Well and Truly Pucked (My Hockey Romance #4) Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny, Sports Tags Authors: Series: My Hockey Romance Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
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I take another, then turn around to a woozy, happy Hollis and say, “Thank you too.” My heart beats faster as I look at both of these men who were so determined to turn me on and send me over the cliff.

They made it happen even though tonight, it took a village. It took all of them to break my brain. To overwhelm my too busy mind. To shut off the noise.

I dare to look at Gavin again, and he’s still breathing hard in that chair. “Umm…thanks for letting me crash your party,” he says as he shifts around, probably looking for a tissue.

Yeah, I guess we all need to clean up. I look away, giving him what little privacy there is in this home to find one.

“Glad you got the hint,” Hollis says to him as I hear the rustle of a Kleenex box.

“Took him long enough,” Rhys remarks, then gives all his attention to me. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love. You worked hard tonight.”

Hollis soothes a hand up my back. “You did so good, baby.”

“I feel so good,” I say, my voice breaking for a few seconds.

I take another breath and stave off the flood of feelings, standing, looking for my clothes, something to cover up, to clean up. “I should shower,” I say, then my stomach rumbles. “I guess I’m hungry too.”

“We’ll take care of that,” Rhys says, and as I grab my sweatshirt and skirt, Gavin strides over, jeans buttoned, tissue tossed.

“Can I take her to the shower?”

He’s not asking me. He’s asking them. And there’s something so respectful in the question. He’s the welcomed party crasher, and sure, he swaggered in and hit the ground running. Now, he seems to sense he shouldn’t just barrel into this new scene like a bull in a china shop.

Rhys smirks.

Hollis laughs, then says, “You’re asking the wrong person.”

There’s nothing stoic in Gavin’s expression anymore as he turns to me. The softness of his mouth shows real vulnerability. So does his tone as he asks, “May I?”

42

THAT SHOWER THOUGH

Briar

There’s no question. My answer comes without a second thought. “Yes.”

Gavin scoops me up, grabbing my clothes too, and carries me to the bathroom we’re all sharing. He sets me down on the tiled floor, then hands me a fluffy towel he’s taken from the linen closet as we passed it. “Do you want me to get you something else to wear?”

“Sure. Jammies would be nice,” I say as I hang the towel on the hook next to the shower. “There’s a pair of sleep shorts with donuts on them on my bed. I left them there.”

“I’ll get them,” he says, eager to help.

A laugh bubbles up inside me, but I stifle it quickly. I don’t think he’d want me to laugh right now, even though I’m not laughing at him.

I’m still intoxicated from the most exhilarating night.

“Thanks,” I say, then I reach into the shower and turn the water to high as he leaves. Before I get in, I grab a hair tie from the vanity, twist my strands onto the top of my head, then look in the mirror, kind of amazed. “You just had sex with three guys.”

Fine, technically I didn’t. But that’s splitting hairs. For all intents and purposes, I did.

Somehow, three men are exactly what I needed to get over the hump.

Life is funny that way. I never expected Steven stealing my cat would lead to my first O with a man. It’s a bright new world.

I step into the shower and let the hot water sluice over me, lifting my face to the stream, savoring every sensation of this side of O-Land.

The door creaks open. Gavin’s back, setting the jammies on the vanity in a neat, folded pile. He’s not alone. Donut’s at his feet, waggling her little booty as she trots inside, headed straight for the shower. “Hey, girl,” I say to my pooch.

She shimmies in excitement.

She must have been in the bedroom the whole time. Probably for the best. She’s young and impressionable, after all.

After she finishes her greeting, she flops down on the bath mat.

Gavin gestures to the door with some reluctance. “I’ll leave you alone,” he says.

I almost want to ask him to stay, but he might need his space. “Sounds good,” I say, closing my eyes and lifting my face to the water as he exits.

Footsteps sound on the hardwood. But seconds later, the door swings open in a loud, definitive thunk. Startled, I blink open my eyes.

Gavin’s outside the shower stall barefoot, still dressed in jeans and a polo, and with determination etched in his sinful hazel eyes. He grabs the handle on the shower door and jerks it open, muttering, “Fuck it.”

“Fuck what and why?”

The corner of his lips twitches as he gives a what can you do shrug, then stretches an arm into the shower and curls his hand around the back of my head.


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