Pucking Wild (Jacksonville Rays, #2)

by Emily Rath

Here's what I don’t love about the beach: the sand. I mean, enough with the sand already. It gets everywhere! Between your toes, under your boobs, up your booty crack. I made the colossal mistake of putting on some chapstick, and then I was licking tiny little grains off my lips for the rest of the day.

Yeah, fuck you, sand.

Rays will strictly be enjoyed in their natural habitat. Take only pictures, leave only footprints.

She laughs, holding up the dish rag. “Cuteness, what do you expect me to do with this? Make a nipple hat?”

I don’t strut around talking about claiming women and fighting off the affections of other men like some brute caveman. But right now, with this beautiful naked woman standing in front of me, I feel ready to go looking for a club. Me Ryan. You pretty. Make fire and baby.

you and Compton…you’re not…are you with him?” She scoffs. “No way. Never happening. That man is so far off limits, he may as well be another species. He’s like a butterfly…or a sexy fish in a tank. Tess can look, but she doesn’t touch.”

“I want to know what you taste like.” Fuck, did I just say those words out loud? It had to be me because she’s looking at me like I’m crazy. “Ryan—” “A kiss,” I say, breathless. “That’s my secret. I want a kiss. One kiss. From you.” Her full lips tip on one side, flashing me a sexy little half-smile. “And what would a guy like you do with one kiss from a girl like me?” “Savor it,” I reply. “Cherish it. Save it for a rainy day.”

This is only the beginning. Because there is no way I’m letting her just walk away. Tess Owens is my dream girl…she just doesn’t know it yet.

“Rachel Diane Price,” I say, my voice louder. “Are you sure you want to get married tonight? Because I swear to God, if you give me even a look like you’d rather run, I will throw you over my shoulder, linebacker my way down those stairs, and we’ll run.”

“And then Jake found me in Seattle,” she says with a smile. “And when he found me, I found me too. I’m who I’m meant to be now. With them, I’m me. Jake, Caleb, and Ilmari, they’re my reason. So, I’m not walking down that aisle tonight. I’m running. I’m running to them, Tess. I’m going home.”

My protector mode surges. “Jake Compton, are you having second thoughts?” “What?” he squawks. “No. Fuck no. Get out of my way, and I’ll marry her right here, right now. I wanted to marry her the night we met. Rach, tell her I’m not backing out!”

“What?” Harrison cries, slapping Jake’s hand off his shoulder. “No fucking way, asshole. Rachel is my twin. I will literally stab you in the throat if you try and take this from me. I’m best man.”

God, this man is too damn precious. He’s like if a golden retriever came to life and started wearing bespoke Armani suits. And here I was grilling Rachel about needing an exit. What’s the point? No matter where I might take her, this man will just follow us. Jake Compton Price is Rachel’s end game. I have absolutely nothing to worry about by putting her happiness in his hands.

Love is love. Give me a flag and douse me in glitter. I’m down to dance at a pride parade.

“Jake, I love you,” he declares, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “I’ve loved you for ten fucking years. I loved you in secret,” he admits. “I loved you like a coward. I didn’t deserve to be loved by you in return—not until I got out of my own damn way. But I needed a little help. I needed a push.”

“You’ve always been my friend,” Sanford goes on. “Then you became my lover. Tonight, I make you my husband. You’re mine, Jake Price. You’re mine, and I’m never letting go.”

I turn my attention back to the guys as Compton takes a step closer, his eyes locked on Sanford. “So, umm…playing hockey has always been about putting myself first—my training, my diet, and my travel and game schedules. Everyone in my life just learned to orbit me. And if my life was too much for them, they flung themselves out of my orbit as fast as possible.” It’s like he’s describing the personal lives of half the men in this room, myself included. “Over time,” Compton goes on, “I realized I was a sun with no planets, the center of my own universe. I had everything I ever wanted, but I was alone, just me and my career. You were the only one who stayed, Cay. You stuck it out. You let me be selfish and self-centered. You let me put my career first and never once questioned it, never made me question it,” he adds, a slight tremor to his voice. “You joined me at the center. You don’t orbit me like all the others did. You stand resolutely at my side, unmoving. Babe, you are love in suspended motion. The calm in the storm of our lives. You’re where everything stops. You’re where I stop. You are…everything,” he finishes with a shrug.

it sounded pretty fucking perfect. It sounded like Compton and Sanford share the kind of love that all of us search for…and so few of us ever find.

