Page 37 of A Major Puck Up

With a hand shielding his eyes, he stumbles to his feet, but he doesn’t move closer.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

As I get a good look at him, my stomach somersaults. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that strains against his muscles. His hair is mussed and falling forward a bit, making it look longer than it did yesterday when it was slicked back and styled for the game. Disheveled or not, he looks hella sexy. And when he smiles at me, his eyes crinkling and his teeth showing, I know I’m screwed. He’s just as gorgeous as always, maybe more so, and just as off-limits.

“I have no fucking idea.”

A huff of a laugh escapes me, even as my heart pounds. “You flew all the way to Paris, tracked down my apartment, and waited outside my door for?—”

“Three hours.”

My breath catches. “Three hours?” I shake my head. “You did all that, and you don’t know why you’re here?”

Gavin shrugs as he steps closer.

I step back but hit the wall because the place is tiny. Might have mentioned that already.

“You’re here,” he says, coming another step closer, then another.

The lump in my throat threatens to cut off my air as I take him in up close. He’s so much taller than me, and he’s completely filled the space. His body, his scent, his heat, and that damn small smile.

“I am here,” I admit.

“I couldn’t stand being where you weren’t.” His words are a vise around my heart, squeezing so tight that I’m dizzy.

“What does that mean?”

Gavin shakes his head and licks his lips. “I don’t know that either. I just—I wanted to see you, so I got on a plane, and here I am.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks, his head tilting in surprise.

I suck in a breath and take a step forward. I don’t have the first clue where we go from here other than inside. “Yeah, okay.”

Gavin steps to one side, allowing me to pass him. I watch him as I go, afraid he’ll disappear if I look away. I only turn my focus forward when he follows me. And he follows me closely. Like maybe he’s afraid I’m the one who’ll disappear. He’s so close as I unlock the door, I can feel the heat radiating off him.

The second I step inside, nerves swamp me. The last time we were together in a small space, it was his place, and honestly, small isn’t an adjective I’d use to describe his penthouse. But when he squeezes my shoulder, his warmth seeps into me, assuaging some of my anxiety. For a moment, I close my eyes and just breathe. I don’t care what he thinks of the place. I honestly don’t give a fuck about anything other than the feel of Gavin Langfield’s hand on me.

He flew here on a whim.

He’s here.

I can’t wrap my head around that thought.

But I open my eyes and force myself to move.

“Are you hungry?” I step away and flip on the light in the kitchenette. If I have any chance of surviving the next hour, or of not getting naked and begging him to fuck me, then I need some space.

“No. I’m okay. I’m sure you’re tired.”

I turn around and face him, finally getting my fill. He’s so big in my space. Wide. Real. “The last thing I am is tired.”

He smirks for the first time since he got here. It’s the first time I’ve seen that expression in a year. God, I missed it—I missed him.

Sweet Gavin has always been my kryptonite, but cocky Gavin, smirking Gavin? He’s my fucking undoing.

“Maybe a drink?” I pull open the fridge, forcing my attention away from that beautiful smirk. Even as I focus on anything but him, I can feel him watching me.

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