Page 14 of The Pucking Fake Marriage (The Ice Kings #4)

THIRTEEN

GIVING THANKS (KEN)

Even though I haven’t seen my childhood home in almost four years, everything looks the same, down to the spot the turkey is placed on the kitchen table. Hell, it looks like I might’ve just stepped out after the last Thanksgiving I attended and came right back.

“You look amazing, Mom,” I say as I come down the stairs. She’s standing at the foot of them, her dark hair pulled in a tight ponytail, her trim body clad in an elegant jumpsuit. She looks stunning, having maintained her figure well into her sixties, same as my dad. They were both ballet dancers who met in a dance troupe.

Guess that’s why Kali always had a special place in their hearts.

“Did you comb your hair?” she reprimands, her brows furrowed. “I told you, we’re expecting visitors.”

I shrug. I’d barely listened to her speech yesterday, instructing me on how to behave on Thanksgiving Day. I’d just gotten in from the city. The last thing I wanted was to hear her order me around .

“The food looks good.” The view over the banister offers a great view of the Thanksgiving spread.

That comment seems to mollify her. “Come down,” she says. “I need your opinion on the gravy.”

I bite back a smile. Even after all this time, my mother and I still see eye-to-eye on food. It makes me remember just how many Thanksgiving dinners I cooked with her. There’s a strange tightening in my belly as I walk down the stairs, most likely due to thinking about Kali. The remnant of my childhood jealousy is rearing its head. He and my mom bonded over almost everything.

She scoops up a portion of the gravy with a spoon, and I give it a lick. “It’s perfect, Mom.” I can tell she knows it is. She’s a terrific cook, and everyone is aware. Hell, she inspired Charlie to open a restaurant.

Charlie. My gut tightens even more, and I realize the real reason I was so tense coming down the stairs. Our house’s staircase still sours my heart even after all these years. It’s the place where Charlie broke her ankle and ended her dancing career.

Her shoulders sag with relief. My mother has always trusted my cooking judgments. “And the turkey? Is it a little too brown?”

I note its golden shade. “It looks just right.”

Her face breaks into the first smile I’ve seen since I arrived, but it disappears when she looks up. “You should comb your hair,” she points out again, her tone snapping back to critical. “Really. Now.”

Bonding moment over.

I start to go back up toward my childhood bedroom, a sense of déjà vu hitting me with each step. Still, I’ve now got another prevailing thought to distract me from memories, and I sink into it gratefully .

Charlie: the whole damn reason I’m here.

Two weeks ago, we ended up having explosive sex in her kitchen. I hadn’t given much thought to what would happen after that. Neither had she. In that moment, we craved each other, and we went for it.

A lot of good things happened after. Charlie’s father is well on his way to remission, and she hasn’t had reason to worry about money for a while. Also, the restaurant now serves cinnamon buns. Coach Tanner hasn’t snarled any negative remarks about my game for a while now, and that’s good because we’re playing our biggest match of the season in a couple of weeks.

On the other hand, though, the air between Charlie and me has been tense. Damn near scorching. We’ve barely had time to speak over the past two weeks. On the few occasions we’ve crossed paths back at the apartment, things were…strange.

Hard to say what’s going on in Charlie’s head, because she’s almost completely closed off again. It’s much easier to figure out where my mind is at. In theory, at least. Because every time I think of what I did, I wonder what the hell got into me that night.

It wasn’t just my normal horny self. There was a primal, feral force within me, a beastly nature I didn’t think I had. I’d taken her, not holding back. The fact that Charlie welcomed it doesn’t make me any less conflicted about it. About how I caved and fucked her, even though I swore I’d keep my hands to myself.

As far as I could tell, she was goading me. I planned to hold on even if she did that, but I caved.

We still have a couple of months to go until we can stop being husband and wife. If we’re here already, there’s no telling how much farther we will crash. How much farther I will crash.

Charlie told me only a few days ago that she planned on going back to her parents’ home for the holiday. It was a suggestion I both hated and didn’t mind all at once. Both of us stuck in my apartment for a long weekend was not a good idea. But then, the alternative was for me to stay there all by myself, her scent hanging over the rooms and torturing me.

So, I opted to come home instead.

However, I’m already regretting it. I drag my comb through my hair. Hopefully I’ll manage to survive the next few days stuck here without being reckless.

Like sneaking across the hedges to see Charlie.

