Page 40 of Pucked Up

I hated that he was right, that I really did need to rub elbows if I was going to have a shot at getting picked up on a team. I also hated that he liked to parade me around these things like I was some kind of disabled trophy kid. I’d ruined my chances of ever getting in on my own merit, even if Hugo was still promising he could do that for me.

But I was tired of waiting.

And that had fueled my mood when I got onto the ice. It was made worse every time I looked at Hugo and remembered what he’d done to me. And how he made me feel.

And how much I was still craving it. Cravinghim.

When he ordered me into his office, I told myself I was going to tell him to get fucked and not let him toy with me. Instead, I’d melted like snow on a warm spring day. He had me like putty in his fucking hands with a desperate cock and a sore ass and feeling better and more centered than I’d felt in so, so long.

I detested him, but I couldn’t get enough.

And now, I was here under a stream of warm water, wishing the night would never end.

“I have to go,” I told him after what felt like a short forever of basking under a warm spray. I pushed at him gently. As much as I wanted to piss him off because I was still convinced it would make me feel better, I didn’t have it in me. He’d fucked my energy clean from my body.

Hugo stared at me for a long beat, then nodded and turned the water off. He was careful with me without being infantilizing. He helped me to a bench and let me dry and dress myself without offering to help, though I could tell he wanted to.

But I was pretty sure it wasn’t because he was afraid I was incapable. The man clearly got off on spoiling his lovers.

I wasn’t his lover though. I couldnotlet myselfget confused. That would only lead to wanting this more, and I intended to use him exactly the way he was offering himself: as a way to scratch an itch.

As a vent.

As a method of calming myself down so I didn’t ruin my chances of fulfilling my dreams before they were realized.

My muscles had stiffened back up with tension, so it took me an annoyingly long moment to redress, and I could still smell him in my clothes. I wanted to bury my face in it and relive the fantasy of what we’d just done.

He was everything I’d ever wanted in a partner. He was the one person who knew how to give me what I needed—how to take control and allow me to let go without making it feel like I didn’t have a choice.

And he wasn’t mine to keep.

Sucking in a breath, I let it out on a trembling exhale as I finished strapping on my orthotics and got my trousers over them, then my feet in my shoes. I hadn’t realized he’d brought my crutches with us when he carried me across the hall, but now they were waiting for me, propped against the wall next to the lockers.

Bowing my head, I searched for my voice. This time, I didn’t want to walk away without a word. It had felt cruel the first time, and I really wasn’t a cruel man. “Thank you.”

I wasn’t looking at him, and I didn’t have myhearing aids back in yet, but I still heard his rustling pause.

He cleared his throat. “Anytime.”

“You mean that?” This time, I did look up. I wanted to know. I wanted to be certain that this wasn’t just for me. That it wasn’t out of some misguided sense of pity.

His gaze locked on mine, and then he stepped closer and knelt beside me. My guts twisted with a renewed, fiery want the moment he was on his knees for me. I was not going to act on it though. Not again.

At least, not today.

“Mon petit feu,” he started.

My eyes narrowed. “Must you?”

His lips twitched. “When no one else can hear? Yes.”

I wanted to argue, but deep down, I knew I was going to let him have that.

He waited another beat, then said, “You’re difficult to resist. It isn’t making my job to coach you easy. I have never crossed a line like that before.”

I had no idea what to say to that. I didn’t know his history—I didn’t want to know. More details were dangerous because I’d end up finding out he rescued kittens, or herded fuzzy mini-cows, or ran a petting zoo for cancer kids or something.

Then I’d want to fuck my career right up the ass and just marry the guy.

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