I’d be the biggest liar in the world if I said I didn’t want you wrapped around me like naked bark on a tree.”

“I see someone who loves her friends,” I go on. “Someone who puts others first. Maybe I like the idea of being the one who gets to put you first. I like taking care of people, Tess. And I take excellent care of what’s mine.”

“There was nothing hasty in my decision to make them mine.

“Holy fuck,” I say on a sigh. “You’re telling me you look and sound like that, you play hockey the way you do. I’m sure you fuck like a god,” I add. “Our Rachel doesn’t settle for anything less than the best. And you’re environmentally conscious?”

I miss Rachel like a piece of me has been cleaved away. She’s my best friend, Mars.” “I know.” “You three better be so fucking good to her,” I say, pointing a finger at him. “We will,” he says, getting to his feet. “You better,” I challenge, rising to my feet too. “Or I am gonna come down there to Jacksonville. And I’m going to chop you up into tiny little bits and feed you to those damn sea turtles.”

It’s about to be David versus Goliath, and I left my slingshot in my other pencil skirt.

she and Cay are out for dinner and a movie,” he replies. “He’s trying the whole ‘domestic wedded bliss’ thing. It’s adorable, like watching a chimp on roller-skates.”

“Tess? Are you injured?” “No,” I sniffle, my hands gripping tighter to Ilmari’s shoulders. “Are you on the run from the law? Is this like a hideout situation?” “Christ, Jake,” Ilmari mutters. “Well, I don’t fucking know,” he says. “Cay doesn’t call her Tornado for nothing. Maybe she spun some shit up, and now she’s on the lam. We can’t afford to hide a fugitive right now, Mars. We leave for the Winter Classic tomorrow. And I’m sure as fuck not going to prison as her accomplice. Are you kidding me?”

You are a goddess, and you deserve to be worshipped and adored. Altars, burning of incense…maybe some ritual orgies.”

you’re a horny little horndog who can’t get enough.”

Jake scoffs. “You guys really need to brush up on your polyamory. I’m not fucking Mars, alright? And he’s not fucking me,” he adds, pointing a finger at Morrow who swallows his retort. “He’s my metaphor.” Sully and I share a quick glance. “Your what?” I say. “My metaphor,” Jake repeats. “It’s a polyam term.” “I really don’t think it is,” Sully says, trying to contain his smile.

“So uhh…it’s metamour. Not metaphor. Mars is my metamour.”

“I have a feeling hell will freeze over before Mars Kinnunen calls you Mr. Metamour,” Morrow says with a laugh, scooping his soccer ball up off the floor. “It’s Mars Price, asshole,” says Jake, punching Morrow’s shoulder hard.

As one, they take me in, three sets of eyes trailing from my face, down across my blanket dress, and back up. Jake’s face splits into a grin. “Well, that happened fast.” He glances to his partners. “I guess we have no problem here then, right? So, everyone can just stop being mad at Jake now.”

“Yeah, what’s yours is mine now, asshole,” Jake adds. “Metaphors, remember?” “Ohmygod, it’s metamour,” Rachel cries. “We can’t keep correcting you—” “Fuck! I hate that fucking word.” He glares at Mars. “I hate calling you a metamour, Mars. It’s weird and confusing and I just—I fucking hate it.” “I never asked you to call me that,” Ilmari replies. “We gotta pick something better,” Jake presses. “Why can’t I just call you my husband?” “I never said you couldn’t,” he says softly. Jake sucks in a sharp breath. “Wait, oh my god, are you serious right now?” He looks to Rachel, all the anger blown from his sails. “Babe, is he serious?” “He’s always serious,” Rachel replies, her anger receding, too, as she glances between them.

