Puck Pact: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (East Coast Series)
Puck Pact: Chapter 25

“Would you quit it?”

McKinley’s shoulders droop. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood here.”

Aarya pats him on the shoulder. “Read the room, dude.”

He’s been singing, “Chapel of Love,” by The Dixie Cups, “Let’s Get Married,” by Jagged Edge, and Prince’s, “Let’s Pretend We’re Married” since we got to the courthouse.

But this isn’t a happy moment. We aren’t two lovers about to pledge our lifelong love to each other. A beautiful woman wearing my mother’s ring sits beside me, yet everything about this moment is all wrong. This day is only a reminder of the piece of shit my grandfather is, forcing me to make an insane decision to marry someone in order to keep my parents’ villa.

I don’t mean to take out my frustration on McKinley. He’s doing me a favor by being our witness today. Still, I can’t shake this awful mood I’m in.

It doesn’t help that people are snapping pictures and asking for autographs, no doubt posting the news of our marriage for all the world to see.

Anxiety sits heavy on my chest, constricting my throat, and the tremor in my hands has me pushing out of the chair. “I’ll be right back.”

I head to the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. I brace my hands on the counter, and let my head hang down between my shoulders as I breathe in.

One, two, three, four.

Out through my lips.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

I jump at a gentle touch along my back.

“You’re okay, Big Man. Just keep breathing.”

I lift my head to meet Aarya’s concerned gaze in the mirror. “You’re in the men’s room.”

She smirks. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“I’m sorry I⁠—”

“Don’t apologize.” Her palm makes small circles between my shoulder blades. “I know this is a weird day, but remind yourself why we’re doing this. We’re taking control. You hold the power, and you hold the key to your parents’ villa.”

She’s right.

I’m in control. Not my grandfather.

I turn around to face her, and brush my knuckles against her cheek. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

She glances down at her cream-colored sweater dress. “I had to buy something for the occasion. I didn’t realize how many black clothes I owned until I had to find something white to wear.”

“You look stunning in any color.” I drop my hand from her face, resisting the urge to pull her in for a kiss.

Something I’ve been having a difficult time doing since we got back from Greece.

I knew she was going to sneak off and look for that video I posted on Kourtney’s website. But I didn’t expect to walk in on her touching herself while she watched it. Catching her with her fingers in her panties, the heated flush on her cheeks, the look of lust in her eyes…my restraint snapped. We crossed a line that night, yet I can’t find it in myself to regret it. The image of her completely naked in front of me with her ankles on my shoulders while she rubbed my cum on her pussy—how could I ever regret that? It’s like the rational part of my brain shut down, and now that I’ve gotten a taste of her, I only want more.

I shake the memory from my mind so I don’t give myself a raging hard-on before we stand before the judge. “I was thinking, since it’s not too cold out today, maybe I can take you riding before I have to get Giuliana from school.”

She waggles her eyebrows. “And I was thinking we could consummate our marriage.”

I huff out a laugh and shake my head. “You’re relentless.”

“But it made you laugh.” She grins. “Sure, I’d love to take a ride—on the bike, but to be clear, I’m down to ride you as well.”

My shoulders shake with my laughter. “Come on, spitfire.” I swat her on the ass. “Let’s go make an honest woman out of you.”

When it’s our turn in the courtroom, we face each other, hold hands, and recite the vows to make this arrangement legal.

To have and to hold.

From this day forward.

For better or worse.

For richer, for poorer.

In sickness and in health.

To love and to cherish.

Until death do us part.

They’re generic vows, yet they wrap around my heart when I say them as I look into Aarya’s big brown eyes. What’s more is the earnest way she looks at me when it’s her turn to repeat after the judge. I know this is fake for her, a means to getting one-hundred-thousand-dollars deposited in her bank account. But for the mere seconds she holds my gaze and promises to love and cherish me, I let myself believe that she means it.

Because I want her to mean it.

Because I mean it.

Because no matter how hard I’ve tried to keep my heart safe, I’m falling in love with the woman I’m marrying.

Fully aware that she may never feel the same way.

“You’re not going to go too fast, right?”

I spin Aarya around and collect her hair in my hands. “You’re safe with me.”

“Funny how that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not going to push my bike to the limit with you on the back.”

“I don’t like the idea of you pushing it to the limit at all.”

“I don’t anymore. Not like I used to.”

She pauses. “Are you…are you braiding my hair?”

“It’ll get tangled if I don’t.”

“Perks of being a girl dad, I guess.”

I chuckle. “I had to YouTube a lot of videos when Giuliana was younger. Thank God for the internet.”

“If you need a hair tie⁠—”

“Got one.” I slip the black hair tie off my wrist and wrap it around the end of the braid. Then I take the helmet off my bike seat and carefully push it over the top of her head.

As a wedding gift, I bought Aarya a riding jacket and gloves so she didn’t have to keep wearing mine, and had a new helmet fitted to her size.

