Pucking Strong: An MM Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 4)

Just as I’m about to slink away from this table and check to see if Henrik dined and freaking dashed on me, he and Mars come striding back across the bar. Henrik is in front, carrying a tray of what looks like shots.

“Oh god,” I mutter, eyes wide.

“Hey, there they are,” calls Jake.

“We thought maybe you both fell in,” Novy teases. “Is that bathroom actually in Japan?”

Caleb eyes the tray warily. “Oh, what the fuck are those?”

“Make room,” says Henrik, wielding the tray of shots. Novy and Caleb scramble to shuffle the plates and baskets aside.

Jake leans back, catching a basket before it falls off the table. “I didn’t know this was that kind of party. Someone wanna explain?”

Henrik slips back onto his stool and starts passing out a round of shots. “We’re celebrating.”

Novy takes his shot. “Celebrating what? Don’t get me wrong, I’m always down for shots. Just tell me why. Is it Arbor Day or something?”

“Arbor Day is in April,” says Caleb.

Novy glares across the table at him. “Can you fucking not?”

Caleb raises both hands, leaning away.

“This one’s for you, Aarre,” Mars says at him, sliding him a shot glass.

Caleb takes it.

“Just club soda,” Ilmari adds, kissing his cheek. Then he reaches forward and takes a shot offered by Henrik with a soft word of thanks in Swedish.

Now, everyone’s eyes go wide.

“Okay, what the fuck?” says Jake. “What is going on? Mars, you don’t drink.”

“I do tonight,” he replies.

Novy sniffs his shot. “Why? What are we celebrating? Wait, is this sake?”

“Yeah, they didn’t have schnapps,” says Henrik. “But this will work the same.”

He finally hands me a shot. Then he surprises me by cupping my cheek. The touch is so gentle, almost loving. He smiles at me, and my heart does a freaking backflip. Then he turns to the group. “As you all know, shortly before the season started, I had the honor and privilege of making Teddy my husband.”

“Here, here,” says Morrow, raising his shot.

“Poor bastard,” adds Novy, and the others laugh.

Henrik drops his hand to my shoulder. “Teddy was there for me in a profound moment of grief. I lost my sister, my best friend. Everyone here knows what it feels like to lose, or think you’re about to lose, someone precious to you.”

The mood at the table sobers in an instant. I watch as Novy places a hand on Morrow’s knee. Across the table, Jake wraps an arm around Caleb’s shoulder.

“But in that darkness,” Henrik goes on, “Teddy was the light. He guided me back to life, back to living. The rings we wear became a tether. So long as I have him, I can keep fighting.”

“I picked those rings,” Novy fake whispers, making the other guys smile.

Tears burn my eyes as Henrik looks to me again. Then he clears his throat, turning back to the table. “In all the chaos of the last several weeks, there’s been no time to pause and celebrate our marriage. Typically, in Sweden, a wedding reception would begin with a toast.”

“Yes!” Jake is smiling from ear to ear. “Ohmygod, this is gonna be so fun. Do we get to give the toasts? As team captain, I get to go first, right? Can we use props?”

We all laugh.

“Ilmari had a good idea,” Henrik says. “He thought it might be fun to bring a little of my Swedish culture to this moment, as a nod to where our story began.”

“It’s perfect,” I say through my tears.

Novy pounds his fist on the table. “Teddy loves it! What do we need to do? Is there a Swedish toast we can learn? Isn’t it just ‘Skål’ or something?”

Henrik lifts up his own shot. “I’m going to teach you all a snapsvisa.”

“I heard the word ‘schnapps,’” says Jake.

The guys all laugh again.

Henrik smiles. “I’m going to teach you a Swedish drinking song.”

Fifteen minutes later, we’ve drawn the attention of most of the patrons in this restaurant as we collectively lose our shit, laughing and trying to sing this damn drinking song in Swedish.

Jake slaps his hand on the table. “Wait, wait, wait. One more time—”

“Come on,” Caleb groans.

“Boo!” Novy shouts.

Morrow and I just laugh.

Ilmari mutters something in Swedish that has him and Henrik smirking.

“I’ve almost got it,” says Jake. “It’s the last line. Just do the last line again.”

Taking a deep breath, Henrik holds up his shot glass and chants, “Han heller inte halvan får.”

Jake repeats it twice under his breath as the rest of us laugh again. “Okay! Alright, I got it. Let’s go.”

Henrik holds up his shot glass a little higher. “Ready?”

“We’re ready,” says Morrow.

“Let’s fucking do this,” Novy shouts.

“Wait—” Jake’s eyes are wide as he stares down the table. “Mars, you’re really gonna do a shot with us?”

At my left, Mars is holding up his shot glass. “If I’m singing ‘Helan Går,’ I’m taking a real fucking shot.”

Cheers go up around the table as he looks to Henrik and nods.

