Page 8 of Desperate Pucker (Denver Bashers #6)

Maddy

Istumble out of the training room, feeling dizzy and hot all over.

That cocky bastard.

I dart down the hallway and fall against the wall. I’m breathing hard. Like, way too hard. I’m borderline panting.

All because I looked at Ryker’s bare ass for ten seconds.

What is wrong with me?

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been two years since I’ve seen a guy naked—not since I broke up with my ex and swore off dating and relationships altogether.

Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never, ever seen a man naked who looks like Ryker.

I blink, the visual of his gorgeous, sculpted ass burned into my brain.

I’m not usually thrown off by a fit body. My ex was a figure skater. He was fit.

But Ryker is ripped. He looks like his physique was carved from marble. Like one of those Roman statues of the human form brought to life.

I’ve never, ever seen a body like his. He looked so…manly. That burst of dark hair at the center of his chest, dusting over the hard lines of his pecs…the way it trailed down his abs, disappearing underneath that washcloth he was using to cover up his dick.

His very large dick.

Just from seeing the outline of it underneath his towel, I can tell he’s massive.

My cheeks heat, and I’m instantly annoyed. I clear my throat and fan myself with my hand.

I can’t stand this guy. He’s a smug jerk who thinks I’m clueless and spoiled. I shouldn’t be so physically attracted to him.

I tell myself it’s because I haven’t had sex in two years, not because he’s one of the hottest guys I’ve seen in my life. Yeah. We’ll go with that.

I push off the wall and head back toward my office when my phone rings.

When I see that it’s my mom, I answer.

“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“Hey, darlin’. You haven’t looked at the news today yet, have you?”

I frown at the hesitation in her voice. “No, why?”

She pauses. “It’s Sergei. He’s engaged. To Natalia.”

I stop dead in my tracks. My legs wobble, and it feels like the floor is falling out under my feet.

I plant my free hand on the nearby wall. “What?”

“Oh, darlin’. I am so sorry.” Her tone is soft and gentle. That doesn’t make hearing this news any easier, though.

She starts to speak again, but I don’t hear her. All I can focus on is the fact that my cheating ex is engaged to the woman who he cheated on me with…who also won gold the year I blew it and got bronze.

I clear my throat and try to steady my voice. “I didn’t know they were still together.”

“I just didn’t want you to see it on sports news or entertainment news and feel blindsided.”

“Right.” I let out a breath, my chest tight. I know my mom meant well, but this news feels like a kick to the throat.

My ex upgraded. He went from a failed, disgraced figure skater to an Olympic gold medalist.

Tears burn in my eyes. I swallow hard and clear my throat. “I have to go, Mom. I’m late for a meeting,” I lie.

I stand in the hallway, slumped against the wall, feeling like the biggest loser on the planet.

It’s not supposed to go this way. Sergei the serial cheater isn’t supposed to live happily ever after with a beloved figure skating darling. Not after the way he treated me.

I think back to the six years we dated. All those comments he made about my body and my eating habits.

How he’d pinch the fleshy part of my hips when he thought I was carrying extra weight…

how he’d lecture me about empty calories if I got hungry past nine at night and wanted a snack…

how he’d side-eye me anytime I went for seconds or ordered dessert…

You really have to watch what you eat, babe. You’re bigger than the other girls in this sport. Even a few extra pounds make you look kind of fluffy.

I’d never call you fat, but coaches would. I’m just trying to help you be the best skater you can be.

You skate better when you’re down a few pounds. You’re so much faster and more graceful.

My stomach churns at how, for the entirety of our relationship, I struggled with disordered eating…and how I never once defended myself when he insulted my body or weight. How I just went along with what he said, hoping it would make him love me more.

I tried to be the tiny, delicate figure skater he wanted on his arm.

And in the end, I found out he was hooking up with other women behind my back for almost our entire relationship.

I realized I’d never, ever be good enough for him, no matter what I did.

No matter how hard I tried to change myself.

Hot tears stream down my cheeks as I search his name on the news app on my phone.

His handsome, smiling face appears along with Natalia’s.

Figure skating golden couple engaged!

I skim the news article, then spot the comments below. I shouldn’t read them, but I’m too curious.

Aww cutest couple ever!

Their babies are gonna be beautiful!

Didn’t he date some other figure skater? Madeline Macer?

Sergei upgraded for sure. His ex was the psycho chick who freaked out at the Olympics. At least Natalia doesn’t have temper tantrums on live TV

She’s a step up from that spoiled brat he used to date

My stomach churns. My chest feels unbearably tight.

“Hey.” Ingrid’s voice pulls me out of my pity stupor.

I look up and see her standing in front of me, her eyebrows knit in concern.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

I wipe my face. “Um, yeah. All good.”

She gives me a small, pitying smile. “You sure?”

My instinct is to downplay, to push aside my emotions and pretend I’m fine.

But I just don’t have the energy right now. Not after seeing my ex get everything he ever wanted after treating me like crap.

I blink, and a fresh wave of tears fall. “It’s a long story.” I sniffle and let out a sad-sounding chuckle.

Ingrid offers a soft smile. She digs a tissue from the pocket of her jeans and hands it to me.

“Does it involve a guy?” she asks in a sweet voice.

I nod. “My ex. How’d you know?”

She pats my arm as I dab at my face with the tissue. “I’ve been there.” Sincerity flashes in her pretty blue eyes. “Wanna grab a drink after work and you can tell me all about it?”

I manage a small smile, touched by her kindness.

I don’t know Ingrid well. Her parents are friends with my dad.

I’ve met her a few times before I started this job.

But ever since I joined the Bashers, she’s been so welcoming to me, offering to grab coffee for me if she sees me when she walks by my office in the mornings.

A warm feeling gathers in my chest. I can’t remember the last time I hung out with a friend to vent or even just chat.

I was so focused on figure skating most of my life that all my friendships fell by the wayside.

And when I crashed out at the Olympics two years ago, I didn’t have any friends to lean on.

It was my own fault. That’s what happens when you forgo friendships and choose your career over everything else.

I’ve felt so lonely over the past two years. It would be nice to talk to her—to have a new friend.

“I’d like that,” I say softly.

Ingrid beams and gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “Is it okay if I invite a few of my friends? They’re great at trashing exes.”

It’s been so long since I’ve hung out with a group. Part of me is nervous that they’ll think I’m pathetic or weird.

“They’re the best girl group ever,” Ingrid says, as if she can sense my hesitation. “You’re going to feel a million times better, promise.”

“Okay, sure.”