Page 16 of Pucking Revenge

“To get a coffee for you. Then I need to go take care of this monster so I don’t scare you any further.”

“Take care of it how?” My lungs seize at the same time my stomach flips. The mental picture that instantly materializes in my head is one I have to shut down quick. “Let me leave before you start moaning and shaking that thing. It’s probably like a machine gun, going off in all directions.”

Brooks steps into my space and crouches. His face is too close to mine—is the man not grossed out by morning breath like the rest of the world?—but at least it’s not his dick. “Sara, take a breath.”

I shake my head and press my lips together tight.

“What are you doing now?” He’s trying not to smile, but he’s doing a terrible job of it.

“Morning breath,” I murmur, only letting the corners of my lips move.

Brooks heaves himself up and lets out a deep bellow as he walks away. “God, you’re my favorite person.”

A little lightheaded from holding my breath for so long, I inhale deeply and slump back on the couch. “Right back at you. What time is it, by the way?” I pull my phone from my pocket and tap the screen. It’s filled with missed call and text notifications. They’re all from the same person, so without responding, I slide the device back into my pocket. Not dealing with him right now.

“Six. Sorry I can’t do breakfast or anything.” He moves around the kitchen gracefully as he prepares the coffee. “I’ve gotta shower and head to the arena for practice.”

I sit up straight and grin. “Your one-night stand etiquette needs some work. Is this how you treat all the ladies? Poke them in the eye with your monster cock, then kick them to the curb without food?”

Brooks’s cheeks are pink when he wanders my way with a coffee mug in hand. “Yeah, Sara. This is exactly how all my nights go.” He holds the mug out to me. He’s already doctored the brew just the way I like it, with lots of creamer. “But since you’re my best friend, I’ll throw in a coffee for you.”

I tip my head back and grin. “See? Who said being friends with you didn’t come with benefits?”

He shakes his head. “Let yourself out when you’re done. Pick you up tonight at six?”

Oh, right. The birthday party. Shit, Seb will definitely be there. As I consider the situation, the warm smile on his face morphs into a mask of nonchalance.

“If you still want to come. No pressure. Just let me know.” He backs away, then spins and heads for his bedroom.

Dammit. My stomach knots at the thought of hurting his feelings. “Six it is!” I call out. “Sorry, still seeing stars from that cock of yours.”

He shakes his head and disappears behind his bedroom door, letting out a deep chuckle that blankets me in a comforting warmth.

Much better. Brooks Langfield’s laugh is a national treasure. It must be protected at all costs. That smile too.

I slide on my shoes, and with my coffee in hand, I step out into the hall and close the door behind me with a quiet click. I’ll bring the mug back tonight. As I turn and bring it to my lips, a dark figure appears in the hallway.

I swear the kind of eerie music that signals something bad is about to happen plays, coming to a crescendo as the figure steps closer. And the shriek that forces its way out of my mouth makes even my ears ring. Coffee splashes over the side of my mug, scalding my hand and wrist, as well as dousing my shirt in the hot liquid.

“Fuck!”

The looming shadow steps into the light then, and he makes no move to help me. No, Seb stands stock-still, his jaw hard and his eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you doing coming out of Brooks’s apartment at six in the morning?”

With a huff, I pat down my wet shirt and mimic what would be a normal conversation if he wasn’t such a massive dickhead. “You okay, Sara? No, Seb. I’ve been scalded because you scared the fucking shit out of me.”

Unamused, he grits out, “Answer the question.”

“You’re being an asshole.” I take a slow sip of what’s left of my coffee.

What the hell is he even doing here? He lives a few floors above Brooks—right next door to me, of all places—so it doesn’t make sense for him to be down here if he’s headed for the arena. And clearly, he is. He’s already dressed in a suit, salt and pepper hair perfectly slicked back, blue eyes angry.

Does he smile? If so, I can’t even conjure an image of what it looks like right now.

“And you’re being a slut. You think this is going to make me claim you? Make me want to go public? Because if that’s the game, then you’ve already lost. Hate to break it to you, but you’re going to be miserable when you realize I’ll never do that.”

My heart drops to the floor. More than anything, I want to knee him in the balls, but I keep my composure and use my words instead. “Excuse me? Never?”

He sighs. “Not when you’re acting like this.”

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