When I return downstairs, my father is at the head of the table. He gives me a clap on the back and asks about my stats as my mother begins to bring in the plates. I fill him in as briefly as I can. Still, I notice his eyes start to glaze over rather quickly. But at least he’s making the effort, bless his heart. He’s about the one man in the world who knows nothing about sports. Just my luck. If Kali were here right now talking about pirouettes or pas de bourrées, he’d be paying rapt attention.

As though she’s reading my thoughts, my mom mutters, “What I wouldn’t give to have Kali here right now. He’s always so fun around Thanksgiving.”

I resist the urge to scoff. All I remember about our Thanksgiving as children is Kali hijacking the holiday to treat the family to a dance in front of the TV. Always pissed me the fuck off. He already got a lot of attention every damn day for “inheriting the gift,” as my dad called it. He didn’t need any more.

“You’re doing a great job on the ice though,” my dad interjects. “I had some friends over last Sunday, and they were raving about you being the forward?—”

“Center .” I can’t believe that my father doesn’t know my position, even after all these years. Turning away from him, my mother has set three more places at the table. “Are we expecting guests?”

Before she can answer, there’s a knock on the door. My father flashes a grin at me before he stands up. “You’re going to enjoy this,” he says over his shoulder.

“You and Kali haven’t made it back home in years,” my mother says, glaring at me. “You don’t think we’ve been celebrating alone this whole time?”

Before I can respond, I hear the sound of my father opening the door. I turn around, and a brick wall forms in my chest.

Our next-door neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Chapman, are standing in the hallway.

With their daughter in tow.

I stand up, my heart racing wildly. Mrs. Chapman looks almost the same: prim and proper, foreboding, dressed in a stiff navy dress and pearls that greatly recall the Queen of England. A few more wrinkles on her face don’t hide the vibe of the coldest mother in town. She’s holding on rather tightly to a plastic food container. Mr. Chapman is his usual charming self, though I notice he’s a lot frailer than he was the last time I saw him.

My gaze sweeps over the couple for a second, before coming to rest on my wife .

I regret coming here a whole lot more than I did a few minutes ago when my mother was still hassling me about my hair. Charlie looks shell-shocked by this situation, and it couldn’t be more obvious that she wasn’t expecting to run into me here. Hell, I can tell by her dress. She’s squeezed herself into probably the most formal outfit she could find in her teenage closet, a plain navy dress with a square neck.

And when I say squeezed, I mean it literally. The garment manages to accommodate her new womanly curves, but only just. Her breasts are bursting out at the neckline, and the hem stops several inches above her knees. Her shiny black hair spills down her shoulders and back like a waterfall. She’s not wearing any makeup, but hell, she doesn’t need to. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Damn. Fucking damn.

It’s near impossible to not stare at her. My knees are about to give way. I don’t know how the hell I’m not falling at her feet right now.

I’m now wondering if Charlie’s got on the same kind of underwear she had back in her kitchen.

Fuck everything I decided about holding back.

I’ve got to have her now. Anywhere will do. In my childhood bedroom, in the bathroom, in the backyard, as long as…

“Ken?”

I start. My father was saying something to me, and I completely missed it. Pulling my gaze from the enchantress, I look at him. “What?”

“Charlie,” he cries, holding his arm out toward her. “Aren’t you glad to see her, finally? It’s been, what, ten years?”

Ten years. Of course. Our families still think we haven’t seen each other in a long time. They are expecting a different reaction, probably one that’s more like shock or surprise than disengaged silence.

I force my facial features into a smile. “Yeah. Ten years. Good to see you, Charlie.” She looks like a deer caught in headlights, a frantic expression dancing in her eyes. She’s silent. She doesn’t need to say anything before I realize what she wants me to do.

Crossing over to her, I pull her into a bear hug. Relieved laughter rings around the room from our fathers as she hugs me back. For a second, I wonder if I got the right message. But then she whispers, “Thanks,” as her arms wrap around my back.

Guess our ability to read each other’s minds wasn’t extinguished with our friendship. Or maybe being back in this house brings all that stuff back.

Charlie pulls away a second later, but not before the feel of her tits against my chest has started to stir my groin.

The next few hours are going to be hell.

My mother leads the way to the kitchen, already apologizing for the slightly overcooked turkey. Charlie’s mother nods primly—both women share similar perfectionism. She thrusts the plastic container toward my mother.

“Here. The yams. They are a little overdone.” She casts a very obvious glare at Charlie. “I had some help, and I couldn’t correct the damage.”

