Page 123 of My Pucking Crush

Luca

Ipace around Max’s living room, hating myself. Plenty of reasons are fighting for the number one position. I’ve fallen for Max. What was a harmless crush, a frenzied obsession with a hot hockey player on the team I worked for, has mutated into something I’ve never felt before.

Love.

But I just threw him out of his own house naked. Made him vulnerable and likely to find a helpful woman who he may very well fuck as a thank you. Hell no. That man is mine and no one toucheswhat is mine.

Yet, knowing Ivan Belova wants Max hurt enough to not play, I still threw him out of his own house to wander around East Hampton. Naked. Like an idiot.

Fuck. Me. What the hell have I done?

I yank off the low-slung towel from my hips and quickly slide on my trousers. Bare chested, I open the patio door and call out, “Max!”

Hearing nothing but the crash of waves, I rush to the railing of his deck and look both ways. Footprints in the sand head left. “Aw,fuck.”

I rush back into the house and grab a flashlight, my piece, and my shirt, but I don’t bother buttoning it up. I close the door and keep it unlocked in case he gets back. I deserve to be locked out at this point. I deserve to be punished.

God, I want to be punished with his cock.

I follow the footprints, assuming they’re Max’ssince they started at the bottom of the deck stairs and looked like his meaty bare feet. “Max!” I call out again.

The angry ocean to my right tightens my chest, my heart soaring into my throat. What if he ducked into the water because he was naked and got...swept away?

“Holy shit, I’m in trouble.”

“Looking for someone?” a voice sounds out from above me.

I whip my piece in that direction. “Who are you?”

A woman giggles. “I’m guessingyou’rethe bodyguard.”

“Where’s Max?” I point my piece at them. I’m intrust no onemode.

Only, these two don’t flinch. They know who I am. They’re a few steps ahead of me.

“Let’s start with some introductions.” The man who called out to me holds the woman against his chest. “I’m Emery Austin and this is my fiancée, Bernadette Armstrong.”

A dainty hand waves to me.

I lower my gun. “Yeah, I’m Max’s bodyguard. Where is he?”

“Some bodyguard.” Emery gives my disheveled hair and open shirt a curious glare.

“Can I come up?” I point to the stairs. “I know he’s here. Those are his footsteps.”

“Hewashere,” Bernadette says to me with sympathyandmischief in her eyes.

“Was?” I choke out. “Where the hell did he go? He’s naked.”

“Not anymore,” Emery says.

“You gave him clothes?”

“My other fiancé did,” the adorable woman says.

“Otherfiancé?” I’m definitely not hearing her right.

“That’s not important.” Emery shakes his head. “Your boyfriend is our fiancé’s old college roommate.”

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