Her eyes flick up to mine as I tilt her head and adjust the buckle under her chin. “Promise me you won’t let me die?”

I tug the bottom of her helmet and bring it until it clinks against mine. “If you feel unsafe or scared at any time, you can tell me to slow down and I will. But I promise, I will always be careful with your life in my hands.”

She nods. “Okay.”

I turn to my bike, gesturing to the electronic screen between the handlebars. “So, once you turn the key and everything lights up, you’re going to hit the kill switch over here. This is what turns the bike on and off. And then this button underneath ignites the engine.”

She leans over to glance down at everything I showed her. “Can I start it?”

“Go for it, spitfire.”

She reaches out and goes through the steps I just showed her, and then the bike roars to life. I mount the bike and lift the kickstand before holding out my hand for her. She steps onto the peg and swings her leg over to the other side, sliding her hands around my waist.

“I’m going to teach you how to be a good backpack.”

“A backpack?”

“That’s what it’s called when someone rides as a passenger, because you’re clinging to me like a backpack. So, you don’t want to lean too much against me, especially when I’m stopping. You can brace one hand against the gas tank here.” I take one of her hands and plant it in front of me. “When I lean into a turn, we won’t fall over. Just go with the motion of the bike. And when I tap you like this,” I reach my hand back and tap her knee, “You hold on tight.”

I hear her say, “Got it,” through the Packtalk speakers in my helmet.

I pull out of my driveway and onto the main road. I take my time, weaving in and out of traffic, and make sure she feels comfortable.

“How are you doing back there?” I ask several minutes into the ride.

“Good. You can go a little faster if you want.”

I chuckle, and then I twist the throttle to accelerate.

Riding always calms my nerves. The world and all of its problems fade away as everything blurs around me. Riding takes concentration and control, and it quiets my mind. With Aarya holding onto me, it’s like I’ve unlocked a new level of peace. Her body pressed against mine, holding onto me for security, trusting me to protect her with her life in my hands.

It’s intimate. It means something.

When I reach the destination about twenty minutes later, I slow down and pull off the road to park. We stand and stretch, hanging our helmets off each handle.

Aarya scans the area. “So, where are we?”

“It’s nowhere really. It’s not a park or a well-known spot. I accidentally stumbled upon it right after I signed with the Goldfinches. I needed the quiet, away from the chaos of it all.”

We disappear between the trees, our shoes crunching on the dead grass beneath us.

“What’s that?” Aarya visors her eyes with her hand as she squints against the sunlight.

I bite back a smile as we walk over to the plaid blanket laid out on the ground with a picnic basket sitting on top of it. “It’s our post-wedding celebratory lunch.”

Her mouth drops open as her eyes fly up to mine. “You planned this?”

“I know it’s not our real wedding day, but I wanted to do something…special.” I shrug, suddenly feeling foolish for thinking this was a good idea. “It’s silly, but⁠—”

“Stop.” She rushes over to the blanket, and pulls out the bottle of champagne sticking out of the basket. “We’re pretending, right? So why not pretend that we’re a pair of happy newlyweds having a picnic under the Eiffel Tower in Paris?”

I laugh as I lower myself to the blanket beside her. “Okay, I’ll play along. I’ll be Anthony Spinelli, founder and CEO of a billion-dollar tech company.”

Her eyes light up. “I’ll be Regina Spinelli, world-renowned fashion designer.”

I pop the cork, and pour each of us a glass of champagne. “To my beautiful wife. Thank you for marrying me and making me the happiest man alive.”

She giggles as she clinks her glass against mine. “And to my handsome husband, thank you for taking me on the honeymoon of my dreams around the French riviera.”

“Anything for you, shnookums.”

She tosses her head back as she laughs, and my heart bursts at the sight of it. She’ll smirk, or give me a smile every now and again. But the sound of her laughter is something I don’t take for granted.

And after the weird morning we had, it feels good to be silly and let loose a little.

After we finish the sandwiches I made us, I hand her a napkin. “So how does it feel to be a married woman?”

Aarya holds out her left hand in front of her, gazing down at the sparkling diamond on her finger—now coupled with my mother’s thin wedding band. “You know, darling, everyone says they feel no different when they’re married, but I don’t know. I feel different. Like I’m more mature. More elegant.”

I stifle a laugh, trying my best to play along with the ridiculous charade. “You are very elegant, my little sugar plum.” I press a kiss to the top of her hand before taking a bite of my sandwich.

“I’m so glad you were able to get away from the office, dear.” She pouts. “I hate when you work those long hours.”

I lift my thumb to her plump bottom lip and give it a tug. “I’m sorry, baby. I do wish I could be home with you.”

She nips at my thumb, giving me those seductive dark eyes. “I get so lonely in that big house all by myself.”

My gaze drops to her mouth, and I can’t bring myself to pull my hand away. “I should make more of an effort to spend time with you.”

