Page 48 of Arrogant Puck

I nod, and she follows me to the kitchen. She works in silence, not asking questions, not trying to fill the space with meaningless conversation. Sometimes it’s annoying to be questioned constantly, but I find I like her presence. It’s... peaceful.

“How’s your boyfriend?” I ask as she prepares the ice pack.

She shakes her head. “I lied to you.”

I act surprised, raising an eyebrow.

“I actually moved here because my last boyfriend was a psychopath and did some really messed up things.”

I can’t help but smirk. “Must be your pretty privilege. Attracting all the wrong kinds of guys.”

She places the ice at my hip, and I watch her eyes dart lower before she catches herself. The flush that creeps up her neck is almost worth the pain.

“I think you made a mistake threatening Riley,” she says quietly.

The peaceful moment shatters. “No? He’s using you to get to me because he thinks you have a pretty face, remember? And for what?” I scoff.

“To help,” she says, patting my knee. I watch her hand, not liking the casual touch. “He’s trying to help you, Slater.”

“You’re helping.” I place my hand on top of hers, and she pulls away like she just got burned.

“This is very unprofessional,” she swallows, suddenly nervous. “I shouldn’t be here in a private matter, but I really am trying to help. But if this is going to continue, you cannot put your hands on my neck ever again, Slater. You cannot be threatening my boss.”

“Does he know you’re here?”

“No, I lied to him remember. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“So, you’re really here to help me?”

She shrugs, suddenly uncertain. “Maybe I should go. This was just overall a bad idea. I did what I could. I’m going to go.”

“Stay,” I say, the word coming out like a clear demand. “My hip is killing me.”

She pauses, studying my face. “You’ve never admitted that before.”

“Yeah, well.” I grab the ice pack. “Ice isn’t helping. Stretch me. Come on.”

She follows me back to the guestroom, and I lie down on the bed again. When she starts massaging the deep muscle, her hands working dangerously close to my groin, I have to focus on the ceiling to keep my breathing steady.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice softer now. “I need to dig deep to get that muscle. I can stop at any moment. Just tell me. Does it feel okay?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

Silence follows, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s charged with something I don’t want to name, something that makes every nerve ending in my body hyperaware of her touch.

And for the first time in years, there’s something in my chest that feels like warmth.

I sit up, take her hand off me, and say, “Okay. That’s good.”

My raging boner is a dead giveaway, but she needs to leave right now.

Without saying a word, she leaves. Watching her leave pushes me over an edge I didn’t know I was on. I hear the front door click and I lay back, shoving my hand in my pants. I start stroking myself at the thought of her hands on me. That pretty face. Those pretty curls. Those mesmerizing eyes.

She rounds the corner as soon as I pull my dick out of the shorts. Her eyes widen at the sight of my swollen cock.

“Shit!” she yelps, covering her eyes frantically. She hides behind the wall and says, “I left my notebook.”

I put my dick back in my shorts, grab her notebook, and flip through it as I slowly make my way to her.

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