Charlie catches my gaze and rolls her eyes as her mother looks away. I grin back, strongly reminded of our teenage years. We spent a lot of time this way, being criticized by our parents and trading looks back and forth as Kali, the golden child, was showered with accolades. The strong sense of déjà vu that hits me now fills me with a different kind of longing. I kind of want to experience those moments again.

But then I also want to end tonight by tearing Charlie’s dress off her and having her ride my dick until morning.

My mother sits Charlie next to me, with her father on the other end of the table and the two older women across from us.

Great. As though the blaze in my veins wasn’t hot enough.

Standing up, my mother raises a glass of wine. “I’d like to start tonight by everyone sharing what they’re grateful for. And we can all drink to it.”

Of course, Mrs. Chapman goes first. “I’m grateful that my daughter finally has a job. We’ve been waiting for her to find something suitable ever since the fall. You know, the one that happened right here on these stairs.” It’s hard to tell if she’s blaming our family or her daughter for falling.

I feel Charlie stiffen beside me. “I have a job, Mom. I’ve had one ever since I recovered from my injury.”

“Running a restaurant in the red is not a job,” she says, downing her glass in one gulp.

“Ariel…” her father intervenes, his fingers kneading into his temple. “Don’t. We have a wonderful daughter, and she’s always made us proud.” My mother looks between the couple uncertainly and takes her seat.

Ariel Chapman looks doubtful. “Well, she’s starting to make us proud.”

A sickening feeling grows in my gut. Yeah, this has become way too familiar. Sitting around, watching Charlie become the punchline of the joke for no damn reason. We went through the exact experience as teenagers, and we managed to make it fun for ourselves.

There’s nothing funny here anymore.

“If she’s only started to make you proud now, I’d question your criteria for deeming your child successful.”

A strange chill descends on the table. My mother glares at me, and Ariel merely stares.

My father tries to break the tension. “We should start off with the yams.” He turns toward Mr. Chapman. “James, I was just telling Ken that we only just spoke about how good of a forward he is…”

“Center.” This time, it’s Charlie that corrects my father, seemingly automatically. I glance at her, and there’s a knowing, almost tired look in her eyes. This isn’t the first time she’s had to do that for me. Just like this isn’t the first time I’ve been furious at her mother’s statements. Still, there’s an almost pleading look in her eyes, one that warns me to back off from her mother.

The two men start to talk about hockey, James Chapman correcting my father and explaining, once again, the main details of the game. Ariel is still staring at me, no doubt waiting for another explosion. Before I can decide what to do, I feel Charlie’s slender fingers on my knee underneath the table.

I crash against my chair, my heart pounding so hard I can barely hear anything else around me. What her touch only serves to do is awaken the other fiery beast within me, the one that wants nothing more than to be with her. In her, to be precise. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, forcing myself to dwell on something else. Anything will do. But thinking about Charlie’s mother causes a different ember of flames to spike through me, one that makes my teen rage against her seem like childish annoyance.

I always felt overprotective of Charlie, but it’s way worse now. And not just because we’re older now and Ariel should have gotten tired of putting her daughter down. It’s because Charlie isn’t just my best friend or my brother’s girlfriend anymore. She’s my wife . No one at this table is aware of that, but damn it, she still is.

And I’m going to keep protecting her .

As the two men fall into a pointless discussion of politics, my mother leans over to Ariel and apologizes on my behalf. My stomach steels, but Charlie shoots me another glance, bidding me to stay quiet. Her hand is still on my knee, and I return her look with a raised brow, conveying what I feel with my eyes.

Your mother’s behavior is the only distraction I’ve got against thinking of how badly I want to fuck you right now.

She swallows hard, snatching her hand from my leg.

Looks like she got the message.

Half-amused, I turn back to the table. Teenage years were fun, but I much prefer this version of our life, one where I get to make her uncomfortable by reminding her how much we want each other.

Beats the four years I spent thinking she wanted Kali instead of me.

“Oh, that’s fine, Elizabeth.” Ariel’s response to my mother’s apology is so loud that everyone stops talking to look at her. “We all know Ken’s always had a little crush. Looks like it’s still the case, after all these years.”

“Mom,” Charlie protests, glaring at her mother.

“I’m joking .” Ariel rolls her eyes, as though she thinks her daughter is being overly sensitive. “Ken knows I’m joking. Right?”

Ariel’s jabs about my crush on Charlie are as old as our friendship. This time, though, I refuse to give the obligatory smile or chuckle. I stare back at her, unsmiling, the chill from my silence settling heavily over the table.

