Page 34 of My Pucking Crush

“No.”

“Know all about me?”

“I know everything about you,” he says, low and husky, tightening my balls.

“Is that so?” I smell his cologne, and mouthwash. It’s wrapped in a delicious heat I want to fall asleep in.

What. The. Hell?

Luca looks down and with a tight frown, says, “Sorry. Don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” I say quicky. “In fact, you’ve been unbelievably easy to live with.”

The psycho sexual tension aside.

Everything should feel off because now I have a damn bodyguard following me everywhere. Watching me. With eyes that drink me in.

We engage in polite conversation in the apartment. Ican’t escape his presence.

“I grew up around people who need bodyguards,” Luca says with no emotion. “Seen many jerks come and go, but the ones who the bosses kept around...” He clears his throat. “Let’s just say, I know how to handle people like you.”

I’m not sure what to make of that. “And this new job you said you’re getting?”

He tightens his fist. “Not a bodyguard.”

“Ah...” He killed people for his last boss. Who then tried to kill him.

We reach the main floor where a Town Car is waiting with the driver standing by the open trunk. He reaches for my bag and I hand it over, but Luca doesn’t take the man’s help.

He makes me feel like a spoiled wuss.

It’s a short ride to the airfield where our team plane sits in a hangar. Every road trip is like a weekend bachelor party in Vegas. The team is all high-fives and fist bumps.

A few guys are married, but most are single. Some of the husbands look miserable because they miss their families. Others are thankful for the break.

What kind of husband would I be?

And... Nothing.

Nothing comes into my head. No picture of a faceless woman with a baby forms in my imagination. My brain has no idea how to put that together. Because it won’t happen for me. Not with a woman. That’ssofucking clear.

Maybe I’ll have a husband...

My eyes stray to Luca with the security team. Those guys are serious. Most are ex-cops who already have firearm licenses.

All the guards dress in suits like him, buttheylooklike funeral directors. Luca looks like a runway model.

I sit with Troy Madison, who I also usually room with. In the minors, my coach changed it up to keep guys on their toes and always out of our comfort zones.

Five hours later, the plane lands, and a wall of warm, muggy Texas air hits me as I descend the airstairs.

Sweat drips down my back on the short walk to the coach bus waiting for us. It takes us right to the stadium while our bags are stored at the hotel for our one-night stay.

IN A WHITE-KNUCKLEnailbiter, we win against Houston clinching our spot in the playoffs. There are eight teams in our Eastern North Conference, but only four teams make it to the postseason.

As we’re celebrating in the locker room, my mind drifts to Richmond, stealing my joy. The only way they can claim their spot is if they beat us this weekend.

I don’t want to beat them. I want toevisceratethem for what they did to me.

---