Page 61 of Facing Off
“That doesn’t make a difference. I always want you, Sonya.”
“There you go again,” I mumble. “Being dramatic.”
I turn away from him, pretending to survey the scene. So much has happened to me these last few days. I should still be crushed, downtrodden, pissed?—
But now I’m bantering with him? There’s a strange hum in my veins. My heartbeat is flummoxed, and in some dark corner of my mind, I wonder if talking to Hughes like this gives me as much normalcy as breaking things does. As if over the years I’ve gotten attached to us acting like this whenever wedidsee each other. That I need and want more of this back and forth. And how this whole time, I never really wanted him to leave even when I was telling him to go.
Not that he’d ever guess that, the way I’ve been treating him.
That guilt in my stomach makes itself known again.
“What do you want to attack next?” he wonders, bumping his shoulder with mine.
Half the room is already a disaster. A minute ago, I was impatient to finish the rest, desperate for more catharsis. But now?
“I want to watch you,” I hear myself say, stuck on the idea for some reason.
Hughes is momentarily startled. Then recovers and arches a brow. “Well, well, well. If you insist on making me your source of entertainment, then IguessI have no choice but to put on a show for you!”
His goofy eagerness almost makes me smile. I’mforcing myself to keep a straight face. “Don’t pretend putting on a show is a struggle for you.”
Hughes points his big blue eyes at me, his lips pouting. “But I’m shy.”
I strangle the urge to laugh. “I’m sure you’ll survive it. Somehow.”
And just like that, we swap places.
It’s his turn.
The cabinet stands no chance. Neither does the printer nor the desk. Hughes whistles while rampaging, his trim waist swiveling as the corded musculature of his broad back and never-ending shoulders ripple underneath the coveralls. I know hockey is known for men with thick thighs, but his have never looked more like tree trunks than they do now. Planted on the ground as he easily wreaks havoc only using his upper half.
Nonetheless, my eyes lower. It’s audaciously perky and has no business siren-calling my hands, telepathically shouting out to me how grabbable it is…
His ass.
I suck in a ragged breath. Center myself. I lecture myself internally that watching his commitment toward complete destruction and hearing his wild husky laughter isn’t making heat pool low in my belly.
(It does.)
I can see why he was on the sidelines without complaining. And why he took those pictures on his phone when he thought I wouldn’t notice. This has no right to be this hot. I don’t know why it is. Some buried lizard part of my brain quivers seeing his raw strength on display.
My heart pounds. Arousal spikes inside me. I’m?—
Wet.
Just like I was this morning, straddling him, pretending like I wasn’t. Not only that, but my mouth twitches. I wantto…laugh even harder than before. Especially when Hughes bashes a detached windshield, giving me his most seductive smile. Or when he skips over and kicks a side table.
Warmth gathers in my chest, before I push it away.
Unadulterated joy isn’t myvibeas Hughes would call it. I’m not supposed to envy or enjoy this unserious man with his silly escapades. Like he’s singing corny pop songs out loud now, serenading me with them as bits and bobs fly into the air. It’s ridiculous, and I have no business wanting to join in. So why does this tucked-away, previously abandoned part of me want to join him and try it out?
Keep it together, I lecture myself.
26
SONYA
We’ve discovereda corner of plates. Side by side, we toss them across the room.