James, Charlie’s father, clears his throat awkwardly as he darts an anxious glance my way. “Ken has always loved Charlie as a sister, and we’re all grateful for that.”

Ariel downs another glass of wine, smirking. “Oh well. Call it motherly intuition. Ken always looked extra furious when Kali was around Charlie.”

“ Mom,” Charlie hisses again.

This would have been the kind of Thanksgiving conversation that evoked laughter and fond memories with another group of families. But this… I meet Ariel’s eyes, and the revelation dawns on me. Charlie’s mother isn’t just trying to joke around for the fun of it. I stood up to her because of Charlie, and she’s trying to make me pay for it.

Two can play at that game.

I grin back at her, my glass raised. “I did have a crush. A really big one. Good of you to remember.”

Charlie stiffens beside me, and my father lets out a cackle of uncomfortable laughter. Ariel suddenly looks uncertain, like she didn’t expect me to throw myself under the bus so willingly.

“Kali and Charlie made the perfect couple.” That comes from my mother now. Always eager to mention her dear Kali.

“Yes,” Ariel agrees, taking another sip of wine. “I sort of wonder what it would’ve been like if Kali and Charlie got married. We would’ve been in-laws, for one.”

The first comment in a while Ariel hasn’t directed toward me, and yet it’s the one that burns a sizzling hole in my belly. Imagining my brother doing the things to her that I did, that I still plan to do, is too much to bear. Particularly when I’m in the same house where I watched them be together for almost half a decade.

“Well, we’re not married.” Charlie’s voice cuts like a whip. It’s her first real contribution to the conversation. “That was a high school relationship, and it ended ten years ago.”

My mother looks thrown off, but Ariel flashes a knowing smile at her daughter. “I know, I know. Still, it’s fun to imagine, isn’t it?”

“Not really.” Charlie’s voice is even sharper now.

The sizzling in my belly grows louder. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she is still somewhat upset for losing Kali.

But damn it, I do know better. No way in hell she wants me this much and is still torn up over him.

“Oh, come off it, Charlotte.” Ariel waves her hand, dismissing her daughter. “Let your old parents have fun.”

Charlie says nothing. She merely resumes eating, and the conversation at the table gradually slips back into neighborhood issues.

I glance at Charlie. Something about how she’s sitting has caused her tits to be thrust out even further, half hanging out of her neckline. A desperate need seizes me, one that propels me into wanting to touch her, wanting to know for sure that Kali isn’t an unspoken ghost in her mind.

Turning back to my plate, I let myself revel in the irony for a second. I’d gone from putting Charlie behind me for a decade to worrying about Kali appearing in her life again. A visit to the past is all it took to bring that part of me back.

Without thinking, I let my fingers rest on her lap. Charlie reacts instantly, her body jerking forward on the chair. She meets my gaze, her eyes frantic and wide.

I ignore it. Frustration about this whole situation is piling up in me and has finally reached a breaking point. And damn it, I’m a saint for making myself hold back.

I drive my fingers upward, underneath her ridiculously tight dress, heading for her center. My fingers brush across the warm insides of her thighs, skating past them until I reach her core.

Charlie takes another deep breath, but she doesn’t move to stop me. I let myself feel her underwear. A fucking lacy, skimpy excuse for panties. A feeling of victory resounds deep in my skull as I look up at her. When she meets my gaze this time, the words in her eyes are clear.

She wore that for me . Hell, she probably wore the whole outfit with the hope she’d drive me mad enough to take her as soon as we had a chance.

That knowledge feels almost as good as an orgasm.

As our parents’ conversation flows above our heads, I curl a finger around the lace and push it to the side. Her entire body trembles as I rub my thumb over her clit. Her thighs squeeze my palm in between them, locking me in.

Another flush of victory threatens to overwhelm me.

Kali who?

I look sideways at her face. Her cheeks are reddened, there’s a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead, and her teeth are gritted, but there’s a sparkle of excitement dancing in her eyes.

Now, that look is one I haven’t seen in a while. She looks like the excited, mischievous girl I once knew. A girl who dared to test the boundaries and rebel.

Almost makes me forget the sheer recklessness of fingering her under the table in front of our families.

I glance up at our fathers, noting for a brief moment that James is still trying to teach my father about hockey. Before I can decide whether to hop into the conversation, I feel her fingers brushing against my erection.

Fuck. Me.

