Page 31 of Arrogant Puck

Shit.

Why can’t I just forget it?

I need to––

A knock on the window shatters my thoughts.

I flinch so hard I hit the side of my head on the glass. “Jesus!”

I roll the window down. Slater leans down, hoodie pulled low, mouth curled in a smirk.

“You still have time to turn around.” He points behind the car.

My heart is still hammering. “I’m here to work on your hip.”

He pulls the door open, steps back. “Bet you can’t wait to get your hands on me.”

I climb out, grab my small case from the back seat. “If I didn’t come, Riley would’ve shown up instead. And it’s him who wants to touch you. Not me.”

He lets the gate close behind us. Doesn’t laugh, but he’s smiling.

“You told him?” he says, glancing at me sideways.

“I told him what you offered.”

“I thought you were smarter than that.”

I look at him directly. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Slater’s house is big. Sleek and quiet. Modern, but not in that sterile way. The floors are dark. The walls a stormy gray. The air smells like cedar and something more subtle beneath it—warm, masculine.

I don’t comment on any of it.

He doesn’t show me around, just leads me down a hallway and into a guestroom.

No decor. No clutter. One bed. A single nightstand. No mirror. The windows are shuttered.

This room isn’t prepped for company. This room sits empty.

I set the case down on the floor, unzip it. He doesn’t move until I nod for him.

“Hoodie off. Shoes too. Lay back.”

He pulls his hoodie off without a word, lets it fall to the floor.

My fingers stay calm, even as I catch the outline of his dick pressed thick against his shorts. Loose and big and obvious.

He lays back on the bed. Arms behind his head. Watching me.

I press lightly at his hip. “Pain here?”

“No.”

I move lower, into the groin attachment. His cock is an inch away under the fabric.

“Nothing?”

“No.”

---