time with Michael when I can’t. She’s way more organized than I can ever hope to be. We make a good team. A great one, even. I love her more every damn day. It’s terrifyingly awesome.

  My dad stands beside her, his arms crossed over his chest, a small, smug grin tugging the corner of his mouth. The puck drops, and Balls snatches it from Waters, shoulder-checking him out of the way as he flies down the ice. I can’t wait for training to start next week. I’m ready for this season. I’m ready for a lot of things.

  Shift change is coming. Before I get back on the ice to finish off this game I lift my cage and turn to Sunny. She’s wearing a hockey jersey, her cheeks and nose are red from the cold, and her eyes are bright with the same excitement that makes the crowd buzz. I tap my lips with my glove. “I need some luck, Sunny Sunshine.”

  Her smile is soft as she plants a chaste one on my lips. “Kick my brother’s ass. But not literally.”

  I drop my cage, locking it in place, give Michael props, adjust my gloves, and skate out onto the ice, replacing Lance. We knock gloves as we pass, and I zip down the rink toward our goalie.

  I deflect a goal, and Randy scoops up the puck again, shooting off down the ice toward the opposing net. The seconds are counting down. With less than a minute to go, Waters’ team gets control of the puck.

  Waters is on it, barreling down the ice with the grace and speed that helped us win the Cup this year. I position myself so getting to the goalie will be next to impossible. We both know the turn Waters makes is too tight as he aims the puck beyond me. My options are limited—get out of the way and let him score, or try to make the save. I go with option two, even though I know I’m in for a serious hit.

  One second I’m defending my goalie, the next I’m slammed into the boards by two hundred and twenty pounds of Waters. We both scramble, grabbing each others’ jerseys to keep from going down. There’s a whole lot of noise from the crowd. I drop and take Waters with me. My head hits the ice; thankfully the helmet does what it’s supposed to, but the impact still stuns me. I try pushing him off, but he’s heavy, and I don’t have much leverage, ice being slippery and all. Finally he rolls off and gets to his knees.

  “Miller?” Waters drops his glove. For a second I think he’s going to hit me. Then he snaps his fingers in my face. “You all right, man?”

  I give my head a shake. “I’m fine. Just don’t go punching me in the face again.”

  I grab his jersey instead of his hand, and he loses his balance again. A whistle blows, and the buzzer sounds.

  “Stop trying to make out with me and give me your hand, Butterson.”

  I drop a glove and manage to take his outstretched hand this time. “Stop trying to hump me on the ice.”

  He grunts as he pulls me to my feet. Then he laughs and keeps a solid hold on my jersey until I have my balance. “You were supposed to get out of the way so I could score.”

  “Fuck that.” I butt my head against his. “I wanna win more than I want you to like me.”

  He raises my arm in the air, boxer style. “Nice save. Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

  It’s then that I realize stopping the goal won us the game.

  It’s a whirlwind of excitement and activity as players flood the ice. The high is almost as good as when we won the Cup. I skate over to the bench and get Michael out on the ice. We carry him around on our shoulders like he’s the Cup. In a way he is. He’s the reason we all came together for this—and the reason things just keep getting better between me and Sunny.

  She’s waiting for me when I step off the ice, looking adorable in her too-big jersey. There’s local media waiting to interview me. I haven’t prepared a damn thing, and Amber wanted it that way. They can wait, though, because Sunny’s more important. She’s my best everything.

  As soon as I drop my gloves and helmet, she takes my face in her hands. Her nose scrunches. “You’re sweaty.”

  “I’m gonna kiss you anyway.”

  She laughs when I grab h
er around the waist and lay one on her. Cheesy music from the eighties blasts through the speakers about walking on sunshine. The flashing cameras don’t ruin the moment. Not for me, anyway.

  “What is this?” she asks against my mouth.

  “It’s our song now. I thought it was appropriate and way less depressing than You Are My Sunshine. Waters isn’t the only one who can pull off cheesy moves.”

  Her smile is all the best sunrises put together. “I love you.”

