Page 120 of My Pucking Crush

“To be with you in public. Feel like you’re mine and I’m yours. Without caring who saw.”

My throat swells with heat. “Seriously?”

Rage fires in his gray eyes. “Excuse me? Yes, I’m serious. You’re fucking gay, Max. Queer. Homosexual. Homonormative. It’s who you are.”

“I’m not denying that. I mean, I...”

“You should have stuck up for Oliver. Standing up for a gay friend doesn’t automatically mean you’re gay. You can just be the bigger, decent person who doesn’t want to see someone discriminated for who they fucking love.”

So, Luca had heard the conversation. Fuck, he makes it sounds so easy.

Shaking my head, I choke out, “Why didn’t you say something?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re glad I didn’t say something because you would have seen my knee meeting that guy’s nose then shoving my cock into his face while I come all over him.” His visceral passion stuns me.

“Look...”

“No.Youlook. Go take a walk, Max. I need a break from you.”

“Fine. Let me put my clothes on.”

He cocks his head. “I think not.”

My shocked eyes watch him stomp to my house andclose the patio doors. “You’re not fucking serious, are you?”

He smiles, clicking the lock.

I frantically look around. Surely, I brought my phone out here. Nope. It’s in his hand and he’s waving it at me.

“Open this fucking door!” I yell, ready to say more but stop fearing I’ll get my neighbor’s attention. That’s not how I want to meet him.

These houses are insanely expensive, the guy could be a shark lawyer from Manhattan who likes to sue people for indecent exposure. I spin around, search for any loose cushions I may have left out to cover my cock while I figure out what to do.

Luca activates the shades inside the sliders, so I can’t see him. He’s fucking serious all right. I sit in the hot tub for a while, brooding over the fight until my skin prunes and I’m chilled. I knock on the door, but after a few minutes, it’s clear Luca isn’t going to answer.

Holy shit. Looks like I’m meeting my neighbor.

Please, don’t let it be a damn bachelorette party...

SIXTY-FOUR

Max

It’s that damn naked-in-public dream come true. And it’s even more terrifying being awake for it. At least I have two hands to cover my junk.

My eyes feverishly look on the deck of my neighbor’s house for a stray towel. Nothing. Who the fuck lives there?

This is what I get for being anti-social.

My heart rate spikes as my skin cools. My neighbor’s back sliders are sans any window treatments. Fuck, they’ll see me before I see them. Great. Staying out of their vision, I peer in and notice several bodies. Very tall. All dudes. Thank fuck.

I take one last glance at the ocean, and breathe in to steady my nerves. When a roar of distant thunder cracks, I spin around. My foot wobbles from something unsteady lying on the ground. I lose my balance and my ass hits the patio door.

That’s one way to knock.

Instincts force me to turn around, and four sets of eyes are trained on me. One set belongs to a woman and the others, three men. A very mean looking dog bares his teeth at me. Fuck, make that five sets. This could be a problem.

The wide, surprised eyes from a guy with sandy-blond hair, tied up in a manbun registers familiarity. He rushes to the door and opens it for me. “Max?”

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