Page 53 of Puck Me Up

Thacker

Every time she closed herself up in this office with me, it took me half the afternoon to recover. I could still smell her. Apples and cinnamon.

I could not afford this obsession. I had ninety-nine problems, and Hope the chef was one of them but Hope the woman was not. She couldn’t be. She had her hands full already. Literally. No matter what Emily said, there was no fucking way that I could or would wade into her overly complicated polyamorous relationship…situation. I had no interest in being fuck toy #3 in her collection.

But god, when she jutted her chin out and crossed her arms, planted her feet and dared me to try and move her, I wanted her so fucking bad that I almost didn’t care about the consequences. I was about ready to jump off a bridge if that’s what it took to have her. Just once.

But AA taught me well. Once was too much, and it would never be enough. Not for me. I wasn’t a quitter. I stayed committed long after it was prudent to do so, whether with women or baseball or alcohol. You name it, I was addicted to it. At least, that’s how I operated before. Now, my addiction had one name.

Hope.

She wanted me to leave her staff to her, but I was more convinced by the day that she was missing something there. Meat was slipping through her fingers.

That Freudian slip brought up some sexy, ridiculous images. I laughed and rubbed my eyes.

And I thought recovery from booze was tough. I might never get over this woman, even long after she quit and left me. Everyone else quit first. I was always the last one at the party. At this party, I was the only one.

And if there’s something else, something between us…

I was dying to know what she had been about to say. What if? But I also knew that I wouldn’t be able to bear it. Whatever it was. Even if it was an open invitation into her bed.

What if itwasan open invitation into her bed?

I sat there dumbly, fighting the caveman that lived in my brain. So what if all she wanted was to use me to slake her apparently insatiable sexual appetite? Wouldn’t I be lucky, just to be her tool? Just for a little while?

At the thought, I popped a semi. I cupped my cock through my pants and adjusted it, but that only made things worse.

I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. I knew I was in for a world of hurt. I knew that there was no way this arrangement could end well. But right now, none of that mattered. The caveman was screaming in my ear, demanding that I go find her, club her over the head, and have my way with her right there on the kitchen floor.

There was no semi to speak of now. I was painfully hard. I needed her more than I’d ever needed any drug, any fix.

I could feel my control slipping.

It was a familiar sensation, one I’d felt since I was a child. Like my willpower was sand on a beach, eroding with every wave.

Soon, I’d have nothing left to stand on.

68.

Hope

I was in the walk-in, freezing my ass off while I re-counted the chicken. Forty thighs, skin-on, bone-in. Fifty-six breasts. Seven pounds of wings, ready to be tossed in our signature gourmet buffalo sauce.

The truth was, we probably had more than we needed here. So why were we perpetually running short? I was at least starting to understand Thacker’s frustration.

The door behind me swung open and I turned in surprise to see him hulking in the doorway, blocking out the light. He stepped in and slammed it behind him. I dropped the clipboard and stared, a deer in headlights as he advanced on me.

I thought he was angry about our heated discussion earlier in the office. His face was obscured in shadow, the dim overhead bulb no match for the enveloping darkness of the walk-in. I stumbled backward and nearly went sprawling over a box of chicken thighs.

When he spoke, his voice was cracked and hoarse.

“Do you have any idea what it does to me?” he rasped. I was opening my mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about, but he took another step forward and silenced me. I had nowhere to go. Our bodies were nearly touching in the cramped, cold space. “Having to be this close to you, day in and day out, without being allowed to put my hands on you? When all I want to do isfuckyou until you scream my name?”

I was speechless, my mind a stubbornly blank slate as it struggled to absorb what he was saying to me. He’d just told me an hour ago that there was nothing between us.

His eyes drifted to my mouth, and he lowered his lips until they were hovering an inch away from mine.

“Tell me to stop,” he begged in a ragged whisper. “Just tell me to walk away and leave you alone.”

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