Page 23 of Mother Pucker

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Page 23 of Mother Pucker

I’ve already won.

Epilogue

ERIK

Summer is coming.

No matter how long I live here, I’ll never get used to summers in Texas. I’m not even sure it’s possible to acclimate to this. It’s only May, but the heat is stagnant and oppressive, the air heavy with precipitation.

I’m sitting on the porch swing, watching the day come to life. The sun hasn’t quite crested the horizon yet, but the morning is already muggy and warm. There’s a hazy filter of humidity distorting the first rays of sunrise. By lunch, the blue sponge of sky will have no choice but to wring out overhead.

In the distance, thunder rumbles right on cue.

Summer in the South is more of an endurance test than a season.

“Looks like rain.” Payton echoes my thoughts from the doorway. “Should cool off a little later.”

She’s standing in the archway of the front door, illuminated by the first rays of the rising sun.

“Scooch over,” she pads across the wide floorboards in her bare feet before snuggling next to me. “What time is it, anyway?”

Payton is always beautiful, but I especially love seeing her like this— first thing in the morning, with her hair tousled from sleep and our lovemaking. Her platinum strands fall haphazardly over one heavy-lidded eye, catching streaks of the pink and purple sunrise. It gives her an ethereal glow in the morning light. She’s pressed against me on the rattan porch swing, close enough to feel the warmth of sleep still clinging to her body. She smells like clean sweat and laundry detergent.

“Just after five.” I wrap one arm around Payton and pull her in close. “Did I wake you?”

She’s wearing one of my old jerseys. The silky material drapes off one shoulder to reveal the sculpted blade of her collarbone. I drop a soft kiss on the spot, thrilling at the way she purrs appreciatively against me. Payton is the most responsive woman I’ve ever met. The slightest brush of my fingertips against her skin is enough to elicit the throaty sounds of desire that I’ve come to crave like my next breath.

“Nope,” Payton shakes her head. “The bed’s too big without you in it.”

Her sleepy smile lights a protective, possessive fire in my chest. I don’t drink or do drugs, but one hit of Payton was all it took to develop a crippling addiction. Nothing has ever felt more right, more perfect, than this moment. I want to spend every morning for the rest of my life right here, watching the sun come up with Payton by my side.

“Figured you’d want to sleep in after the workout you got last night,” I tease her. “Especially since we have to go back to the real world tomorrow.”

Payton’s laugh dissolves into a stifled groan.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she burrows her head into the side of my neck. “I’m exhausted just thinking about the next couple of weeks.”

Just beyond the gates that separate the residential center from the rest of the campus, The Nest is coming to life. With finals starting soon, the grounds have been a whirlwind of activity lately. A record-breaking season was enough to earn The Snowhawks home-ice advantage for game one.

That means that for both Payton and I, the busiest two weeks of the season start tomorrow.

Our schedules are packed. It’s an endless cycle of press events, interviews, and training. The excitement on campus is palpable.

“Guess that means I should head back to my place.” Payton’s smile twists into a grimace. “I’ve probably got five hundred unread emails.”

She smiles at me, eyes bright with love and pride.

“And you need to get ready for Game One. Have you decided where you’re going to put your MVP trophy?”

Payton is my biggest fan. More than that— she’s also my best friend and fiercest competition.

“Don’t go, Payton.” I stand up, turning to face her. “Everything's better when you’re with me.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up into a sexy smile as Payton remembers the last time I said those words to her.

We were in the gym then, not here on my front porch. But the words are more true today than ever.

Those first days of the season feel like a lifetime ago now. I’ll never forget the way Payton charged after me, determined to help me despite my stubborn refusal to admit I was hurting at all.




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