Page 60 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“Goddamn it, Lucia. What can I do?” I turn my head sluggishly, just in time to see Sawyer punch the steering wheel. “We’ll be home soon. Just hang in there. Please.”

His words don’t make a lick of sense to me right now, so I just look at his many tattoos. His upper body is completely covered, but I’ve never really looked at them. As my eyes slowly trail up to his neck, I almost jump in my seat. That can’t be…

“Is that a wolf?” I lean closer, my eyes locked on the animal resting on his neck.

“Really?” he barks. “That’s the first thing you say, and you want to know about my tattoo?”

I roll my eyes. “Is it?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Got it years ago. When I was eighteen, I think.”

Without meaning to, I reach out to touch it. Sawyer’s skin pebbles under my fingers, and I once again feel his eyes on me. It feels intimate, more so than any time he’s been inside me. Which is weird, but also oddly… nice.

“Why a wolf?”

He shoots me a strained smile. “Because I wasn’t emo enough to get a fucking butterfly.” His words make me want to smile, but I don’t. I don’t know how to. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to use the muscles in my face. So I just sit there, doing and saying… nothing.

When we arrive at Sawyer’s place, he tells me to stay put. I watch him summon the elevator and place his shoe in the door so it can’t close. Then he comes back to the car, opening the passenger side door, and lifts me into his arms. I snuggle into him, breathing in his unique scent while he carries me with my head resting on his chest.

I’ve never paid much attention to how he smells, but right now it’s all I can think about. It’s… everywhere. Sawyer’s scent envelops me like a warm embrace, a blend of sandalwood and fresh pine that tingles my senses. Beneath the earthy notes, there’s a hint of leather, adding depth to his fragrance. It’s a comforting aroma, masculine yet soft, drawing me in with its subtle allure. Every time I catch a whiff of his cologne, it’s as if I’m transported to a tranquil forest, lost in the rugged beauty of nature and the promise of adventure that Sawyer embodies.

Jesus, my mind is basically waxing poetry about his smell.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing the inside of Sawyer’s apartment. Even though this isn’t my first time here, I feel like I’m seeing it through fresh eyes. Previously, I never paid much attention to how bright and open the place is. Whoever the interior designer is, they’ve done a great job. It’s just the right amount of stylish and homey, without being too much of either.

I know I shouldn’t focus on trivial things like Sawyer’s smell and home decoration, but the way my mind is latching on to any distraction makes it impossible to let it go.

“Who decorated your home?” I ask as I take in the paintings on the wall.

Sawyer gives me a curious look, like he isn’t sure why I’m asking. “My mom did.”

“Is she—” I stop talking when he presses a finger against my lips to silence me.

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

Right, we don’t talk. Knowing what comes next, I wiggle until he puts me down. As soon as my feet touch the carpet, I shrug his shirt and jacket off. Then I unzip my dress and let it pool around my feet. Since I’m not wearing any underwear, I stand naked in front of him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sawyer asks, incredulously. “Why the hell are you getting naked when you’re so cold?”

I stare at him, uncomprehending. “Your rule,” I whisper, reminding him.

He scoffs angrily and rolls his eyes. “Fuck the rules, bunny. All I care about right now is getting you warm.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, I realize I’m still shaking. Not as bad as before, but still enough for him to notice it. I sigh and look up at him. “I can’t get warm as long as Fabian’s around.”

“You do know him.” It’s not a question, but I still nod. “How do you know him?”

“I-I can’t tell you.” My voice cracks, and tears form in my eyes. I blink rapidly, refusing to let them fall. Though it’s been a long time, I still intend to keep my promise to myself about not allowing Fabian to be the reason for more tears.

Sawyer swallows harshly, and I can’t stop looking at his Adam’s apple as it bobs in his throat. “How about we get you into a warm bath, and then you can tell me… at least something.”

Before I can answer, he picks me back up and carries me to his spacious bathroom. I feel a little ridiculous as he sits me down on the toilet while he fills the tub that’s big enough for three people. The splash of the water is soothing, and I feel even more relaxed when the scent of eucalyptus reaches my nostrils.

I eye the fancy glass bottle holding the green liquid. The smell itself isn’t feminine by any means, but the bottle doesn’t seem like something a guy would buy. If it’s leftovers from some puck bunny, I’ll fucking lose my shit. Tonight’s not the night. I don’t care if we’re only faking our relationship—our marriage. I still want the respect, even if it’s faked.

When I look up, Sawyer’s watching me with an amused grin. “What made you look so murderous all of a sudden?”

“Who does that belong to?” I ask, pointing at the bottle.

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