This girl is like all my fantasies rolled in one. I turn to her. She raises her brows at me, that excited spark in her eyes. It’s clear that she’s about to do something I’m going to hate and love all at once. A new wave of need spills over me, one that cannot—will not—be quenched by some under-the-table groping. I want to let her know that she’s got to meet me in the bathroom now.

“… tabloids say about Ken, though. Isn’t that right, Ken?”

I jerk toward my mother at the same moment I feel Charlie’s fingers fly off my dick. Withdrawing my fingers from her, I flash a pleasant smile, a perfect picture of innocence. Beside me, I sense rather than hear Charlie’s restrained giggle.

“Yeah?” I say to my mother, amusement bubbling in my throat. This is far from all the games we played on our parents as kids, but it also feels achingly familiar. As does sharing a laugh without even having to look at her in the face.

“We were just talking about your love life.” Ariel sounds annoyed that we weren’t listening.

Charlie’s amusement seems to die on the spot. “Mom, are you really going to keep going on about that?”

“Not yours, dear,” my mother says to her. “Ken’s. And Kali’s. Kali just broke up with that dancer—he still refuses to tell me why—and Ken is always being speculated about in the sports tabloids. But you’re not dating anyone now, are you, Ken?”

Charlie makes a small sound that’s somewhere between a snort and a giggle. No doubt she’s thinking about how hilarious it is that I am in fact, married to her.

I bite back a smile. “No, I’m not.”

My mother darts an uncertain look at Charlie, and I already know what she’s going to say even before she does.

“Of course, Kali and Charlie are the perfect couple, but?— ”

“Were,” Charlie hisses.

“Heard you the first time,” I say at the exact same time.

My mother ignores us. “But you’re both single. So…?” She looks from face to face, hope coloring her features.

Now this train has just veered from the “slightly eccentric” to the “insane asylum” track. I glance at my father, hoping he’ll weigh in on the ludicrousness of my mother’s suggestion, but he’s still engaged in a conversation with James. Charlie, on the other hand, is merely staring at my mother in confusion.

I open my mouth to say something, but Ariel gets there first. “Oh, Charlie is not going to go for Ken.”

I’m torn between amusement and surprise at her cavalier tone.

“You sound pretty sure about that,” I say, keeping my tone as light as I can make it. Charlie is stiffening beside me once more.

“Well, yeah.” Ariel takes another gulp. Her eyes are sparkling with something close to derision. “You see, Charlie is more like me than she’d like to admit.”

“I’m nothing like you, Mom.” Charlie’s voice is hard, almost snappish. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see my mother’s jaw drop.

Ariel doesn’t even seem perturbed. “Of course, you are,” she says, pouring a new glass. “You’re exactly like I was at your age. Could never settle for the nice guy. Had to be with the other one.”

What…the hell?

I look between Charlie and her mother, thoughts exploding in my brain. They’re staring at each other, her mother’s gaze vindictive, Charlie’s furious.

Why do I get the sense that they’ve had this conversation before ?

And fucking hell, why do I feel like Ariel is the one on my side in this?

The silence stretches between the two women, taut and long. My mother’s still watching them, her jaw slack.

“What are you all talking about?” James shouts at us. His face is red with laughter. Thankfully, his interruption causes Charlie to look away from my mother. Ariel returns to her wine, and my mother makes a quick, hasty apology.

Confusion brims within my very soul. A strange, dark weight is spilling forth from within me, channeling me back all the way to my teenage years.

What the fuck did Ariel mean by that? Nice guy? Other one?

I glance at my wife. Her gaze is locked on her food, all trace of warmth gone.

Something just happened, I can tell. Some knowledge was exchanged between the two women that concerns our past. Maybe even knowledge that explains why Charlie didn’t speak to me for ten years.

A new bout of frustration seizes me. I’m fucking mad at myself for wanting to know what happened. I’m even madder about not knowing. As both forces wrestle within me, I push myself toward a conclusion.

I’m going to find out the truth, even if it’s the last thing I do.

Before I can figure out how to get her away from this table, we’re interrupted. There’s a knock on the front door. Everyone turns to the hallway.

“I’m not expecting anyone,” my mother says, looking perturbed. “I hope it’s not some sort of emergency…”

The door is flung open with such force it hits the wall behind it. Someone walks into the hallway, holding onto two travel bags. His straight dark hair is in a ponytail, and his muscular body is wrapped in a leotard and some shorts I’d never be caught dead in. Still, there’s no mistaking that face, the darkness lurking in those eyes.

Even after all these years, it’s like looking into a mirror.

Brother dearest is back.