Page 32 of Puck Shy

“Ha ha,” he huffs, though his face remains warm. “But really, I don’t mind you posting anything about my life, as long as I have pants on.”

“Deal,” I say. “I’m working on creating a more detailed plan that I’ll show you once I’m done. Then we can get on a content schedule and coordinate with your manager in Los Angeles and your PR team to make sure everything is announced on time. I know Leo will have some collabs with brands he wants to do, too.”

Lucas stares at me for a moment, long enough that I start to wonder if he doesn’t like what I said. Then he smiles. “See. I knew I hired the right person.”

I can’t help but blush. “Thanks. I really want to get this right for you.”

“I’m not worried.”

Those butterflies in my stomach return briefly as we stare at each other, but I shove them down as best I can. “Should we go take some pictures, then? People will go crazy for you in that suit,” I say, trying to keep my cheeks from turning redder. Because I am one of those people, no matter how much I wish I wasn’t right now. It would make my job much easier.

He opens his mouth to speak before closing it without saying anything, and judging by the boyish glint that’s returned to his blue eyes, I have a feeling it was something flirty.

But as quickly as it appears, he blinks it away just as fast. “Let’s give the people what they want.” He smiles.

“Let’s.” I grin back.

Chapter fourteen

Lucas

Two Months Later

After ending a business call with my brother, I pocket my phone and stop outside Stevie’s hotel room. We’re in Vancouver again for our second-to-last game of the season.

These last two games are important because they will determine if we get into the playoffs. We have no choice but to win, and I have to admit the pressure is getting to me. And if I’m honest with myself, so has trying to stay professional with Stevie.

The more I get to know her, the more I want her. Since the day she started, I’ve done everything in my power to not even look at her for too long, at least when she’s not looking at me. It’s hard, though, when I spend hours with her every day. But that’s my own fault. I’m a glutton for punishment, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ask for more of her time than I probably need. But being around her is addicting, and I can genuinely say she’s also become one of my best friends.

That’s also a problem. Because even though I wanted to get to know her, I’m worried that I did too good of a job. That she’s put me in the friend zone. The only glimmers of hope I have are when I see her watching me a little longer than she has to while filming for my social media. There was also this one time I swore she moaned when I did a hip stretch in front of her last week, but I brushed it off as my own horny imagination. Because fuck. I’m in a dry spell again.

And it’s not like I can just go and get laid. Stevie takes up all my dreams and fantasies. I’ve tortured myself some nights wondering if she’s sleeping with anyone else, but I’m pretty sure our schedules have kept her from any extracurricular activities. Not that I have any right to her body—we were never together.

Movement catches my eye down the hallway, and I realize I’ve been standing outside her door like a creep. I bring my hand up to the door to knock, but then I realize it’s cracked open. Panic swells in my chest, worry overtaking me. I knock on the door, but nobody answers.

“Stevie? Are you in there?” When she doesn’t answer, I push the door open to find an empty room. I let out a sigh of relief until I see her phone on the bed. My heart rate picks up again as I notice that the bathroom door is shut, and then I hear the sloshing of water. I close and lock the door before walking further into the room.

Is she seriously taking a bath with her hotel room door open? I can’t believe she didn’t lock it. Maybe I’m working her too hard, and I should give her a break. It’s not like her to do something so careless.

The water sloshes again, and my feet take on a mind of their own. I decide I’m just going to knock and let her know I’m here, that her door was unlocked and to be careful, then leave. Work can wait.

But when I hear her cries followed by the sigh of my name on her lips, I stop my hand midair.

Oh, fuck. She’s touching herself and thinking of me? I guess I was right about the sound I heard her make last week. Hope lights in my chest that maybe I still have a chance to change her mind about us, but then I also have to remember this is a private moment. It could mean nothing.

I will my feet to move, to leave and pretend like this never happened, but when I hear my name from her lips again and the slosh of more water, I’m frozen in place.

The image of her in the bath appears behind my eyelids, and I swallow. In my mind, I can see the crest of her wet breasts on top of soapy water, her knees parted as her hand moves between her folds. For a brief moment, I picture what I have for the last few months while I’ve gotten myself off.

After she was done in the bath, I’d carry her flushed body to the bed and bury myself between her legs. I’ve only had brief tastes of her, and I want to know what her pussy feels like coming against my tongue before I fuck her senseless.

All the blood rushes to my cock, and it’s enough to snap me out of my perverted fantasy.

This is wrong. I shouldn’t be standing here picturing this. Guilt pools in my stomach, but at the same time, I also want to yell at her for leaving her door open. She’s lucky it was me who walked in and not some random man.

I step away from the bathroom door and quietly leave her room as if I was never there. Once I confirm the door is shut and the automatic lock clicks, I hightail it toward the gym. I need to blow off some steam so I don’t lose this game tomorrow. And I need to try to get the image of Stevie getting off to me out of my mind.

Even if it did give me hope that I still have a chance with her.

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