Henrik pounds his fist on the table. “Right. This is for Teddy O’Connor, my husband, min kärlek, mitt allt … and the best-looking man in any room!”

Novy lowers his glass an inch. “Hey now—”

Henrik launches into the song, and this time we all sing along. To either side of me, Henrik and Mars both have rich, baritone voices. The words flow off their tongues with ease. I’ll admit, I just feel like I’m along for this wild ride. The whole restaurant turns to watch us as we sing at the top of our lungs:

“Helan går,

Sjung hopp faderallan lallan lej

Helan går,

Sjung hopp faderallan lej.”

Then comes the tongue twister that has us all gasping for breath:

“Och den som inte helan tar,

Han heller inte halvan får.

Helan gååååår!!!!”

As we hold out the last note, drumming the table with our free hands, Henrik holds his glass high. “Now, drink!”

As one, we all down our shots of sake, slamming our empty cups onto the table.

With a wave of Henrik’s hand, we finish the song with one more chant of, “Sjung hopp faderallan lej!”

All around the restaurant, the other patrons cheer for us. Some shout their congratulations. Several of them have their phones out, taking pictures and videos. I know our trusty voyeur is doing his job. Surprising the heck out of me, Henrik leans over and kisses me right on the lips. “Well done, min älskade.”

I’m smiling, breathless, high on this moment. Not wanting him to get away so quickly, I wrap my hand around his neck and pull him back to me, kissing the taste of the sake from his lips while our friends all pound their fists on the table and cheer.

Two hours later, we stumble out of the elevator, nearly tripping each other as we try to kiss and walk at the same time. I’m drunk, but I don’t care. Henrik is in my arms. He’s alive and kissing me, and I never want him to stop. He backs me up against the door, my ass slamming into the doorknob, as he fumbles and drops his keys to the floor.

“Fan i helvete,” he mutters.

Okay, maybe he’s a little tipsy too. By the end of the night, I lost track of how many times we actually sang “Helan Går.” Things really got out of hand when our waitress, Kiko, taught us a Japanese drinking song. Caleb called us all Ubers, piling his drunk husbands into the back of their truck. Henrik and I kissed all the way back to the apartment. Now his English translator seems to be on the fritz. He mumbles something in Swedish, looking for his keys.

“Leave them,” I pant, tugging on his shoulder. “Just fucking kiss me.”

Abandoning his hunt, Henrik rights himself. Pressing in with his hips, he pins me to the door. I groan with aching need, my hands fisting tight to his shirt as I pull him to me. Our lips meet, and we both just sink into each other, taking what we need.

It’s not air. It’s certainly not more fucking sake. I just need more of him. More of this taste. More of the feel of him. I want us naked. Undone. I want him pressing me down, making me bear his weight, as he claims me again and again. Fuck, I want him to ruin me more than I’m already ruined. I am so lost to this man.

But we can’t do any of that in this hallway.

With a groan, I break our kiss. “Baby, get the keys.”

“Va?”

“Keys, Henrik. Keys for door. Come on, I don’t speak enough Swedish for this.”

Swaying slighting, Henrik steps back, once again searching for his keys on the floor.

I hear a click, but I’m too tipsy to register what it means. The front door swings open from the inside, and I go falling backwards.

“Teddy!” Hanna shrieks.

I’d like to say I catch myself, but that would be a lie. I land on my back on the entry rug, staring up at a shocked and dismayed Hanna.

“I’m so sorry!” She reaches for me with both hands. “I heard a noise. I thought maybe you forgot your keys!”

“Found them,” says Henrik, holding up his key ring. He finds me on the floor and lifts a confused brow. “What are you doing on the floor, mitt hjärta?”

Hanna giggles, helping me to my feet. “Seems like you two had a nice time tonight.”

I slip my shoes off, leaving them by the door. “Henrik taught us all a snapsvisa.”

“Uh-oh.” She steps back, holding the door as Henrik enters. “Do you need me to stay the night?”

“Not necessary,” I reply with a wave, stumbling my drunk ass towards the kitchen.

Henrik says something in Swedish.

“English, babe,” I call over my shoulder.

Hanna laughs. “Actually, I speak Swedish, remember?”

I just groan. “Why does everyone speak Swedish but me?”

Over by the door, Henrik now seems to be having trouble removing his shoes.

Hanna just smiles. “Well, you both seem good. So, I’m gonna go. Have a great rest of your night, okay? Maybe take some aspirin.”

“I’m gonna make us some coffee,” I call from the kitchen. “We’ll be totally sober in, like, an hour.” She stifles a giggle that has me turning towards her. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” she says with a wave. “Just, Henrik said almost the exact same thing in Swedish just now. You two enjoy the rest of your night.”

