Page 110 of The Pucking Arrangement

My stomach plummets.My pulse pounds in my ears.

I blink at her, certain I misheard. “What?” My voice comes out too thin, barely audible over the rush of blood in my head.

“Three years,” Sophie says softly. “Not a single woman.”

Not even?—

My throat locks up.

I force a swallow, but my hands are already shaking.

“Stop.” It’s barely a whisper. “Just…stop. He’s discreet, that’s all.”

Because suddenly, all my careful excuses—the ones I’ve been repeating to myself like a shield—feel like they’re built on quicksand.

Jenna shifts beside me, shooting Sophie a hesitant look, like they’ve had this conversation before.

Like they knew I wasn’t ready to hear it.

“But I thought…” My mind spins, grasping for solid ground. “I mean, he’s gorgeous. The other players always have women?—”

“Not Dmitri,” Sophie murmurs.

The weight of it settles over me, pressing into my chest.

I thought this was just attraction. Just chemistry.

Just a hot, single dad who needed a distraction.

Something light. Something temporary. Something that wouldn’t tangle my heart in the process.

But I knew better. Dmitri Sokolov doesn’t do casual.

Every glance, every touch, every moment in the spaces between the chaos?—

It was never just fun to him.

It was never just physical.

I saw it right away.

Because the way he looks at me—the way he sees me—has never been careless.

The way he holds me—like I’m something rare, something fragile—has never been fleeting.

The way he says my name—low, reverent, like a prayer—has never been temporary.

And yet, I’ve been pretending. Telling myself this is nothing but heat and adrenaline, desire and convenience.

But Dmitri doesn’t see it that way.

Maybe he never did.

And suddenly, three days feels like both forever and not nearly enough time to figure out if I’m ready for what comes next.

Chapter22

Thunderstruck

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