Page 27 of Pucked Up

“You remember that night,” I clarified.

His cheeks tinged pink. “You think I forgot?”

“You looked right through me! You said nice to meet you!”

He was quiet for a beat, and then he rocked back on his heels, his hands on my thighs, dangerously close to my erection. “What did you want me to say, mon petit feu? It’s good to see you again? You look just as good with your clothes on? Or maybe I should have given in to my urge to punch Journey in the face for flirting with you right in front of me?”

“I—” I had no idea what to say.

His head tilted to the side. “You told me your rules, Boden.” Fuck, the sound of my name—my real name—on his lips was too much. “We agreed not to break them. We didn’t make a contingency plan for…this.”

I waited a beat for him to say something else. He didn’t. “You mean if I rolled into a conference room and it turns out that you’re my new coach?” I took a breath. “Did you really not know that night?”

“I wouldn’t have fucked you.”

I reared back like I’d been slapped. “Right. Myfather didn’t pay you to come rail my ass now, did he?”

“If I recall, only one ass was railed, and it wasn’t yours.” He smirked as my ears heated with a blush. “But your father hasn’t paid me to do anything. He asked me for a favor, and I told him no.”

I didn’t know why, but that stung. It felt like a rejection. And in spite of the fact that him not being in league with my father was exactly what I wanted, I winced.

His face shuttered, and then he lifted a hand and pressed it tenderly to my cheek. “Mon petit feu.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He laughed and didn’t move away from me. “Why? You burn so bright.”

“But I’m not yours.”

Hugo let out a long sigh. “Yes. I suppose you’re right. You’re not. At least, not at the moment. But right now, I do have you where I want you.”

My chest burned with the need to launch myself out of my chair and let him wrestle me to the ground. I wanted to feel him again, taste him again. I wanted to see God and all his angels as he dragged me over the edge, kicking and screaming, and threw me into the void of ecstasy.

Shit. When did I become a fucking poet?

“I think you have a lot of pent-up anger and rage. I think you’re not sure where to direct it. And I can help with that.”

“Throwing things at youdidtake the edge off,” Isaid, lifting my chin. I was trying to remind him that he didn’t like me. That I’d spent a few weeks now trying to make him hate me.

He just smiled. “I’m sure, but I know that’s not enough. You’re not a little spark, Boden. You’re a raging wildfire, and you need more. You need someone to tame you.”

“Fuck you.”

He shook his head and leaned in, his lips almost touching mine. “Don’t misunderstand. I don’t want to put you out. I want to make you better. Brighter. I want to see you succeed because I know you can. So…let me.”

I swallowed heavily. This was a moment—a choice. It felt like this one answer would make or break my future. And the worst part was, I already knew what it was. The single word had been on the tip of my tongue since the moment I looked up and saw him walking into that conference room.

It was like every dream and every nightmare had become reality.

“You have to say it, mon petit feu. You have to tell me with your words.” He shifted his hand slightly and ran a thumb over my lower lip. “Oui ou non?”

I reached for him. I meant to grab him by the throat, but my hands wouldn’t obey. Instead, they curled into his shirt and tugged him forward, his forehead bumping into mine. “You know what my answer is.”

“Say it anyway.”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, and then I leapt.

“Yes. Make it better, Hugo. Make all of this…stop.”

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