Page 181 of Pucking Sweet

“I’m not,” he replies. “I’m acknowledging that you engage in self-destructive behaviors as a coping mechanism for managing your deep fear of abandonment.”

I blink twice, letting his words sink in. Then I glare at him. “So what, you’re my fucking shrink now?”

“No, I just know you,” he replies. “I know you better than anyone, Nov. Because I’m your person, remember? Before Poppy was ever even in the picture, you pickedme.”

“Yeah, to be my emergency contact,” I say on a forced laugh. “It was just some form they made me fill out.”

He’s not laughing. “We both know I mean more to you than that.”

I suck in a breath, hands dropping to my sides. “Please, don’t do this.”

He arches a dark brow. “Do what? Chase you? Someone has to. If your default is to bolt every five seconds, your partners better like running. Lucky for you, Poppy and I are both athletes. Have you seen how sexy she looks when she runs?”

I shake my head. “Cole—”

His gaze hardens to iron as he points across the island at me. “Don’t ‘Cole’ me in that shitty fucking tone. I’ve been letting you handle this your way for three fucking weeks now. I gave you time to run, but now you’re done.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes.” He turns that finger around and taps his own chest. “I’min charge now.”

My stomach flips at the sound of command in his tone. “What are you gonna do, huh? Gonna drag me back to Poppy on my knees?”

“Nah.” He pulls my favorite cereal from the shopping bag, setting it on the counter. “When you’re ready to face her on your own, we both know you’re gonna fucking crawl.”

Fuck, why is this turning me on?

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I’m moving in.” He turns away to put the milk, eggs, and cheese in my pathetically empty fridge.

“You’re…what? But Poppy—”

“Is perfectly fine,” he says over me. “Hell, she might even enjoy having me out of her hair for a bit. That’s a small fucking apartment. She’s set with three cartons of Thai food, two Hallmark Christmas movies, and a month’s supply of bath products. If she needs anything, she’ll call me. And she knows I’ll come running.”

Ignoring the rest of the groceries, he slowly starts prowling around the island, all his attention focused on me. “Because that’s what I do, Lukas. I’m a Leo, and I chase after the things I want. I hunt them down, I hold them in my claws, and I shred them the fuck open until I get to their tender beating hearts…and then Idevourthem.I take them inside me until they become part of me. Her heart ismyfucking heart now.” He presses his hand to his chest, fingers splayed. “It beats in my chest. You wanna feel where yours beats?”

I swallow my nerves, not moving. Desperate to make this stop, I say the only thing sure to send him away. “Nothing’s changed, Cole. I still don’t want kids.”

“Let’s just take this one step at a time, yeah?” He sounds like a physical therapist outlining a rehab regimen. “Because you’re right, how could you ever risk loving a child and letting it love you in return when you believe, to your core, that you’re unlovable?”

“Fuck, I’m not doing this.” Panic rising, I turn away, racing for the stairs.

“You’re not ready to tell Poppy you love her, and that’s fine,” he calls after me. “You’re not ready to tell me either, and that’s also fine. God knows you’re not ready for a big happily ever after with commitment, and babies, and that chocolate lava cake in Aruba! But I’m gonna get you ready because I’m an insufferable fucking asshole who’s too Leo to function, and I love you, Lukas Novikov!”

His words chase me up the stairs and into my bedroom. Slamming the door, I try to block him out. I can’t do this. I can’t let him in. I can’t let him care about me. A few days of this, and he’ll get tired and frustrated and go crawling back to Poppy, and then I win. My freedom will be restored. I can survive having him here. I can resist the urge to fall at his feet and beg him not to leave me.

After all, it’s just a few days…

It’s been four days,and I’m totally fucked. The asshole shows no signs of letting up. Cole is like this six-foot-three parasite that’s crawled into my house and infested every part of my life—my fridge, my DVR, my laundry pile, my fucking bed.

Yeah, on the first night, he gave me an hour to cool off before he came tiptoeing into my bedroom. I was laying there with the lights off, wide awake. I told him to leave, and he told me to shut up. Then he stripped down to his boxers, got in my bed, and fell asleep in underfive minutes.

He hasn’t touched me. Hasn’t even tried.

Frankly, I don’t know what I want here. So long as he keeps not touching me, I get to feel this exquisite squirming, aching, bleeding kind of pain of desperation that is really pairing well with my crippling doubt and self-loathing.

But if he does touch me…well, then I’ll get to shatter like a glass Christmas ornament, fall at his feet, and beg him to fuck me. Knowing Cole, if I beg prettily enough, he’ll do it.

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