“Don’t make a joke now. Mars, are you serious? Can I call you my husband? I might cry in front of these guys if you say yes,”

“Call me whatever you want,” Ilmari says at last. “I mean, Cay’s my husband,” Jake says. “Like, my husband husband. Like, we’re legally married.” “I know,” says Mars. “I was there.” “But you could be my husband too,” Jake says gently. “In a purely friends way,” he adds. “I said call me whatever you want,” Ilmari repeats with a shrug.

“Nope. Not happening. I’m not calling you my husband until you beg me for it. We’ll find another word to use as a placeholder.” Ilmari’s scarred brow lifts slightly. “A placeholder?” “Yep,” Jake replies. “‘Cause the day will come when you’ll beg me for it. Could be tomorrow, could be ten years from now. I’m patient. I’ll wait.” “Is that a threat or a bet?” Ilmari replies, smirking.

His exhaustion is written in every line of his face. My poor sunshine puppy from the beach is now looking like a stray left out in a box in the rain.

I’m gonna have to insist that you go fuck yourself with your hockey stick.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he says with a smirk, those apple green eyes blown black with hunger. “I have no problem with toys. But I’m not giving away my first shot with Tess Owens. I’m not taking the assist. This orgasm is mine. Now, get on the fucking bed.”

So, after surviving my fights with Mars and Bea, I now have to put on an Emmy-winning performance as the thirty-three-year-old hot mess of a soon-to-be divorcée who is most definitely not picturing her roommate naked. Awesome. Love this journey for me.

I swing the door open and step inside. I’m immediately met with the thumping sound of loud rock music. I’m greeted by a scene like something out of a low budget frat boy porno. There are five buff shirtless guys lounging on all the furniture. A few have game controllers in their hands, their eyes locked on the TV, including Ryan. Two more are on their phones, manspreading in those sexy workout shorts that give a generous glimpse of cut thighs. I’m just gonna say it—whoever is in charge of approving the designs for NHL team apparel deserves a raise.

He practically screams ‘fuckboy.’ I bet he has exactly two things in his pocket: his car keys and a condom.

“You assholes have ten minutes to get this place looking spotless, and then you’re leaving. And if my girl finds even one Cheerio on the carpet later, I’ll be dragging you all over here to vacuum every inch of the floor with your mouths. Got it? Good. Get up and get out.”

“Tess, you look…” She walks past the kitchen table over to where I’m standing by the couch, the full skirt of her dress swishing with each step. “Ravishing? Divine? Clean?” she adds with a teasing smile. “All three,” I say with a stunned shake of my head. I keep the words I was actually thinking to myself. Gorgeous. Fuckable. Goddamn desirable.

The truth is that I’m falling hard for this woman, and from everything I see and feel, she’s just…falling. And I don’t know how to catch her. I don’t know how to make it stop.

“Listen to me, Tess. I don’t know who you were before. All I know is who you are now. And from the first moment we met, not five hundred yards down this exact stretch of beach, you have been the only thing I see.”

“I see you, Tess,” he says, dropping his end of the towel to cup my cheek. “I see you. I can’t stop seeing you—your wit, your beauty, your grace. You’re so goddamn graceful. These fingers,” he adds, reaching down to take my hand. “I watch the way they dance through your hair, taming your curls away from your face.”

“Maybe you are a ghost,” he goes on, splaying my hand against his chest. “Because your laugh…it fucking haunts me. At the wedding, it was like I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, because you were everywhere all at once, laughing and chatting with everyone. I followed you across the party, Tess. I had to be closer to you, to that sound—I needed to be near you—”

“The rules are simple: We’re friends who fuck to feel good. You can’t offer more. I’m not taking more. I’m asking you, as your friend, if you’d like to orgasm on my face. Say yes, and I’ll even let you pick which episode of SOA we watch after.” Oh my god, I’m dead. Here lies Tess, passed away from too much sexual tension.

“Tess Michelle Owens, are you asking me to do butt stuff with you in Ilmari Price’s sauna?”