Page 87 of Pucked Up

“Yes.”

“Will you stop that!” He smacked me on the chest with the back of his hand. “Let me talk.”

I grinned and waved my hand as if to say,go on.

“You’d come with me? Anywhere I want?”

Tipping my head low, I said up against his ear, “Yes. Anywhere you want.”

I thought that if I ever did have Boden in my arms again, it would be frantic, frenetic, intense. I thought it would be ripping clothes off, mouths devouringevery inch of exposed skin. At the time of that fantasy, that had seemed right for us, but now I realized how wrong that was.

I stripped him down slowly, tasting bits of flesh with lips and tongue as he let me expose him to the cool air of the hotel room. I took my time kneeling at his feet to peel away his trousers, tearing at the straps of his orthotics to free his legs and feet, then up—resisting every instinct to tear the buttons of his shirt, instead popping each one through the little holes until I could run my hands over the coarse hair on his chest.

He was so fucking beautiful.

“What?”

Oh. I’d spoken aloud without realizing it. I lifted my face to him and repeated it. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

His cheeks bloomed pink, and his gaze darted away, but he didn’t deflect or argue, which, for him, was progress. He sat there squirming under my attention but pliant and almost starved for my touch. He chased each pass of my hands over his body, and when I urged him down onto his back, he went more than willingly.

“Kiss me,” I said when I had his attention.

He did. His head lifted off the mattress to meet me more than halfway. His mouth was so warm, so perfect. I could have spent the rest of my life just like this.

“I want to taste you,” I murmured against his mouth. My hand drifted down, cupping him throughhis boxers. He was hard—a stark contrast to last time when he’d needed more than sex, and that had sent him running, terrified.

“It wasn’t you, by the way,” Boden said.

I eased back. “What wasn’t me?”

“Before—uh.” He gestured down at his erection.

“Oh.Oh, mon petit feu, I didn’t think that. I don’t have unrealistic expectations about what your body should do whenever you’re around me.”

His blush darkened. “Yes, but…it was a first. Every time I set eyes on you, I get hard, which is really fucking inconvenient when I’m trying to play.” He pushed up on his elbows. “Which probably also means you can’t come to any of my games.”

I laughed, pinning him back to the bed and carefully propping his legs up over my thighs so his hips wouldn’t hurt. “Don’t worry, I will hide. I’ll wear a disguise.”

“Like a big hat and a mustache?”

“A trench coat,” I said, kissing his neck. He moaned and leaned into it. “Big black-framed glasses. I’ll wear the jersey of the other team?—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he said, sitting up and almost smacking his forehead into mine. His eyes were blazing, and I grinned at him.

“Go Seals,” I whispered.

He growled and bit into my neck. Hard. It was most definitely going to leave a mark, and fuck, I was going to wear that so proudly.

“Never,” he said against my skin, licking over theindentations of his teeth. “Say it. You will never wear a single jersey that isn’t mine.”

I pulled back and took his chin in my fingers. “Only yours. Onlyyou.”

A shiver ran up my spine at the intensity in his gaze. Reid had loved the game, but he hadn’t been born with it in his veins the way Boden had. It wasn’t part of who he was. And something about that was so beautiful because Boden’s future was entirely in his own hands. Boden had fucked up once but refused to give up because he knew what he deserved. And as much as he doubted himself, he was still impossibly strong.

And Christ, I loved him for that.

“Let me taste you,” I murmured. “Please.”

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