Page 71 of Mother Pucker

It’s like I’ve become a lovesick puppy, whining and crying after his owner leaves to get on with her life.

I hover over her, thinking she’s going to tell me she needs to get going. Instead, she trails her fingers over my bare back, lifting up to press her lips on mine.

“Did your dad text you after the past few games, too?” She brushes her nose along the stubble on my jaw, sending currents down my spine.

Why does every touch feel electric with her? Why does every moment, every conversation, every kiss feel unprecedented and exhilarating, like I’m either walking into oncoming traffic or falling off a skyscraper?

Is this all one-sided? Am I going to be left stuffing the empty cavity inside my chest with random bullshit once she walks away? With all the conditions she placed on us, isn’t that what she’s planning to do?

I glide my thumb over her nipple, making her arch her back and thrust her hips into me. “I don’t want to talk about my dad when I’m five seconds from fucking you again.”

“Rowan.” She cups my face and I turn my face to place a kiss on one palm. “I think you should talk to him; tell him how much he’s hurt you.”

My lips quirk up at the corners. “Nah, I don’t get hurt. I’m Rowan Slick Parker, baby. I let his words glide off me like water.”

She arches a brow, unimpressed with my macho act. “I see you through your facade, RowanSlickParker. You might have everyone convinced you’re ironclad, but not me.” She rests her hand on my chest. “I know that under this tough exterior is a guy with a huge, vulnerable heart. A guy who’d move mountains for those he cares about. But those huge, soft hearts are also vulnerable to pain. And whether you acknowledge it or not, you’ve been deeply hurt by your dad, your ex-best friend, and your ex.

“You may have moved on from the pain your ex and your old best friend caused you, but I’m pretty sure you’re still carrying the heartache your dad caused you. So, do yourself a favor and find the closure you need. I think you and your dad both deserve it.”

I gently run a knuckle over her cheek, thinking about her words. How is it that this woman has figured out more than I ever intended for her to when this was all just supposed to be about sex.Well, for her, anyway.“Okay, I will. Thank you for . . . for what you said.”

She shrugs. “What are friends for?”

I swallow and she watches my Adam’s apple bob. “Is that what we are?Friends?”

She grabs my ass. “Aren’t we? Friends with benefits.”

I try to keep my expression neutral, despite the fact that her response felt like a jab to my heart. Clearing my throat, I change the subject. “Beckett asked me to come over for a traditional Halloween barbecue in a few days.”

Her hand loosens on my rear end. “AtraditionalHalloween barbecue? How can we have traditions when we haven’t lived together long enough?”

“I don’t know. I was talking to his brothers after practice, and Beckett was in the arena. He came over and asked me to come over. He said we’d be grilling and then taking the kids trick-or-treating.”

Shayla squints. “He’s up to something.”

“What would he be up to?”

She gets a faraway look, twisting her lips to the side. “I’m not entirely sure yet, but if I know Beckett Langfield, he’s never done anything without a reason. Well, he loves Liv and her children without reason, but apart from that . . .” She looks at the clock on my nightstand. “Shit, I need to get going. I want to make sure I get a chance to spend some time with Kai before he goes to bed.”

She’s just getting her clothes back on, and I’m ogling her backside in her spandex leggings, when my phone rings with a call from my agent. Huh. He’s usually not one to call unless it’s important.

“Hey, Bradley,” I say, picking up the phone, my eyes still glued to the woman pulling up her jeans.

“Slick, we’ve got a problem.”

My spine straightens and I shift to a sitting position on my bed. “What is it?”

“There are multiple pictures of you coming out of a restaurant in California with a woman you looked particularly friendly with.”

My heart starts a gallop as Shayla’s concerned gaze finds me. She mouths,what’s wrong?“What do you meanparticularly friendlywith?”

Bradley makes an indiscernible sound on the phone. “In one of the pictures, you’re holding her hand, and the two of you are looking at each other in anything but a platonic way. Like, it’s clear she’s not your sister–who is also in the picture, by the way. We’re working to get them all down, but I wanted to make sure you knew.” He pauses. “The good thing is only a fraction of the woman’s face is visible since part of her is blocked by a passing vehicle, so it’s unclear who it really is.”

I swipe my tongue over my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. “What else?”

“There are a couple of reports that speculate it’s your physical therapist. One report even revealed her by name.”

“Shit.” I run my hand through my hair, feeling Shayla’s weight press down on the mattress next to me. “Shit, shit! How quickly can the team get it down?”

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