“You should.” Her tongue skates out and grazes the tip of my thumb. “I would make it worth your while.”

“I have no doubt.” My dick throbs in my pants as the memory of Greece flashes through my mind again. “One night making love to you would be worth all the damn money in the world.”

She wraps her lips around my thumb, and I push it further into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around it as she hums.

“Every day I’m with you, the weaker I become in resisting you,” I whisper, letting the truth slip free.

She pops my thumb out of her mouth and draws me closer with her hands around the back of my neck. “You don’t have to resist your wife.”

I shouldn’t.

I don’t want to.

These false pretenses have real consequences, yet I can’t find it in myself to care with the way she’s looking up at me, wearing my ring on her finger, after she took my last name.

When I look at her, all I see is mine.

And after seeing her sprawled out for me on the bed in Greece, marked with my cum, I seem to have lost all of my self-control.

Without warning, I scoop her up in my arms and carry her away from the picnic blanket. We’re too out in the open here, and anyone wandering by could catch us. So I stalk over to my bike, parked and hidden behind a patch of trees, and plant her ass on the seat sideways, facing me.

I lean down and kiss her hard, my tongue surging inside in search of hers. She clings to me, teetering back on the seat as I ravage her mouth, licking and sucking and nipping at her like a man starved.

I am starving for this woman.

I have been since the moment we met.

I kneel down in front of her, and slide my hands up along her bare thighs, under her dress and hooking my thumbs on the sides of her panties before dragging them down her legs.

She leans back on the bike seat, spreading her legs wide.

“Goddamn,” I murmur, gazing up at her while she watches me in anticipation. “Look at you, with your bare pussy on my seat, legs spread for me. I’m never going to get this image out of my head.”

She tips her chin. “Good.”

Good. Because she wants to be mine as much as I want her to be, whether she admits it or not.

I slide my thumb over her, swirling her arousal over her clit in slow circles. “So wet for your husband.”

Her hips rock against my featherlight touch as she lets out a breathy moan. “Please, Alex.”

“I’ve got you, baby. I’m going to take care of this for you.” I grip onto her hips as my tongue glides over her, teasing her with soft strokes at first. “You gave me a small taste of you in Greece, and I haven’t been able to stop craving you.”

She lets out a loud moan, gripping onto the back of my head with one of her hands while the other keeps her propped up on the seat as she rolls her hips against me, pressing me exactly where she wants me.

She wants more, and I intend on giving it to her.

“Hold on, baby.” I toss her legs over my shoulders and bury my face between her thighs, feasting on her like she’s my last meal, rubbing my tongue all over her.

“Fuck, Alex. That feels so good.”

It’s my name that does me in. Not Krum Cake. Not Big Man. To her, I’m not just a famous pro athlete. She has seen behind the walls I’ve carefully constructed around myself. For so long, I’ve been comprised of hockey and fatherhood. I’ve devoted my life to those two things, and while I wouldn’t trade them for the world, I want to be more than that. I am more than that.

I want someone to love all that I am. Not just the team captain, not only a dad. I want someone to see my heart and my soul. All of me.

And I want her to be that someone.

I curl a finger inside of her, matching the rhythm with my tongue.

Aarya gazes down at me, her fingers gripping my hair as she grinds herself against my face. “Right there, Alex,” she whimpers. “Just like that. On your knees for me like a good boy.”

I bask in her praise, groaning loud as I devour her. I curl a second finger inside of her, stroking her exactly where she needs me, and then she breaks apart, legs shaking as she screams my name into the sky.

I rub my tongue in slow strokes against her pussy as she comes down, lapping up every last delicious drop of her. Then I press soft kisses along her inner thighs and down each leg as I slide her panties back on for her.

She wobbles on her feet as she stands, clinging to me until she steadies herself.

She wears a sated smile as she reaches up to kiss me. “That was…incredible.”

It was, and I won’t be able to stop myself from tasting her again. I’m addicted.

“I know we should keep our boundaries set in place, but every time I’m around you, all I want to do is tear down every fucking one,” I confess.

“Would it be so bad? To let ourselves enjoy each other while we’re pretending?”

Pretending. I hate the word as soon as it leaves her mouth.

“This isn’t pretending.” I cup her face and stare into her eyes. “What we just did? What happened in Greece? It’s not fake to me.”

“I know. I… I shouldn’t have said that.” Her throat bobs as she swallows. “It’s not fake for me either. The way I want you is very real.”

But is it the same way I want her?

Maybe it’s because we just got married. Maybe it’s because we’re wearing my parents’ rings, and their lives were taken too soon so it feels like I should be living my life to the fullest in honor of them. Maybe having her for a while is better than not having her at all.

I stroke her soft cheek with my thumb. “You’re wearing me down, spitfire. I’m defenseless against you.”

That earns me another smile. “Good.”

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