Puck One Night Stands: a grumpy-sunshine, best friend’s brother hockey rom com (Chicago Racketeers Book 1)

NATHAN WOKE me up twice in the night. After insisting I spend the night.

Not that it was ever posed as a question or invitation. It was “you’re staying” and him giving me a shirt to sleep in, telling me there was no need for panties anyway, and taking me to bed.

And I loved it. Being bossed around was even better than I expected. It made me so hot, every single time.

He fucked me there with me on my back, him kneeling between my thighs, all the lights on, his sharp, dark eyes taking in every single detail.

I feel like I can hide nothing from this man.

It’s scary and wonderful at the same time. He’s intimidating, but he also makes me feel protected and cherished. Even when he’s talking dirtier to me than anyone ever has. It’s perfect.

After the first time in his bed, we showered, where he washed me from head to toe, and then he made me orgasm with his mouth again. Then he carried me to bed, put me on my hands and knees, and fucked me again.

Then in the night he pulled me on top of him and made me ride him. Not that it was anything I was going to protest. And then, just before dawn, he fucked me in the very vanilla missionary position.

Though the words he said and intensity in how he did it was anything but vanilla.

The man knows what he’s doing.

Now we’re in his town car, on our way to my apartment.

And he’s holding my hand.

I’m definitely sore from everything last night, I get wet just thinking about it, and he called me his dirty slut several times. But he’s now holding my hand. After making me a bagel with sweet cream cheese and fresh strawberries and a cappuccino from his very own extremely fancy, incredibly expensive espresso machine.

I know he doesn’t intend for anything to happen between us beyond last night, but I’m so glad I had that night with him. He’s made so many of my fantasies come to life. I know I’m not crazy for wanting those things. And now I know that there are men out there who can make them real for me.

He’s treated me like I am not just a sexually naive, twenty-four year old bookshop owner who doesn’t know anything about the game that’s so important in his life and business.

He’s made me feel sexy, interesting, and worthy of pampering and adoration.

The car pulls up in front of my building and I say, “Thank you so much for last night, Nathan.”

It seems so inadequate but I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling.

He lifts my hand to his mouth, but instead of kissing the back of it, he turns and presses his lips to my palm, sending zings of heat through my body. “It was very much my pleasure.”

I take a deep breath and smile.

He leans in. “Are you sore?”

He’s so sweet to be concerned. I nod. “Yes.”

He gives me a wicked smile. “Good.”

Or maybe not so sweet. “You’re so dirty,” I scold. But my voice is too breathless to sound anything but turned on.

His voice drops. “So are you, dirty girl. Thank you for that.”

If I had panties on, they’d be wet again right now. But I don’t. He kept them. So I just squeeze my thighs together.

He notices. And smirks. Then he gets out of the car and holds out a hand to help me out.

He’s wearing blue jeans and a fitted black T-shirt today rather than a suit, and when he’d walked out of the bedroom, I swear I almost drooled.

The man is annoyingly handsome in everything.

And out of everything.

We walk toward the front door of the book shop. I plan to go into the shop and check on any phone messages and mail before I head upstairs. I will not say anything about seeing him, talking to him again, or…anything.

It hits me that I’m sad.

I knew this was a one night thing. No way would a man like Nathan Armstrong want to keep seeing me. We have nothing in common. I have nothing he could want long term. Sure maybe he’d want to sleep together again, but that could be really bad for my heart.

Though very good for your writing.

Well, there is that.

My next installment of my story is going to be so good. My readers are going to eat it up.

No pun intended.

Okay, maybe there’s a slight pun intended.

I’m wrapped up in my thoughts about how I’m going to use last night as inspiration and don’t notice that there’s someone standing in the little alcove of the bookshop until he pushes away from the wall and says, “Well, good morning you two.”

I focus on Crew.

Who is eyeing us with curiosity rather than any obvious anger or jealousy.

I can’t say the same for Nathan when I look up at him.

His jaw is tight and he’s glaring at Crew as if he’d like to punch him. Or fire him.

Crap. Nathan is kind of Crew’s boss.

But I told him last night that I’d kissed Crew. And that I thought we were going to be dating. This shouldn’t shock him.

“Hi, Crew,” I say with a smile. “What are you doing here?”

He looks so good in blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a dark green Henley that molds to his chest, shoulders, and biceps, the color bringing out the green of his eyes.

I feel Nathan’s hand on my lower back. His presence beside me suddenly feels bigger and hotter. Is that possible?

“I’m here to see you, of course.” Crew gives me one of his I’m-charming-as-fuck-aren’t-I? grins as we stop in front of him.

And he is. It’s not really a matter of opinion. He’s charming. And good-looking, and talented, and funny, and cocky as hell.

“That’s sweet,” I say.

“Why?” Nathan asks over the top of my words, slipping his arm around my waist and resting his hand on my hip.

Crew doesn’t even look at Nathan when he says, “Because I can’t let the rich, older dude she’s fucking have all the fun, can I?”

My eyes go wide and I actually gasp. I’m not sure if it’s because Crew just called Nathan old, or because he blatantly assumed Nathan and I slept together, or because he’s right and I’m not used to talking about stuff like that out loud on the sidewalk outside my bookshop. Or anywhere else. Is it that obvious Nathan is bringing me home after banging my brains out? And if so, is there something I should do next time to make it less obvious? Is there going to be a next time? How do I feel about there being a next time? Or there not being a next time?

Clearly I’m very distractible this morning.

“Don’t forget that this older dude signs your paychecks, McNeill,” Nathan says.

