Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys 2)

“I mean, I get that, but … this was … it was …”

“It was a margarita-and-taco-induced thrill.”

“Nah, it was more than that. It was …” While he tries to think of a word, our car pulls up.

“This is us.” I pull him into the car and slide through to give him enough room to get in, but as soon as he does, he closes the gap between us.

He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and even though he is an affectionate guy, he’s right. What we did was something else entirely. It wasn’t just a hookup. It wasn’t just friends.

I’m sure tomorrow we’ll have a lot of time to try to figure it out, but right now, I don’t want to. I don’t want to ruin this.

And if a handjob and frotting in a bathroom stall is all I get, then it’s all I get. It’s more than I ever thought I would have with Dex.

He leans in and breathes into my ear. “You know what I want to try next? When I get you home, I want to touch you this time.”

“Jesus fuck,” I hiss.

“What was that?” the Uber driver asks.

“Sorry, that wasn’t directed at you. My frie—uh, husband, is being mean to me.” I’m thankful my place isn’t far because I swear the driver keeps glaring at us in the rearview mirror.

When we pull up to the building, we can’t get out of the car fast enough. In the elevator, we paw at each other. He nips my neck, I grab his ass, and we’re all wandering hands and mouths.

Dex works his way up my neck, his kisses alternating between soft and rough, and by the time his lips find mine, I’m so hungry for him, I don’t want to part to walk to my apartment door.

I fumble with my keys but manage to get the door unlocked, and we don’t stop kissing for a second. My head spins, and if possible, I feel like I’m even more drunk than when I was back at the club, even though we stopped drinking before we got there.

I’m drunk on Dex. On his scent, his body.

My only fear is waking up tomorrow and realizing this is all a dream. A vivid and sexy dream.

But with the simple clearing of a throat from somewhere in my apartment, my dream turns into a nightmare. And that’s how I know this is reality and not some sleep-induced fantasy.

Because there is no way in hell a sexy dream would include having my parents watch me hooking up with my dream guy. They’re standing there in their pajamas, obviously having made themselves at home. Last time they visited me from Seattle, I gave them a spare key to let themselves in and out while I was at practice or away games. I guess they kept it.

They stare at me with the same looks on their faces as the time they found out I crashed the car when I was a teenager.

It’s disappointment and anger all rolled into one.

“Mom? Dad?” I quickly push Dex off me.

“So it’s true, then,” Mom says. “You got married and didn’t even tell us.”

Dad folds his arms. “We thought maybe there was some mistake or it was a rumor, because all of Dex’s stuff is in the guest bedroom. But …”

I swallow hard. I can’t lie to my parents. I just can’t.

So no words pass my lips.

“There’s no room in Tripp’s closet,” Dex says. “I’m keeping my stuff there until he throws out all of his ugly clothes.”

Ugly clothes? Say what?

I turn to him. “They’re designer. But you wouldn’t know a label if it jumped out at you and bit you on your ass.”

“Well, I guess we have a lot to talk about in the morning,” Mom says. “But I’m tired from waiting up for you all night.”

I shudder. “Whoa, flashback from when I was eighteen. That’s creepy.”

Mom and Dad head down the hallway to the second guest bed that Sienna crashes in occasionally, and I turn to Dex.

“Well, that wasn’t awkward as fuck.”

“Not at all. It’s not every day you meet your in-laws with a hard-on after putting fresh hickeys all over their son’s neck.” His fingers trail over my skin, and I gasp.

“You didn’t? Also, what are you talking about? You’ve met my parents countless times.”

“Not as your husband.” He glances to where my parents disappeared. “Do you think … are they going to hate me after this?”

“No. They will love you because they’ve always loved you. Hell, they’ll probably even want to claim you in our divorce.”

Dex winces, and I wonder if this is one of those times it’s too real for him.

I tug on his hand. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.” I lead him to my room, but he stops me outside the door.

“Didn’t we say we weren’t going to share anymore?”