  “I love you back.”

  There are no refunds and no exchanges with love. It comes with flaws and imperfections. It’s raw, unfiltered, and sometimes it isn’t easy. But I’ve found the best things in this life are the ones I’ve had to work hardest for. Especially Sunny.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR HELENA HUNTING

  NYT and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

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  OTHER TITLES BY HELENA HUNTING

  PUCKED SERIES

  Pucked (Pucked #1)

  Pucked Up (Pucked #2)

  Pucked Over (Pucked #3, coming January 2016)

  THE CLIPPED WINGS SERIES

  Cupcakes and Ink

  Clipped Wings

  Between the Cracks

  Inked Armor

  Cracks in the Armor

  STANDALONE NOVELS

  The Librarian Principle

  Read on for excerpts from Helena Hunting’s romantic comedy The Librarian Principle and Debra Anastasia’s Fire In The Hole!

  THE LIBRARIAN PRINCIPLE

  1

  Signs & Signals

  Annaliese Harper approached the threshold of the ornate library, a live wire of anxiety and anticipation. In mental preparation, she’d donned her mask of fake composure and steeled herself against the inevitable onslaught of awkward introductions. Still, nervous tension twisted her gut as she checked out the staff of Fullerton Academy of Higher Learning from the safety of the hall.

  Before she could make her move, Liese’s phone chimed in her purse, the volume loud enough to startle her. She whirled from where her colleagues were gathered, muttering a cleaned-up curse. The cavernous hallway had amazing acoustics, judging by the impressive echo of her heels on the marble floor. She glanced over her shoulder, but no one seemed to have noticed the noise.

  She rooted around in her purse and located the device; palming the phone, she muted the volume before it could chime again. Too wound up to head back toward the library straight away, she keyed in her password and clicked on the message. An image appeared on the tiny screen.

  “Oh my God,” Liese snorted. She slapped her palm over her mouth to stop from laughing aloud as she gawked at the photoshopped image. In a perverse gesture of camaraderie, her best friend had sent an interesting picture of Liese’s new boss, the incredibly attractive principal at FAHL, Ryder Whitehall. The face, at least, was his, but based on the substantial endowment hanging a little to the left, the body belonged to a porn star. She couldn’t wait to get home to view the full-screen version in her email.

  “Ms. Harper?” The voice came from behind her.

  She jumped and fumbled with her phone. In a protective, graceless move, she clutched it to her chest for a moment before frantically punching the off button. She shoved it back in her purse and turned to find the principal in question standing mere feet away.

  Her eyes were level with his chest, and his brilliant red tie seemed to function as an arrow, pointing down to where she shouldn’t be looking. Despite herself, Liese took a moment to appreciate the fit of his suit and the way it hugged the long, muscular lines of his body. His shirt had to be tailored with the way it pulled across his chest, highlighting broad shoulders that tapered into a narrow waist. She imagined he must be cut under all those clothes, a thought she knew she shouldn’t ruminate on overly much.

  She looked up; at five-foot-seven Liese wasn’t particularly short, but her principal had a good six inches on her, forcing her to tilt her head back to make eye contact. She made a concerted effort to keep her eyes on his face, lest her gaze wander lower, her mind still stuck on the pornographic image she’d been ogling.

  Not that looking at his face was a problem. His eyes were a vibrant, rather mesmerizing shade of aquamarine, sucking her in. His short, dark hair was neatly styled, and Liese had the inexcusable desire to run her fingers through and mess it up. The straight line of his nose contrasted sharply with the soft, full curve of his lips.

  “Mr. Whitehall, hi, hello.” Liese cringed internally at the high, edgy tenor of her voice.

  Mr. Whitehall leaned in, close enough that she could feel the apocalyptic heat he emitted. “It’s just Ryder unless there are students present, Ms. Harper.” His amused smile should have helped relax her, but it flustered her more. As did his proximity.

  “Right, of course, Ryder.”

  “Nervous?”

  “Unbearably.”

