Page 8 of Puck Me Twice Over

“Knox?” Flick’s tentative voice killed me the moment she spoke.

I did that. I scared the shit out of her intentionally. First, because of who I was. The impulsive version of me who took what I wanted, dragged her to my house without asking, and told her where she’d be sleeping. And second? The intent behind the former. When I said we’d be sharing a bed, I meant it. In every way. Because at that moment, I wanted to claim her again.

We shared all our firsts, except for one. And damn if I didn’t want to take that back somehow, even if logically I knew that time was long past.

“I’m here, sweetness.” I bowed my head, stretching the tendons around my neck. “Did you keep that water nice and hot for me?”

“Yes?” Her voice came out almost a whisper, but that, like the presence of her in my home, filled the space like no one else had since I bought the property years ago.

“Good. I’m gonna go work out some of these knots. Then I’ll tuck you in.”

“Oh.”

I swallowed hard at the sound of her disappointment that lanced deep. My short nails cut divots into my palms as I squeezed my knuckles into fists, willing control over myself. She’s right fucking there. Which was half the problem.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa, sweetness. Be your knight just like you want. All right?"

My throat tightened on that last. She needed the nice guy. I could maintain the facade for one more day, for her. For now. I kept my voice soft, even if that was the only part of me that wanted to play that game right now. My back remained to her because if I saw her in my clothes, the scent of me on her, it was game fucking over.

“You didn’t shower at the stadium?” Confusion laced Felicity’s voice.

I grinned, rubbing my hand over my mouth. “I showered, otherwise you wouldn't be able to be in the same room with me—” I broke my own rule, swinging around.

If the best/worst thing that happened to Felicity Murphy was walking into my house tonight, then the best/worst thing for me was seeing her wear my clothes.

I swallowed over a hard lump the size of my heart that rose into my throat. “Jesus, Flick.”

“Huh?” Her eyes went wide as she looked down, fiddling with the hem of my long sleeved tee. “Is it too short? I didn’t have anything—” Her chin rose too fast, then dipped, but not fast enough to hide the fiery blush that overtook her fair skin.

I crossed the small space between us and caught her chin, raising her face back to mine. The fact she stood before me in nothing but my t-shirt that hung to her knees as predicted with not a skerrick of underwear beneath left me dizzy with need.

Get it together, Vandevere.

“You look beautiful, Felicity," I murmured, gentling my hold on her chin. My dark fingers cast a hell of a contrast against her pale, warm skin.

“No.” Her eyes widened again, then her lashes swept down, negating my words.

I frowned. How long had it been since someone told her she was beautiful? Apparently Garry-boy hadn’t held up his end of the boyfriend bargain. I hoped I saw him soon for a lesson in how to treat a girl… Not that I’d set a perfect example tonight.

“I want to tell you that you are,” I murmured, lost in her pretty hazel eyes. She’d always had these gorgeous brown and gold streaks that reminded me of fall. The perfect time to snuggle together and just be. Christ, I was a hopeless romantic who ended up being a player. “What happened to us, Flick?”

She stared back at me and didn’t say anything.

We both knew what happened. She ran away to a different future and moved on. And I… I didn’t.

Or more to the point I did, and we still ended up here, anyway. Whatever the hell here was.

I dropped my hand and took a step back. “I’m gonna have that shower and work my shit out,” I said in a low voice. Flick backed away, nodding. “Climb into bed, sweetness. I’ll be back soon.”

The look on her face was torn somewhere between pure terror and ultimate need. I didn’t need a mirror to know that her expression mirrored mine as I wheeled about and headed for the shower.

Cold water was the king of the night.

CHAPTER FOUR

FELICITY

Knox’s bed was too big. Well, too big for me, anyway. I floundered between the sheets, hot and cold at once. “How do you work this thing?” I grumbled, floundering in an excess of negative space. This bed was never intended for one person alone. And yet, he slept here each night, just him. But of course, Knox was double my size. Triple. He probably didn’t get lost between his own blankets.