Puck Me Secretly (A Vancouver Wolves Hockey Romance Book 1)
Puck Me Secretly: Chapter 3

BANG.

Disoriented, I woke up with a dry cotton mouth. I reached for my bottle of water and turned on the screen that displayed our location. We were 36,000 feet above North Dakota.

Max’s seat was empty. I got up to pull my iPad out of my bag. Once reseated, I craned my head, peering over the seats. I caught sight of Max’s navy-blue shirt at the front. He stood a full head above the flight attendant, who seemed to be more than enjoying her conversation with him. Her head tilted back so she could stare at his face. Now her fingers fluttered at her neck. He touched her arm and walked back towards our seats.

I said nothing when he settled down beside me.

“You’re awake.”

It surprised me he was the one starting the conversation between us. “Yes.”

“So, why did you date those guys?”

“Which guys?”

“The chess players. The babies.”

“The Baby Men?” I chugged my water. “They’re sweet guys. I had one boyfriend who liked to show up at my apartment with a picnic basket of treats, a bottle of wine and a candle.”

Max made a noise that sounded like a derisive snort. “You’re kidding.”

“What? Chicks dig that kind of thing. Baby Men make great boyfriends. They’re sensitive, compassionate souls.”

“Stop.” Laughter traced his voice.

“What?”

“No one buys that bullshit that chicks want the sensitive man.”

“Speak for yourself.”

He leaned forward so he could watch my face. “Chicks don’t want sensitive guys, they want…”

“Bossy men?”

He shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

Alpha. Bossy. Dominating. Hot. Take charge. Man’s man.

Yeah, there were a lot of other words for bossy, but I didn’t want to flatter his ego. “Unlike other women, I’m not interested in the ‘take charge’ guy. I want my boyfriends to talk about their feelings.”

“Come on.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Women think they want men to talk about their feelings, but they don’t.”

“That’s not true and I can prove it to you.”

“How?”

“Why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling right now?”

“You don’t want to know.” He leaned back in his seat.

“That’s not true,” I took my turn to lean forward so I could stare up at his face. The idea of this big man sharing his feelings captivated me. “Tell me.”

“You can’t handle it.”

This conversation was intoxicating. “Yes, I can. It’s easy. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

His eyes narrowed on my face. “Okay. I feel horny. Horny enough that I’m debating picking someone up.”

My entire face flushed while my traitorous stomach did a slow flop. “You’re planning on taking someone home with you?”

He shrugged. “Or take them to a closet to have a quick fuck.”

My brain struggled to compute what he was telling me. In animated detail, I pictured him and the flight attendant slipping into some closet. There would be no foreplay. He’d drop trou, and they’d wildly fuck. It pissed me off that jealousy snaked through my stomach.

“This conversation is over.” I turned my face away to hide my flushed cheeks.

He laughed. “Told you.”

“Told me what!”

“You don’t want to talk about a man’s feelings.”

I turned back to him. “Those aren’t feelings. Those are…”

“Are what?” His gaze was on my mouth, distracting me.

“Those are base instincts. Like hunger or fatigue. Those aren’t emotions.”

“You said nothing about emotions, you asked about my feelings.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“I feel like fucking,” he teased, and my stomach clenched hard at those words. I hated that he was turning me on.

“You’re the perfect example of why I only date Baby Men.”

His face broke into a hot smile. “You only think you want those guys.”

“No,” I stopped him. “I want them. The more sensitive the better.”

A loud bang sounded. I turned to peer out the window. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Another considerable bang sounded, and the plane lurched to the left. I slid across my seat toward the window. Some passengers cried out, but the aircraft righted itself.

“Are you okay?”

My heart pounded in my chest. “Yes.”

We watched as a flight attendant half-walked, half-ran up the aisle.

“Is that normal?”

“It’s fine.” He spoke a moment before the plane lurched a second time. Hard.

The seat belt lights went on.

Ding. Ding.

Ding. Ding.

“Oh God,” I chanted between cold lips.

People around us chattered in an anxious tone. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

A female voice spoke over the speaker. “Ladies and gentlemen. Please fasten your seatbelts now. I repeat, fasten your seatbelts. Do not get out of your seats.”

I realized that my seatbelt was not on. Worse, I had only one half of my belt.

“My seatbelt,” I pawed frantically for the other half. “It’s gone. I need it. Where is it!”

A big hand dug under my ass and then he held up the other half of my belt. With shaking hands, I secured it around my waist.

“It’s turbulence.” Max craned his neck, watching over the seat ahead of him. He seemed alert, not scared.

The plane whined as it tipped forward, so much so that we braced ourselves against the seats in front of us. The faint scent of burning rubber wafted in the air.

A thought pierced through my panic. I needed my life vest. I reached beneath my seat, pulled up the plastic square and ripped it open. I struggled to unfold it and pull it over my head.

Max watched. “We’re not over water. You don’t need that.”

“We could land in a lake or go off course and hit the ocean.”

I fumbled with the strings and yanked them hard. A loud hiss deafened me, as the vest billowed with air, imprisoning my head in a rock-hard vise grip. I clawed at the vest, trying to pull it off my head, but it suctioned around my neck like an evil yellow plastic serpent.

“Get it off, get it off me!”

“Rory.”

“Please, Max, please,” I begged, turning my eyes towards him.

“Hold still,” he instructed. His face loomed in front of mine, so close I could smell his minty breath and a hint of orange. He tugged at the vest until he figured out how to deflate it. We didn’t speak as he pressed on the plastic while air hissed around my face. Finally, it was deflated enough that I could squeeze it off. I threw it on the floor.

“Better?”

Another bang and the plane pitched nose forward. It reminded me of a rollercoaster.

“I wrecked my vest! Now I’ll drown.”