Crew chuckles. “You’re grumpy this morning. Did you pull something last night? You gotta stretch before physical exertion, man. I can show you how to make sure your hips and groin are nice and loose.”

“That is absolutely never going to happen,” Nathan informs him.

“I’m just thinking about Dani,” Crew says. “Want her to have the best experience possible.” He gives me a wink.

Why is Crew poking at Nathan? That is not a good idea. Nathan is not just his boss. He’s not exactly laid back, even when he’s in a good mood.

“I’m not the one who’s sore from last night,” Nathan says.

I look up at him quickly. He’s watching me now. With a possessive, and heated look in his eyes.

“Okay, then,” Crew says. “Good to know.” He reaches out and takes my hand. “I’ll be gentle with her then.”

Nathan does make a soft growling noise at that, but he doesn’t stop me when Crew tugs me forward, out of Nathan’s embrace. In fact, he sighs.

It’s as if he realizes he doesn’t have a good reason to stop Crew.

He might be feeling a little territorial and Crew is definitely poking at him and he couldn’t resist rising to the bait, but when it comes right down to it, Nathan doesn’t want to keep me. He doesn’t want a repeat of last night.

“Bye, Nathan,” I say, giving him a smile. I’m not sure what the protocol is here. How do you thank a guy for the things Nathan did to me? I mean, I am grateful, but I think he knows. The panting, moaning, and screaming last night was a sure giveaway.

His smile is slow, sexy, and just for me. “Goodbye, Danielle.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. Then whispers, “You were magnificent.”

And just like that my core heats.

I like that so much. I want more of it. Lots more.

He leans back and the look he gives me tells me that he knows all of that.

Then he gives Crew a look. “She’ll need to go upstairs to change before you take her to the circus or the mall or whatever you have planned.”

Oh, a dig at how young Crew is. So the competition isn’t over yet.

“Is that right?” Crew looks me up and down. “She looks absolutely delicious to me.”

Even as I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt to rile Nathan, I feel my heartbeat flutter at the way Crew looks at me too.

I don’t know what good luck charm I accidentally rubbed a couple days ago or what good deed I did that the universe has decided to reward me for, but having all of these men giving me attention is very, very nice.

Nathan and Crew couldn’t be more different but they both make me feel sexy and adored and thank you, Universe, I’ll have some more.

“Well, she’ll need some underwear on for roller skating or swinging in the park or whatever you kids are going to do.”

Crew just chuckles. I wonder if anything can get under his skin.

“I do love roller skating, though, as you know, I’m better on the ice.” He looks me up and down again. “But where are your panties, Dani? Do you make a habit of going without, pretty girl? Because I approve.”

My cheeks are bright red I’m sure, and I shoot Nathan a frown. “No, I, um–”

“They’re at my penthouse,” Nathan says smoothly.

“I see. Well, I guess we do have some things beyond a love for hockey in common, boss,” Crew says. “Our taste in women, for one.”

Oh my God, enough of this. I turn to the bookshop door, shove the key into the lock with more force than necessary, and push the door open.

“Bye, Nathan,” I call as I duck inside.

No surprise, Crew is right behind me. He’s laughing as he closes the door. “Well, that was fun.”

“Fun?” I ask, heading for the counter to check the mail and messages. “Antagonizing your boss and my–” But I break off when I realize that I have no idea what to call Nathan.

“Yes, fun,” Crew says, thankfully not dwelling on terms for Nathan and me. He props himself against the bookcase across from the front counter. I have the expanse of wood and about four feet of floor between us and I still feel jumpy with his eyes on me. “Nathan never has anyone hassle him. I love that you’re getting to him. It’s good for him to have some fucking emotions for a change.”

“Me?” I ask, surprised. “It’s you who’s getting to him.”

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be able to if it wasn’t for you.”

That makes my stomach swoop. But it shouldn’t. Nathan just said goodbye to me. I take a breath, flip through my mail, and then turn toward the steps leading up to my apartment. “I do need to change clothes.”

“I love that you just came home in the same clothes you wore last night,” Crew says. “Good for you.”

“Yeah?” I study him. I thought he was interested in me in a romantic…okay, a sexual…way. But he truly seems fine with the idea that I slept with another man last night.

“Yeah. You look happily rumpled. And glowy. It’s very cute on you.”

I don’t know what to say to that, but it makes me happy. I finally just nod. “Thanks.”

“And I look forward to contributing to that.”

My breath catches in my chest. “Oh yeah?”

The grin he gives me makes my stomach swoop too. “Oh, yeah.”

Well, I guess that answers that. “So you want to come upstairs?”

He shakes his head. “I want to take you out.”

“Okay.”

“Before I make you come so hard you’ll see stars.”

My breath rushes out. Geez. These men. I might not survive having a fling with these three hot, dirty, intense men.

But I’m going to die with a huge smile on my face.

“I, um…so, I’ll just…”

“Go change your clothes,” he fills in for me, with a knowing smile. “But hurry.”

“Right. Yes.” I start up the stairs. “Be right back.”

I showered at Nathan’s so in the bathroom, I simply comb my hair, brush my teeth, swipe on very light mascara and lip gloss, and spritz on some body spray. Then I cross to my closet, stripping out of my dress and bra. I first reach for a cute pair of jeans, but then decide on another dress. I mean, I don’t want there to be anything in Crew’s way if he wants to slip a hand near, or into, my panties.

I even contemplate putting on panties at all. For ten seconds. In the end, I do. I’m not a no-panties girl. Not really.

At least not yet.