Page 71 of My Pucking Crush

I’m torn between wanting to spill out my horrific secret, my worst shame, to see what Luca is made of. Can he handle being with a rape victim? Either I tell him and let him bow out of this, whatever the hellwe’re doing now, or risk falling for this guy. And risk that he’ll find out somehow, run some background check on me. Then dump me for this, and not his excuse that he’s leaving the team.

Like when Jake left me.

I can feel my heart being ripped out of my chest.

“It’s some heavy shit,” I say in warning.

“I can handle it,” he says, his hand firm on my shoulder.

“Um. Okay, here goes.” I swallow. “When my father found out about me. The real...me. He felt I needed some butching up.”

“You?” Luca sounds astonished.

“I was fourteen. Scrawny, but strong,” I defend myself. “My father saw all gays as weak.”

“Fuck,” Luca mutters. “If you tell me...”

“Yeah... He asked his brother to toughen me up. Not realizing my uncle was a child molester.”

Luca hops up to sit beside me. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I wish I were.” I clear my throat. “I don’t want to go into details, other than he forced himself on me...for an entire week.”

“What the hell?” A murderous scowl creeps across his lips. “And you’ve had nightmares about him ever since?”

“I used to, but not lately.” I shrug. “I think sleeping in the same bed as you awakened them.”

“Ouch.” Luca’s hands hover over me but he doesn’t touch me.

“I’m fine,” I murmur, catching my breath.

Luca leaves my side to go into the bathroom. A slice of light brightens the otherwise pitch-black room. Water runs in the vanity, and when I look that way, the outline of a naked man tightens my chest.

Beautifully sculpted shoulders and curved pecs. Not skinny arms and a chest of coarse hair that reeks of cigarettes and booze.

Luca is a god in his own right. Tough but elegant. Classy and sincere.

Returning to my side, he wraps a cool washcloth on the back of my neck. I flinch, but he doesn’t react.

“Don’t push me away,” he whispers. “It’s me. I want to help you. Icareabout you. Listen to my words and process them. Iwon’thurt you.”

I feared being in the same house with Uncle Harris, and after that weekend, I installed a bolt on my door for whenever he visited.

I eventually give in to Luca’s touch and drop back onto the bed. I hide the emotion of what having sex with Luca, who I know wants to fuck me too, stirred up in me.

I find Luca incredibly hot. That brooding attitude and the way he takes no shit from me is bringing me to my knees.

Literally.

Having him come down my throat and fucking him should have made sleeping with him less awkward, but I’m facing something I didn’t expect. A growing attachment to a man I don’t have a future with.

“Is he the reason you asked me to take that shower?” Luca asks, figuring out where the fear of toxic male body odor comes from.

And it’s not the same as pure, male sweat from the rush of playing hockey.

“You are perfect, Luca,” I say with a scoff. “And dammit, you always smell good.”

Every morning, his curly hair is slicked back, wet from a fresh shower. I like his commitment to hygiene. His fresh, clean smell is like cat-nip to me.

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