He laughed. No sane person laughs when their plane is crashing!

“It’s not funny.” I tasted salty tears on my lips.

“Sorry, you want mine?” His sympathy appeased me.

I turned to him, my eyes wide. “What will you use?”

“I can swim.”

I swallowed my guilt. “You sure?”

He reached beneath his seat and I watched as he unwrapped the vest. “Don’t inflate it until you get out of the plane.”

My frantic fingers touched the flat crunchy plastic that I wore around my neck like an ugly necklace. “This is so bad. I had a terrible premonition getting on this plane. Why don’t I ever take my gut serious?”

The plane jostled so hard my teeth rattled. People shrieked when the baggage bins flapped open and bags rained down. A male voice behind us chanted the Lord’s prayer.

I pressed back in my chair, my fingers like claws around the armrests. This was it. I would die.

“I should’ve known this would happen. Since I was a kid. I haven’t been able to get on a plane. It’s like I knew. It was a premonition. And I overrode my fears. Now we will all pay for that!”

“Rory,” Max put his face in front of mine. “Calm down!”

“We are going to die!”

“Shhhh,” he soothed. “We’re not going to die.”

A ding sounded and above our heads, oxygen masks dropped from the ceilings. Gasps of horror and cries sounded around us.

Except mine didn’t drop. A single mask hung in front of Max’s face.

“Where’s my mask?” I frantically twisted in my seat. “Help! Help! My mask didn’t drop!”

No one paid me any attention. Everyone was putting their masks on.

“What do I do? What do I do!?”

“Hang on.” Max leaned over towards me, his arms above my head. “It got coiled around something.”

My mask dropped in front of my face. Too late. I was already hyperventilating.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

He tilted my head back and something cold covered my mouth.

“Take a deep breath,” he instructed. I sucked in air that smelled like plastic.

The whole plane trembled.

A female voice, quaking with fear, instructed us over the loudspeaker.

“Brace, brace, brace. Head down. Stay down.”

“Brace, brace, brace. Head down. Stay down.”

We were going to die!

Max’s large warm hand pushed me forward so my head pressed between my knees. The whine of the plane intensified.

I turned towards Max. Too big to put his head between his legs, he leaned forward and braced his head against the seat in front of him. Our eyes met.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

People screamed and cried.

The flight attendant chanted out the same instructions.

The plane’s engines howled outside the window.

“Where are the exits, gorgeous?”

“What?” I cried, my voice muffled by the mask.

“Where are the exits?”

Why was he so composed?

“There’s one at the front and two emergency exits in row 11 but I don’t want to die. I’ve never been in love.”

“No one’s going to die.”

I babbled like a mad person. “I wanted to give my art a real chance. I want to have kids one day. And I haven’t had a real orgasm with a guy.”

His blue eyes widened.

Behind me, a woman sounded like she was being murdered. Her scream chilled my blood.

I craned my head back to see her.

He reached over and pushed my head back down. “Tell me why you’ve never come during sex.”

“What!?”

“Keep talking. Focus on my face.”

Fear kept the words flowing. “All my friends talk about these great sexual moments, but something is wrong with me. I had to fake it with all the Baby Men. Every single time. I’ve never told anyone this, but I think something is wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you. Blame the baby boyfriends.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I know I could make you come in two minutes flat.”

“The point is,” I licked my salty lips, “Is that I won’t have that chance. Because our plane is crashing. This is it. I missed my chance.”

The plane jostled so hard, I feared my seat would rip off the floor.

I whimpered. His big hand returned to the back of my neck. Comforting me.

Our eyes met.

“You’re nice.”

“Not really.

“I’m glad you’re here in my final moments.”

“Don’t think about that, sweetheart. Think about anything but that.”

This was the end of my life. Shouldn’t I be experiencing a profound flashback of my life? That movie reel when everything important floats in front of my eyes? Instead, all I could focus on what how dark and long Max’s eyelashes were.

We stared at each other. I saw no fear in his eyes, only resignation. Who was he? Why was he so calm? Did he actually think he could make me have an orgasm?

I wanted to know. Stupid really, but who can predict your last thoughts.

“How do you know you could make me orgasm?”

He held my gaze. “I know how to fuck.”

“But how do you know women weren’t faking it with you?”

His eyes narrowed and his face, from beneath his mask, broke out into a huge smile. “Are you for real?”

“I faked it with my boyfriends.”

“Trust me, I could get you off.”

The jet engines drone deafened. Around us, people cried, sobbed, screamed.

It might sound stupid, but as long as I never let my eye contact break with Max, I was immune to that horror. We refused to focus on our impending deaths. Instead, we focused on sex. With each other. It reminded me of flirting with a cute guy at the bar and the whole place disappears except him.

Part of my brain understood how stupid this was, but I didn’t want to have my final moments cluttered with adrenaline and debilitating fear.

This weird flirting made me feel good. And I wanted my ending to be nice.

“If we survive, I will let you.”

His gaze held mine, but he didn’t speak.

“Only if you want.” My face burned.

Blue eyes crinkled in amusement. “It’d be my honor.”

“Really?”

His big hand squeezed my neck.

Except we were lying to ourselves and each other.

Reality has a way of squeezing in. Our plane was crashing, and we were all going to die.

My eyes clung to his gaze. I didn’t want my ending to hurt. I preferred for it to be instantaneous. One minute you’re alive and then you’re not. “Do you think this will hurt?”

The noise around us was so big, so life threatening, I almost couldn’t hear his voice. “No. It won’t hurt.”

I faced death. A calm sadness overwhelmed me as I mourned everything I had missed.

We stared at each other. His face was so beautiful. I wanted to memorize that face. I wanted to live. I wanted to go back in time and not get on this fucking plane.

“This sucks so bad,” I spoke as everything faded to black.

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