I’m busy stuffing coffee grounds into the brew basket when I hear the front door finally shut. I set a mug on the cup rest and press the On button. The machine hums to life just as Henrik steps in behind me, pressing me to the counter with his hips. “I don’t want coffee,” he growls in my ear, his hands wrapping possessively around me to splay across my chest.

“You will,” I assure him, patting his arm. “In about thirty minutes, when this warm cloud of drunkenness wears off and the sake headache sets in.”

He groans, pressing his face to my neck. “Then we still have thirty minutes.”

I grab his wrists and squeeze. “Not here.”

“Tell me where.”

The command in his tone sends a shiver through me. Taking his hand, I lead him deeper into the back of the apartment. Call me paranoid, but this would be the perfect moment for our niece to wake up and come rolling into the damn living room on her new puppy scooter.

Henrik looks around as we walk into the bedroom. “I thought you said no bed?”

“Just come with me.” Feeling confident in my drunken mobility, I turn, walking backwards through the bathroom and into the closet. The lights blink on, illuminating Henrik’s gorgeous rows of designer suits. Other lights glow in the cubbies for his shoes, dress shirts, denim, and sweaters. “You started something earlier in here,” I tease, backing until I press myself up against the shelf of sweaters. “Come finish it.”

Wasting no time, Henrik boxes me in. One hand grips the shelf by my head while the other cups my face as he kisses me, parting my lips with his tongue. I sigh into the kiss. Fuck, he’s so good at this. He may not have had much practice, but he’s a quick study. His kisses are soft and firm at the same time. Deliberate. He likes to change his approach, learning my reactions when he nips at my lips or flicks with his tongue.

Desperate for more, I slip my hands under his shirt. It’s a short-sleeve linen button-down. The top of the collar is open, showing just a hint of that chest hair he was teasing me with earlier. He groans as my hands brush over the warm skin of his stomach. He’s like a furnace. I’ve noticed that when we sleep too. His metabolism is so high, always working in overdrive. He’s like my own personal sun.

Not for the first time, I accept that I’m the Icarus in this relationship. I don’t know when, and I don’t know how, but I’m going to fall. Harder than I’ve already fallen for him. In this moment, there’s only one thing I want: I want to fall to my knees. Brushing my lips to his, I push him gently away. “Do you want more?”

He opens his eyes, panting for breath. “Vad?”

I smile against his mouth, wrapping my hands around to stroke the small of his back. “Do you want more, baby? Do you want me to make you feel good?”

“Teddy.” He says my name like a plea.

I drop my hands to the top of his pants, making my intentions clear. “I wanna make you feel so fucking good. Do you trust me?”

Holding my gaze, he nods.

We keep our eyes locked on each other as I undo his belt. “Say stop, and it stops, okay?”

He nods again.

“Teach me in Swedish.” I press a kiss to his lips. “Teach me, baby. Say ‘stop.’”

With one hand, he cups my face. “Sluta.”

My drunken brain tattoos it to my memory. “Easy enough. Say it in English or Swedish, and it all stops.”

He kisses me again. “Don’t stop.” As if to prove his eagerness, he drops his hands to my shoulders and pushes gently, guiding me down to my knees.

My senses are going haywire. I’m on my knees in Henrik Karlsson’s closet, and I’m unbuttoning his pants. I’m about to suck his dick. Gazing up at him, I slowly work his zipper, opening his fly. Then my fingers hook into the top of his khakis, and I pull them down around his muscled thighs.noveldrama

His hardness is right there, waiting for me. Henrik is hard for me. He wants me. I can’t wait another second for what I want. I press my face to his crotch over his briefs, breathing him in. The scent of his raw, masculine energy has me dripping in my pants. Fuck, he smells so good.

Grabbing his hips tight with both hands, I nuzzle his crotch, letting my parted lips brush over his shaft through the fabric of his briefs. He groans, sinking back against the closet shelf. “Teddy … tell me what to do.”

I smile up at him, cupping him with my hand over his briefs. He twitches with eagerness. I can see it in his eyes. I feel it in his touch. He wants more. Knowing it has me flying. “You don’t have to do a thing. Just feel it all, baby. And enjoy.”

Hooking my fingers into the top of his briefs, I slowly pull them down, freeing his cock. It hangs in my face, uncut and ready. Fuck, it’s so beautiful. I’ve waited for this for so long, and here it is, hard and aching, already dripping for me. I just know that getting him off is gonna get me off harder than I’ve ever come in my life.

But this isn’t about my pleasure. This moment is all about pleasing Henrik, showing him how this can feel. Holding to his hips, I do the thing I’ve been dreaming of doing for six long years. Eyes closed in bliss, I lick along his cut V-line from above his hip, down to his crotch. Pressing my face into the soft thatch of his pubic hair, I breathe him in again.

Henrik groans, one hand dropping down to fist my hair tightly. “Sluta inte.”

“What?”

“Don’t stop.”