Page 55 of Pucked Up

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. It took several breaths and forcibly unsticking my tongue from the roof of my mouth to get anything out. “It was a mistake.” Oh, those words tasted like the most bitter lie.

“Did he…” Ford cleared his throat. “Did he hurt you? Did he force you to?—”

“No. God, no.” Christ, I could not let either of them think that. I was the one begging like a cat in heat. But I wasn’t ready to admit that either. “It was definitely, ah, mutual.”

Ford relaxed a fraction, but he didn’t look satisfied. “He’s your coach.”

This time, I did roll my eyes, and he didn’t threaten me for it. “I’m not some malleable teenager, and this is beer league hockey.”

He looked offended. “We’re not just some?—”

“We are,” I said quickly, interrupting him. “We have connections to the pros, and we’re friends with players in the league. I come from, well, my family. The lines there might be a little blurred, but the bullshit between me and Hugo isn’t. I have a job. I don’t need him. This wasn’t some exchange of favors or anything like that. I wasn’t coerced.” I’d wanted it more than anything I’d ever wanted in my life.

Ford licked his lips. “Y-you don’t like him.”

“No.” Except…maybe I kind of did? “We’ve found some common ground lately.”

At that, Tucker snorted, and Ford shot him a betrayed look. “What? That’s fucking hilarious, and once you get over your whole”—he waved his hand up and down at Ford—“thing, you’ll be laughing your ass off.” He leaned over his thighs. “How was it? He looks like he could boss you around real good.”

“I’m not talking about this,” I snapped.

He groaned and sat back. “Come on. I give you all my dirty details.”

“Against my will! I do not want to know the noises Amedeo makes when you put a tongue in his ass.”

He looked like he was in heaven. “Oh, they’re so good though. Does Hugo?—”

“No!” Ford said loudly. “No. We’re not talkingabout the noises our coach makes when Boden puts a tongue in his ass.”

“I haven’t put a tongue in his ass yet,” I said absently, then flushed. “I mean—shit. It’s…we’ve only fucked a couple of times.”

Tucker studied me, then startled the shit out of me and Ford when he clapped his hands together loudly. “Oh my God! It was that night. The night you were all pissed off and freaking out, and then suddenly, you were calm. You listened to him during practice the next day!”

That was definitely more than one night, but I couldn’t deny it. “He knew what I needed.”

Both of my friends were dead silent. Then Ford asked, “Who else knows?”

“No one.”

“Micah? Jonah? Tiago?”

My cheeks flushed again, and I sighed. “Tiago technically knows, but he doesn’t know who Hugo is.”

Tucker frowned. “Uh. Explain?”

“The first time we fucked was when I met him at a bar before I knew who he was,” I admitted. “He was one of my, you know…”

“Right. Fake name, big-dick guys,” Tucker said, waving his hand dismissively.

They were definitely not always guys with big dicks, but I wasn’t going to argue that point with him.

Ford held up a hand. “Wait. When did you find out that he was the new coach?”

I rubbed at my eyes. “Uhg. At the meeting a few weeks later.” It felt like a lifetime now, and the thought that Hugo and I had only been doing this a short while was kind of wild.

“So is that why…” Ford trailed off.

I met his gaze. “Why what?”

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