Page 54 of Puck Princess

I turn into him, my hands smoothing down his chest. He’s a vision in this soft lighting, the shadows carving him from marble. “Owen Sharpe, you are something else.”

“And you, Callie Coleman, are amazing.” He lowers me onto the couch and settles me into his side. “Now, let’s pretend to watch this movie.”

Ten minutes later, we’re not even pretending.

The movie is playing—though what we are watching, I have no idea—but Owen’s hands are wandering under my dress while he suckles on my neck.

I playfully push him away when his hand creeps high on my thigh. “Someone is going to see us.”

“Like people in airplanes? Callie, there’s no one around. But—” He sighs. “You’re right. We should get a room.” He takes my lower lip between his teeth, stoking a fire directly between my legs. “We need four walls and a ceiling to contain the noises I plan to draw out of you.”

I’m almost delirious with how much I want him. “What about eight walls, a private balcony, and a jacuzzi tub?”

He arches a brow, and I explain, “Miriam got me the suite.”

“God bless Miriam.”

When I thank Miriam for the room, I won’t tell her the ways we defiled the king-sized bed or how sturdy the mini bar is after Owen propped me against it and devoured me as a snack. I also probably won’t mention that the tub is big enough for a big hockey player to be straddled by his girlfriend and ridden to the point they are both so exhausted, they almost drown beneath the bubbles.

But I will forever remember the way it felt to be damp from the tub as Owen spread me across the bed, his eyes embracing mind with every touch and movement. I’ll never forget the way it felt to have him fill me while his fingers tangled with mine above our heads. I’ll remember the way he hovered over my body, his hands curled around my stomach, absolute joy in his eyes while he spoke to our child. And until the day I die, I’ll remember the look of love he had for me and our future together.

18

OWEN

I wake up to Callie nuzzling into me. It’s nothing but skin-to-skin under seven hundred thread count sheets. I yawn and press my lips to her forehead.

The sun is bright through the windows, warming the room and making me wish I never had to get up.

But I bolt up.

“Shit!”

Callie jumps, rubbing her eyes. “What? What’s the matter?”

“The sun is up!” I leap out of bed and nearly fall over trying to pull my underwear on.

“It does tend to do that from time to time. Every day, actually,” she murmurs. Even half asleep she is sarcastic.

“Callie, we didn’t get a wakeup call. It’s 10 am!”

Finally, panic registers on her face. “Shit!” She scrambles to find her own clothes in the mess of disarray from our frantic undressing last night.

Fuck.

“What happened to the wakeup call? You asked the front desk to call my room and wake us up.”

“I guess they didn’t get the memo. But I gotta go.” I struggle to zip my pants up.

Callie comes over, still gloriously naked, and gives me a kiss. “You get to the arena, and I’ll catch a ride.”

“I’ll send for a car.” I kiss her again, wishing more than anything I could stay, and rush out of the room.

My room is two floors down with all of the other guys, but the floor is quiet. They’re all at the arena, so it looks like I’m the only one who missed the wake up call.

I change into practice clothes faster than I ever have, grab my gear, and head to the elevator. During the twenty floor descent, I tap my floor like it might help the elevator along and think about last night.

It was good.So good.

---