Egotistical Puckboy (Puckboys 1)

I get back into my suit and check my phone, noticing an email from my agent. It’s a YouTube link to the cologne ad I shot during the off-season.

Anton’s smart TV catches my eye.

I might not be comfortable with staying in his bed, but if he wants me here, I’ll give it to him.

I grab the remote and flick through to YouTube on his TV. Then find my ad and put it on a loop. I only wish I could be here to see his face when he wakes up to my presence.

Ten

ANTON

When I wake up to the sound of Ezra’s voice and his face swimming in my hazy vision, I assume I’m in some sort of fever dream … or nightmare. I squint around the bright light coming through my bedroom window and focus on the TV. On Ezra. In a commercial?

I watch in horror as Ezra smolders at the camera, shots of his face interspersed with shots of a cologne, and his voiceover of random words mixing with the wannabe rock music. The whole thing is terrible.

But damn.

He looks sexy.

I palm my morning wood, too lazy to do anything about it. If Ezra had stayed last night, I could have put his mouth to good use again. I’ve never had road head before and probably won’t again, because the number of times I almost crashed was concerning. It felt way too good.

And is yet another example of me letting Ezra wreck my brain.

I’d never normally do something like that because it doesn’t take much for the car beside you to work out what’s happening and snap a picture, but that voice of reason disappeared at approximately the same second Ezra’s lips wrapped around my dick.

It’s no wonder he’s always getting himself into trouble.

Fifteen minutes later, and I’m still in bed watching the screen. Idiot.

I kick off my covers and strip the bed, then toss the sheets in the wash. I’ve got a long drive ahead of me today, and then tomorrow we’re right back into practice.

The thought of driving all that way only to have a hotel room waiting for me on the other side is depressing. I really need to find a place to live.

When I walk out of my apartment, I do so knowing it’s the last time.

Most of my clothes are already in Boston, and the remainder of my crap will be boxed up and shipped with a moving company. When I sell, the furniture will be included.

Sure, I might love my apartment and my car, but the smaller material things aren’t something I get attached to.

Unfortunately for me, five hours in a car and then meeting Boston traffic leaves me with way too much time to think.

And no matter how many times I go over plays and team dynamics, my thoughts keep circling back to Ezra.

There’s no denying I’m attracted to him. His caramel-colored hair and ice-blue eyes combo makes him one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen. At first I wasn’t a fan of the beard, but the way it scraped my abs and thighs last night has effectively changed my mind, and if we’re going to hook up again, he’s sure as hell keeping it.

If we hook up again?

Urg. Nope.

I’ve slipped twice now, and while it’s stupid to regret it, I also know it wasn’t the most well-thought-out move I’ve ever made.

We have to work together. We have to find a way past our animosity to something almost civil in order to do the job we’re being paid to do. Sure, fucking it out of our system helps, but that’s a short-term solution. I can’t imagine how hooking up with a teammate could ever end well.

If the rumors are true, Ezra’s most likely done with me now. He never stays focused on one man for long. Well, except for whatever that thing was between him and Westly.

Apparently, they were dating, but not. Sleeping together, but not exclusive. I shake my head as I check my mirrors and overtake the car in front of me.

When I’m with a man, I’m far too possessive to share. Sure, I’ve had threesomes with one-night stands that were hot as hell, but they’re always very discreet, and never with anyone I’d see again.

With a boyfriend or partner or someone I’m seeing regularly—even if he does happen to be a smartass with a big mouth—it’s exclusive or nothing with me.

Which is reason number seven hundred and fifteen for why last night was just us working out our tension together.

But I know if he comes at me again, I’ll find it very hard to say no.

There’s something about being with Ezra that’s addictive.

He doesn’t put on a show; he doesn’t hide how he feels even though he probably should when he’s with me. He’s uninhibited. I like it. I also like him clenched around my cock, but that’s different.