Behind the Net (Vancouver Storm, #1)

by Stephanie Archer

He’s so much hotter grown up. And in person? It’s actually unfair. His frame fills the doorway. He’s a foot taller than me, and even under his long-sleeved workout shirt, his body is perfection. The thin fabric stretches over his broad shoulders. I’m vaguely aware of a dog barking and racing around the apartment behind him, but my gaze follows his movement as he props a hand on the doorframe. His sleeves are pushed up, and my gaze lingers on his forearm. Jamie Streicher’s forearms could get a woman pregnant.

Pippa Hartley is standing in my living room, playing with the dog, and I can’t breathe. When I opened the door, I thought I was hallucinating. Her hair is longer. Same shy smile, same sparkling blue-gray eyes that make me forget my own name. Same soft, musical voice that I’d strain to hear back in high school while she was talking and laughing with the other band kids.

Grown up, though, she’s fucking gorgeous. A knockout. Freckles over her nose and cheekbones from the summer sun and strands of gold in her caramel hair that’s neither brown nor blond. Although her braces were cute back in high school, her smile today nearly stopped my heart.

I can’t fucking think around Pippa Hartley. It’s always been like this.

My pulse races at the idea of telling off Jamie Streicher. I’m sick of getting stepped on by men.

I picture him physically removing me from his home, throwing me over his shoulder. A weird twinge hits me between the legs. Oh. I like that idea.

Mascara runs down Pippa’s face. She’s been crying? Pain shocks my chest, but her eyes are clear and her hair is soaked, bangs sticking to her forehead, and my chest muscles ease. At the sight of me, she straightens up, nostrils flaring. In the back of my mind, I notice how cute that is.

Of course they let her up. This woman could talk a cop into handing over his gun. All she’d have to do is smile and flick her ponytail, and he’d be like, you want the bullets, too? There’s a weird, funny pressure in my chest, and for the first time in so long, I feel the urge to smile.

There’s no way I can tell her the truth—that she’s the girl I was obsessed with for two years in high school. And everything she said? She’s right. I like the way she set up my apartment. She tired Daisy out yesterday more than I could have. I can already tell this dog needs a ton of mental stimulation as well as physical exercise. Deep down, I trust her with this dog.

Her face is going bright red. Her toenails are painted mint green. Why is that so fucking cute?

I grin so hard. Jamie’s mom is so nice and cute, and she’s so proud of him.

An image flashes in my head—him unwinding in a different way. Standing in the shower, late at night, one hand on the shower tiles as water rolls down his perfect, chiseled chest and abs, the other hand fisting his cock. I bet his lips would part and he’d wear a tortured expression as he came.

He’s totally out of my league, and I’ve been burned by guys on his level before. I shouldn’t want to fuck Jamie, but I really, really do.

It’s been like this all week. I can’t get one particular thought out of my head. I really, really want to fuck my pretty assistant.

Fuck. I’m breathing hard, staring at the ceiling, wishing it was Pippa I just came all over instead of myself.

My voice is firm and demanding. I’m a pushy, arrogant dick, but I don’t care.

His eyes flash with heat. “That was fucking amazing.” His hand comes to the back of my neck and he drags my mouth to his.

Anger drips into my blood, but I don’t let it show. I bet no one fucking said wow, so soon to Zach and his new friend.

It feels good to be someone more than the girl who got stepped on. “That’s not the ultimate revenge,” I say softly. His dark eyes meet mine, pinning me. His jaw ticks. My mouth curves into a smile, and I don’t even recognize myself right now. “The ultimate revenge would be fucking you.”

“What’s your preference?” I have a feeling that whatever Jamie said, my dad would run to the store to buy it right now.

Yep. There it is, but instead of in the front window of the guitar store, it’s sitting on the table.

It’s so beautiful, but it’s more than that. This guitar is something I thought I couldn’t have, and yet, here it is. My eyes well up with emotion and I blink fast to clear them.

“It’s too...

I can’t look at him. If I look at him, I’ll cry. Or kiss ...

“It’s not too...

“It’s too exp...

My feelings for him grow by the second, expanding...

“Pi...

His voice is firm, leaving no ...

“I’d buy you every guitar in the city if I though...

Shit. This guy’s going to break my go...

Seeing her up there, it’s so obvious: I’m head over fucking heels for this girl, and I have been for a long time. A lot longer than I realized.

Pippa Hartley has me wrapped around her little finger. I’ll do anything for her, and I’m not even mad about it. I want to do terrible things to her, make her come with my mouth and my hands and my cock, make her scream my name and show her how fucking incredible sex can be. I know sinking into her tight, wet pussy is going to change my life. It’s not just the sex, though. I want to wake up with her, spend free evenings watching a movie on the couch, and go for walks in the woods with Daisy.

I’m always encouraging Pippa to be brave, and now it’s time I take a fucking page out of my own book.

“I have feelings for you, songbird.” My heart pounds, and the rest of the bar falls away. “I like you so fucking much. I don’t want to pretend I don’t anymore. I flew out here for you.”

Something has shifted in my chest, locked into place. This is right. This is the way it’s supposed to be. I thought about her for all those years, and we found our way back to each other.

Her frustrated glare makes me shake with laughter. I’ve never laughed during sex. My songbird is horny and furious, and I’m in heaven. In this moment, I feel like she’s my best friend, and yet I’m rock hard, thinking about pleasing her. Sex has never been so playful, and I can’t think of another time I felt so comfortable around someone. This is what it’s supposed to be like, I realize.

She’s perfect, my Pippa.

I love this girl. I’m not ready to tell her, because it feels dangerous and risky, and more than anything, I want what I have with Pippa to last. I can’t tell her that I love her, but I can show her.

“I love you so fucking much, Pippa. I’m in love with you. I want everything with you.”

My Pippa. My distraction, the girl I’ve always been powerless against.

Pippa isn’t just the love of my life; she’s my family.