Page 20 of Pucking Christmas Triplets Surprise

“Okay, Mr. Mixologist,” I say, tapping the rim of my empty shot glass. “That drink was great, but I know something that tastes even better."

Milo finishes his drink, and shifts over to look at me. His dark brown eyes shine as he looks at me. "What?"

"Me." I grab the collar of his shirt and pull his terrible lime scent into my nose as I press my lips to his.

Milo's eyes widen in surprise for just a moment before he melts into the kiss, his lips warm and soft against mine. I feel the rush of excitement coursing through me as he responds, tilting his head to deepen the connection. His hands find their way to my waist, pulling me closer as if he’s trying to merge our bodies into one.

I lean into him, the heat radiating between us. I keep telling myself this is exactly what I need right now—someone who doesn’t come with the weight of expectations, who doesn’t make me feel vulnerable, who if he leaves after probably not making me cum I won't care. It won't hurt. I can stop feelinglike I am burning alive.

Milo pulls back slightly, his breath coming in quick bursts as he searches my eyes. “So, if you think you taste better than a pornstar martini, what do I have to do to find out?”

"Come with me."

Without waiting for his response, I take his hand and lead him through the thrumming crowd, the rhythm of the music becoming a distant echo as we break free into the cool night air. The shift from the heat of the club to the crisp breeze sends a shiver down my spine, but it’s refreshing, invigorating. The bass fades into a soft thump behind us as we step into the alley beside the club.

The dim light casts playful shadows on the brick walls, and I turn to face him, my pulse racing with adrenaline, fear, and the need to forget— even if my body is screaming for no one else to ever touch me. Jeez, if I feel like this after just a fingering, I would be deranged if we went all the way.

Milo pushes me against the rough brick wall, his lips grazing the curve of my neck, inhaling my scent like it’s the air he’s been craving. A wave of panic washes over me, and I instinctively push against the wall, creating a little space between us. But he leans in closer, pressing his body into mine, and my skin fucking itches.

I bite my lip, my mind racing as his warmth envelops me, but I can’t shake the discomfort brewing in my gut. The way he touches me feels too unfamiliar, too intense. “Milo, wait...just stop.” I say, my voice shaky.

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against my skin, the sound teasing. “What’s wrong, Josie? I bet you taste like honey, baby. Or are you just a tease?”

A jolt of panic shoots through me. “No, seriously, get off!” I push harder against the wall, my heart pounding in my chest. It doesn't feel right, and I don't know what's worse not being able to want anyone but Christopher, or the fact that I need to burn my skin now to get this guy's touch off of me.

He smirks, his eyes glinting with something darker. “Shut up, Josie. Just enjoy it.” With that, he covers my mouth with his hand, his grip firm enough to make my chest twist, as I struggle to breathe.

I squirm, trying to break free, but he holds me in place, his other hand sliding up the side of my thigh as he pushes his leg in-between mine. I whine against his hand, my breath coming in quick bursts as my panic escalates.Shit. Fuck.My breaths come out in hot bursts, and his fingers leave a trial of dirt across my skin.

"You are so fucking fine, baby." Milo chuckles. "I am going to-"

In a flash, a strong hand grips Milo’s shoulder, yanking him away from me.

I stumble forward as Milo is ripped off of me, the weight of his body gone. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I turn to see who my rescuer is.

I look up to see the toned back of Christopher standing there, muscles tensed as he grips Milo’s neck. Milo's feet dangle above the ground, and for a moment, I’m struck by the sheer power radiating off Christopher. He’s like a predator, ready to protect what’s his, and my heart does a backflip, because maybe he considers me his.

"Chris-"

“I will deal with you in a second,” he snarls, his voice low and dangerous, sending anelectrifying thrill through me.

"Wait!"

“Listen to me very carefully, princess." Christopher looks at me over his shoulder, his eyes darkened with rage. "You are going to close your eyes and turn around because I don’t want you to see me kill a man.”

CHAPTER 9

CHRISTOPHER

All I see is red. My fist pulls back, and with a snap, I drive it into his jaw, feeling the crack of bone against my knuckles. He stumbles, clutching his face, but he barely has a second to breathe before I grab him by the shirt and slam him against the wall. Blood trickles from his lip as he looks up, his eyes widening as recognition dawns.

“Oh, shit—wait, you’re… you’re Christopher Jackson. The NHL… theGolden Boy?” His voice shakes as he coughs out his words. “Man, I didn’t know.”

I don’t even respond. I throw him back against the wall with a shove, the dull thud echoing through the alley. He crumples, clutching his side, and I’m tempted to keep going, to make sure he regrets every second he laid a hand on her.

“Come on, she didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend.” He groans, and a part of me likes the sound of boyfriend; husband would be better, but I can’t even be joyful, because why would she need to tell him she belonged to me for him to stop? No should be fucking enough.

I clench my jaw, breathing hard, trying to calm the storm surging through me. But I can’t shake the image of his hands on her, his smug look like he owned her, and the way she looked—terrified. That’s what’s fueling this rage; it’s knowing he thought he could touch her, intimidate her. That if I wasn’t here he would have…I can’t even think about it.

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