Page 12 of Pucked Up

But he wasn’t the one who had me in a chokehold.No, it was the man who had me in a literal chokehold several weeks ago.

A man who had pinned me down, took my dick like he was born to do it, then sat on the shower floor with me and washed all of his come off my body. A man I’d spent every waking hour trying not to think about, only to fall asleep and dream of him, waking up hard and desperate, rutting against my mattress.

Jean-Luc.

Except that wasn’t his name, was it?

“Hugo! It’s so good to see you again,” Jacob said. He wheeled around the table and offered Jean-Luc—no, Hugo, apparently—his hand.

All of the rules I’d set into place about my hookups just shattered like a hot glass touching cold ice.

“Fuck my life.”

Jacob turned to look at me, and he sighed. “Boden, please. I am begging you not to start. Just…hear me out, okay?”

It took me a moment to register what Jacob was saying and why. This man—Hugo—the one I should have never looked twice at the night at the bar, was the new coach? Was that what he was saying?

“You must be kidding me.” I looked from Jacob to Journey, then back to Hugo. God, it was too bizarre to know his name. “It can’t be him.”

Hugo swallowed thickly, then walked two steps toward me and offered his hand. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met, and Jacob didn’t give me the names ofeveryone who was in the meeting today.” Right. He didn’t know my name either, did he?

I took his hand as though I was operating on autopilot. His palm was the same as before—large, hot, soft, and so fucking strong. He gripped me, squeezed, then let me go, like touching me didn’t matter to him at all.

But his stare. Christ, he was looking right through me as though he wasn’t lying. As though we really hadn’t met. For a brief second, I wondered if maybe I’d hallucinated the entire thing. God, what if I’d been so desperate all this time for a good fuck that I’d made it all up.

Or worse…

What if he’d been too drunk to remember? What if I was the bad guy here? Maybe I was the same monster who had gotten Tucker wasted and left him in some strange place.

I wanted to throw up all over my shoes.

“…our captain and has been for the last five years. We’re very lucky to have a former Paralympian on our team,” Jacob was saying.

Journey snorted. “Can we call him that if he was kicked out?”

“If you’re not going to be helpful, please leave,” Jacob said tiredly. “I’m not in the mood for your weird bullying bullshit today, and I don’t think Boden is either.”

I forced myself back to the present, tearing my gaze from Hugo, who had taken several steps back and sat down in the chair Jacob hadpulled out for him. He didn’t look fazed at all. He was glancing at me the way everyone did: mild curiosity and confusion.

God no. Not him. Please not him. He hadn’t been like everyone else that night, and while I’d been certain I wasn’t ever going to see him again, now that I had, I couldn’t stand the thought of him looking at me the way the rest of the world did.

“I expect that the best help you’re going to get while integrating with the team is from Boden,” Jacob said.

Something in me snapped. Yes, this had been the man that I fucked—I think, unless he had a sexy identical twin who knew exactly how to fuck me just right—but this was not the man I wanted to be our coach.

“Hold on.”

“Here we go,” Journey said from his spot by the coffee.

Jacob groaned. “Boden?—”

“What qualifications, exactly, do you have for this position?” I leaned over my thighs and stared at his legs. “I never assume able-bodied, but?—”

“I am,” Hugo said without much inflection in his voice.

My gaze darted over to Jacob. “Explain yourself.”

“I don’t have to. I’m the team owner, and I can hire whoever the fuck I want, Boden. And I expect the person I find fit will be treated with respect.”

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