Page 65 of The Puck Player

“That’s just it, I don’t think they do, I don’t think any of it does.”

“Is this about last night?”

“Yes. No. Not really. It’s about all of it I guess,” she shrugs, dropping down onto my bed and placing the box on the table next to it. “It’s just, how did I get here? How did I stray so far from everything I thought I knew? From going to church with my mom and grandma, and being with Ben, to sitting in penthouses with rich playboys, who have hearts bigger than anyone I’ve ever known?” She shakes her head in disbelief, and I watch her silently, knowing she needs to get this off her chest. “I keep expecting to feel like I am doing something wrong, that my faith will come back and scream at me for not being where I’m supposed to, except all I feel is free. Free of judgment, free of expectation, and free of the version of myself who they wanted me to be, but I never was.”

I can tell there is guilt weighing down on her shoulders and it kills me, because I know how good of a person she is, and it’s not because of any misguided faith or expectations, it’s because I know her, the real her.

I drop down to my knees in front of her. “Aubree, forget about everyone else for a second and just focus on you. What doyouwant? What doyouneed? That’s all that matters, you do that and I can promise you that your mother and grandmotherwill still be proud of you, no matter what,” I tell her firmly, watching as her stare searches mine, for what, I’m not sure.

“What if the only thing I need is you?” she asks in a shaky whisper, as if she doesn’t already have me hook, line and sinker, and my smile is instant.

“Baby, you’ve had me since the moment I laid eyes on you,” I tell her with a soft laugh, my words settling over her, and then for the second time without warning, she is grabbing me and slamming my lips against hers.

Aubree kisses me, she fucking kisses me, and it isn’t like the last time, it’s not urgent or even desperate. No, it's a possessive, claiming, completely and utterly sure kind of kiss, the kind that makes her fucking mine. There is no going back, not when her mouth moves against my own, or when her lips part and our tongues clash together as one.

My hands snake around her hips, dragging her from my bed and pulling her against me, wrapping my arms around her and claiming her right back, like I wanted to do that night in the bar. I pour every ounce of want and need into the kiss, dousing us both in flames and setting us alight. Right here there is no god, no Ben, no string of nameless girls I will turn to again, there is just me and her, and the fire we both ignite in one another.

She kisses me, commits to me, puts her fucking faith in me, and nothing has ever tasted sweeter. I steal her moans as she swallows my groans, and it’s the most perfect kiss in the history of the fucking world.

She is mine. Every part of her belongs to me. Her mind, her body, her soul, her fucking lips.

Everything about Aubree Callows is fucking mine.

Finally.

Ican still feel his lips seared against mine hours later. I kissed him.Again. Except this time he didn’t pull away, he didn’t back down, he didn’t make me stop. There was no invisible line we were crossing, and no fucking rules he had to force himself to follow. I kissed him and he let me, I kissed him and it was like every other kiss I have ever had in my life was erased completely. I became his, and I have been in a daze ever since.

The kiss could have lasted seconds, minutes, or hours, I’m not sure, but what I do know is that it was the most perfect kiss I’ve ever had. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t lacking passion, and there was no pressure for it to be more than a kiss. It was everything I had always wanted in a kiss, and somehow he has managed to become everything I have always wanted in a person. No prayers, no faith, no ring, just him.

I swear, even his mother could see the words written on my face as I sat by her side being pampered to within an inch of my life, and I couldn’t even enjoy her presence, because all I could think about was her damn son.

It was a surreal experience though, sitting with someone I have looked up to for years, listening to her talk to me like we had known one another forever, and I just wish my mom could have been there. A fact she must have seen written all over my face, because she asked me question after question about her, and for the first time since I lost her, I was able to talk about her with a smile on my face.

Now here I stand, looking at myself in the mirror and not recognizing the woman who is staring back at me. And it isn’t the professionally done makeup that has me looking like I am ready to walk a red carpet, or the sleek waves of my Hollywood glam-styled hair falling down my back perfectly. It isn’t even the soft pink silk gown I pulled from the collection Alexander picked out for me. No, it’s just me. My eyes no longer look lost and unsure, my smile is no longer sad and dim, and my shoulders aren’t hunched under the weight of other people’s pressure.

I look different, beautiful even, and it’s all because of him.

Just as I have that thought, Alexander walks into his closet with his focus on his phone, but when he looks up and meets my eyes in the mirror, he freezes, staring at me slack-jawed. Of course he looks beyond perfect in his black tuxedo, his blond hair perfectly tousled and effortlessly styled, but all I can focus on is the way he is looking at me.

“Aubree, I…” he trails off, bringing his hand to his heart, and he starts to walk toward me, and suddenly it’s too much, and I need to lighten the tension.

“You look stupid in that suit,” I blurt, and he pauses slightly, before a smirk spreads across his mouth.

When he reaches me, his hands find my hips instantly, his fingers flexing against me like he still can’t believe he is allowed to touch me. “Come on now, love, no one likes a liar,” he purrs, pressing his lips to the side of my throat, and I fight against my shudder.

“I thought that insulting each other was our thing,” I whisper, and he looks utterly delighted that we have something as great as ‘things’ between one another.

“Then come back into my room, Trouble, and I'll insult you as many times as you like,” he commands, still trailing his lips against my skin, and I can feel him everywhere.

“Just tell me I look hideous or something,” I demand, still so out of my depth with the full weight of his attention on me, and he pulls back with a laugh.

“Okay, you look disgusting,” he claims, turning me toward him and pulling me against him once more. “It’s sickening actually how awful you look. In fact, I should rip this dress right off you and save you from the wicked fate of anyone but me seeing you in it,” he adds, pressing possessive kisses along my jaw, and for a second I’m almost tempted to let him do it, but then I remember what tonight is for.

“Ah ah, hands to yourself,” I tell him with a quick shove. “I’m not missing going to a Striker party, my mother would rise from the dead and kill me,” I joke, and I see him pause, tilting his head as he looks at me with a smile.

It takes me a second to realize the joke I made, and I wait for the weight of grief to slam into me and take me down, but for the very first time it doesn’t make my knees buckle.

“You look stunning, Aubree, and I don’t have to believe in any god to know that your mother can see you right now, and agrees with her future son-in-law,” Alexander replies with a proud smile, holding his arm out for me to take, and I accept it with a smile as he begins to lead us out of the room.

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