Page 61 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“Me,” he answers. His brows furrow together. “Why?” Before I can say anything, he throws his head back and roars with laughter. It’s so infectious the corners of my lips turn upward, twitching into a semblance of a smile.

I raise an incredulous eyebrow as I perch on the toilet lid, naked and… I don’t even know, while Sawyer stands nearby, his eyes crinkled with laughter. “What’s so funny?” I remark, my tone laced with disbelief.

Sawyer’s lips curl into a playful grin as he leans against the bathroom counter, his gaze fixed on me. “You’re jealous,” he replies, his voice tinged with humor.

I scoff, my eyes narrowing. “Jealous? Of what?” He doesn’t need to know he’s right. It’s an irrational and ridiculous feeling—one I have no right to harbor, one I definitely won’t own up to.

Sawyer chuckles softly, the sound warm and infectious. “Sure thing, bunny,” he quips, his tone making it clear he doesn’t believe me at all.

I huff and pointedly stare at the bathtub. “Can I get in now?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his eyes trailing all over my naked body as I stand and allow him to help me into the massive tub.

I moan softly as I lower my body into the water. It feels amazing. While we were talking, I forgot all about feeling cold, and now, well, I don’t feel cold at all. The hot water is like a soft blanket cocooning me, warming me from the inside out.

Once I’m comfortable, I lean my head back against the edge and look up at Sawyer. He’s grinding his teeth while looking at me like he wants to either fight or fuck me. “I don’t really have any other bath products,” he explains, sitting down on the edge of the tub. “This is the shit Coach wants us to use for our muscles.”

Oh… now I feel a bit stupid for jumping to conclusions. I close my eyes, soaking up the warmth, loving the way I can feel it all the way into my bones. When I open my eyes again, Sawyer has lowered himself so our faces are almost touching. I let out a surprised gasp, but don’t look away. The longer we stay locked like this, the less cold I feel. That’s when I realize it’s not the water chasing away the dreadful feeling; it’s Sawyer.

Sawyer Perry, of all people, is the one to make me feel better. Huh, I guess life really has a sense of irony after all, considering how many times he’s made me feel like shit.

“Aren’t you getting in?” I barely recognize my voice. It’s all sultry and low, like I’m trying to seduce him with my voice alone.

“Do you want me to?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Feeling suddenly shy, I bite down on my bottom lip and nod. Then I proceed to ogle him, which is a complete contradiction since I don’t hide the way my eyes caress his body while he first removes his shoes, pants, and then… wait, when did he put his shoe back on after using it to keep the elevator doors open? I shake my head, that’s so not the right thing to focus on as he gracefully steps into the tub.

“Move forward,” he rasps before sitting down. I feel him move and shift behind me, making himself comfortable. Sawyer palms my hips and pulls me back, so I’m nestled between his long, muscular legs. His hard-on prods me in the back, and I wiggle my ass against him. “Ignore that for now.”

“What if I don’t want to ignore it?” I ask, slightly breathless.

“I want to talk, bunny. Really talk.” He tugs at my hair until I relent and lean back against him. “We’re married for fuck’s sake, and if tonight’s taught me anything, it’s that we know hardly anything about each other.”

Taking my hand, he lifts it into the air, his fingers gracing the Russo wedding band heirloom. It looks simple enough if you don’t know what to look for. It’s gold, with the letters S.P.Q.R. engraved, and at the front there are two white diamonds, symbolizing the eyes of the wolf. I know Fabian recognized the design when he saw it. Shit… he knows… he knows I’m married to Sawyer. For the first time, I’m scared of what this will mean for my husband.

Fabian is bound by the laws of our family, and he isn’t allowed to interfere. But he obviously doesn’t give a shit about that since he’s now a sponsor for the Sabertooths. I wonder how long he’s been here, watching me… shit. Oh no, the things I accused Remus of… sending the weird presents and painting my door. Fuck. It wasn’t Remus, it had to be Fabian, I was just too stupid to see it.

And just like that, the coldness returns. Not as much as before, but enough that I feel it seeping under my skin. A part of me considers reaching out to Remus to ask if he’s told Fabian about my marriage, and… it doesn’t matter. I fought so hard to get away, and I won’t let myself be roped back in by asking our Don to interfere or for an update.

“Lucia,” my husband growls, reminding me I’ve just been sitting here, too lost in my thoughts to speak.

“I don’t want to talk,” I say, almost petulantly. But dammit, I don’t want to. Not even a little. Because right now, I’m not sure I can filter myself enough. So if I start talking, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.

“Because you don’t trust me.” There’s no accusation in his tone. “And that’s fair. But I trust you.”

“You do?” I gasp, surprised by the revelation.

He bends so his lips graze the shell of my ear. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re playing your part well and making me look good even when you don’t have to. You’re living up to your end of the deal.”

Well, when he puts it like that, I do sound like one helluva catch. “But you don’t know me,” I insist.

I’m not sure why I’m trying to talk him out of trusting me. Gaining his trust is exactly what I need, and what I’ve tried to achieve. Yet it doesn’t sit right with me that he’s declaring it when I’m lying… maybe not lying, but I’m definitely not being honest, and I am going out of my way to play the situation to my advantage.

Deciding to give him something, a small yet poignant truth, I say, “That guy from the interview… John is… well…” Shit, I don’t know how to explain this. Maybe I just need to rip off the Band-Aid. “It was Fabian. He was the one who asked about me being honest at the interview.”

“I figured,” he says. “Your reaction tonight was worse than at the interview, but pretty damn similar.” Sawyer runs his big hands up and down my arms in a soothing motion while he licks and kisses his way down my neck to my shoulder, then back up again.

My skin pebbles, and I do my best to hold back any sounds, giving away how amazing it feels. “Do you, umm, have any follow up questions?” I don’t know why I’m asking that. But a part of me feels like I should open the door, allow him to ask any questions he might have.

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