  He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You have nothing to fear. You’ll fit in perfectly here.” He inclined his head in the direction of the library. “If you find it helpful, we can discuss any additional questions after orientation.”

  “That sounds great.” Liese gave him a genuine smile as he guided her down the hall and through the door, his fingertips brushing the back of her arm. The unexpected contact sent a shiver down her spine. He motioned to the right, where a table had been set up. Liese signed the attendance sheet while Ryder bent next to her and located her orientation package.

  Unfamiliar colleagues milled about, many finding a place to sit. Worried about the seating arrangements and not knowing anyone, Liese scanned the room for empty chairs while also scoping out her coworkers. Her unease must have been obvious because Ryder took pity on her and introduced her to several staff members. She tried to pay attention to her colleagues’ names and disciplines rather than fixate on the number of times Ryder touched her arm. She was almost relieved when Harvey Little, the assistant principal, motioned him to the front of the room. Ryder flashed Liese an encouraging smile and joined his second-in-command.

  Dry mouthed, she grabbed a refreshment and set her things down at an empty table. She didn’t like the way Ryder’s touch affected her ability to think straight. The raw attraction that accompanied such benign contact with him caused alarm bells to ring in her head. Having a good-looking boss was one thing; crushing on him was entirely another.

  Liese pretended to be interested in her orientation packet to pass the time. She hated the initial discomfort that accompanied meeting new people. Her goal wasn’t just making friends; she needed to suss out her colleagues. High school teachers, like high school students, could be cliquey. The last thing she wanted was to take up residence beside the chatty teacher who would talk through the entire meeting and made her look bad.

  “Hey, mind if I sit here?”

  Liese looked up to find a tall, lean, well-dressed man with sandy blond hair and brown eyes smiling down at her. He looked safe. “Sure. Go ahead.” She returned the grin and motioned to the empty seats.

  “You must be our new librarian.” He dropped into the chair opposite her and leaned back, stretching his legs out.

  “Um, yeah, that’s me. How’d you know?” She held out her hand. “I’m Liese Harper.”

  “Blake Stone, lone drama teacher.” He leaned forward and shook her hand before reclining in his chair once again. “There were only two new hires this year. The other guy teaches science, and I met him when I was grabbing a coffee,” he said.

  “Oh right. Well, it’s nice to know I’m not the only new person here.” She glanced around the room. No one else looked as out of place as she felt at that particular moment
. Nonetheless, Liese steered the conversation, asking questions about Blake’s program and what it took to run a full production as the sole drama teacher. “It must be a huge time commitment for you,” she prompted.

  “Sure, but I love doing it, and so do the students, so it’s worth it. If you want to help out with this year’s play, let me know. No pressure, though.” He winked and looked over her shoulder, waving enthusiastically.

  Liese turned to see a tall slip of a woman slide into the seat beside her. Her short blond hair was cut into a straight-edged bob, and thick-framed, funky glasses perched on her nose. “Don’t tell me he’s already trying to recruit you to help him with one of his plays. Don’t do it. Blake is a perfectionist pain in the ass. You’d think he was running Broadway or something with his diva attitude.” Authenticity was absent in her warning. She gave Liese a warm smile. “I’m Emily Captain. I teach art and art history.”

  “Liese Harper, the new librarian.” She took Emily’s outstretched hand.

  “Don’t listen to anything this one says.” Blake brushed off Emily’s comment. She retaliated by flicking a paperclip at him. Theirs seemed to be a long-standing friendship.

  Conversation turned to summer holidays and start-up plans for the fall, with more teachers joining the table as it drew closer to nine o’clock.

  Emily flipped through her package and turned it around to Blake. “Have you seen this? They haven’t tried to outlaw it, but they sure are making it a big deal.”

  Highlighted by bright yellow paper was a photocopied article on workplace harassment issues, including a bolded section on inter-collegial dating.

  Blake scoffed. “I bet this is because of that principal in Berks County.”

  “What principal?” Liese asked.

  “The one who got caught having an affair with a teacher,” Emily explained.