Page 12 of Puck Lust

I still can’t, even now.

The shower spray stops and I take in a sharp breath.

Jack grabs his towel, but before he secures it around his waist, he turns slowly. His chiseled features tense when he sees me but he doesn’t rush to tuck the towel around his waist. His thick cock hangs low between his legs and fuck me if my mouth doesn’t water.

“Look, if you’re here to lecture me again, save it. I’m not in the mood. I just had my ass chewed out by Enver. He told me I need to be the bigger person to resolve whatever is going on between us ’cause you’re the golden boy even as a goddamn newbie on the team, and apparently you can do no wrong.”

I finally find my voice and choke out words. “Is that all?”

“No.” He stops right in front of me, finally coveringhimself with his towel, and folds his tattooed arms over his chest. My eyes skim over the intricate swirls of black ink, my fingers tingling with the need to trace over them, to study them and what they might mean.

I swallow hard, forcing my eyes toward his.

“He didn’t trust me to fix things on my own. So he’s forcing us to room together for our away games this season.”

My heart slips into my stomach.

Alone. In a hotel room. With Jack Larson less than a few feet away from me.

And all these crazy, unresolved feelings now swarming my mind.

Forget punishment pushups.

Rooming with him will be torture of the worst possible kind. It’ll make the punishment pushups feel like a Swedish massage in comparison.

AndI’msupposed to be Enver’s golden boy.

What kind of fucking irony is that?

FIVE

jack

“How the fuckcould I think playing for Oakland was gonna be a good idea?” I grumble, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel of my Audi R8 as I wait for a Hyundai to pull out of a parking spot.

My plans to get back together with Sam crashed and burned.

And my past is front and center to bite me in the ass every time I walk into the locker room at Oakland Arena.

The Hyundai takes its sweet ass time backing up. I pound my fist on the wheel and let out a frustrated grunt.

Everyone sees the shiny bullshit façade I wear but nobody wants to know about what lies underneath, as much as they think they can handle it.

Hell, I have a hard time handling it and it’s my own baggage.

So I shut everyone out. I don’t let them see past that sparkly mask.

Because if they do, I know they’ll run.

They’d have to be stupid not to.

My mind trips back to seeing VK after my shower last night. I bite down on my lower lip, the image of his broad shoulders and cut muscles burned into my mind.

He hates me for sure, not that I can blame him.

He was trying to be a good guy and I was a complete asshole that night. I was angry and upset and ready to lash out at anyone dumb enough to get in my way.

VK became that target.

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