Page 25 of Flagrant Foul (Totally Pucked #3)

Sev Delorean

“Aren’t you cold?” I ask hopefully.

We’re in the apartment, and Teddy’s wearing nothing but boxer briefs and his usual assortment of jewelry.

For the first couple of days after this crazy seduction thing started, he went around shirtless but kept his pants on.

At the time, I found that hard to handle.

I had no idea that in the blink of an eye, I’d be longing for that level of torture.

For the last three days, he’s upped the ante, dropped the pants, and has taken to swanning around in nothing but his underwear.

The first day, they were white. Then black. Then gray. Today, they’re sky blue.

I’m trying not to look, but today’s pair is brief . They look brand new, like they haven’t been worn before. The fabric is smooth and unbobbled. The elastic is perfect. No ripples or signs of being stretched in the wash .

They’re fucking snug, that’s all I can say, and they’re so short that when he turns around, I’m treated to a lobotomizing view of his ass.

His ass on a good day is enough to make me weak.

On a bad sky-blue boxer brief day with a hint of two half-moons of butt cheek peeking at me, it’s almost too much.

“Nope,” he says. “I’m fine, thanks. I told you before that I don’t really feel the cold. If you’re cold, I can turn the heat up for you.”

There’s no need. It’s balmy in here, and God knows, I’m hot under the collar.

“I’m okay. I’m just worried you’ll get sick,” I lie.

He puts his hand over his mouth and makes a cute sound.

“Sev,” he says sweetly, “Did you know that when you lie, you look left before you speak?”

He smiles and darts his eyes up and to the left to show me what he means before bringing them back to me. For some idiotic reason, that’s cute too. Embarrassing and cute because it’s unnerving as hell that he knows me so well.

“I don’t mind when you lie to me, especially about this because I know it means you’re looking, but it’s worth bearing in mind when you play poker and things like that. ”

I choose not to dignify that with an answer.

I take a deep breath, and as I breathe out, I relax my eyes to soften my focus.

A mercifully blurred Teddy makes his way from the left to the right of the room, and I manage not to react.

He picks up whatever it was that he walked over to get and then walks from the right of the room to the left.

His ass cheeks bunch and relax as he moves.

Glutes engage and extend. Engage and extend.

Each time it happens, a little more flesh peeks out at me.

Eventually, I crack. “I think you should put some pants on.”

“But I’m comfortable like this.” His lips curl and he blitzes me with a dazzling faux-innocent smirk. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“I want you to be happy with pants on,” I grind out.

Bells chime, ringing as clearly as bells on a Sunday morning.

I look down at my phone in my hand and attempt to type yet another message to Nate.

Bro, we have a problem. I don’t think this living arrangement is gonna work out.

I delete it and try again.

Seriously, bro. I think maybe I should find somewhere else to live. Lockie’s not all that bad. Tee can handle him.

Fuck no! There’s no way I can send that.

Lockie’s the fucking worst. There’s no way he can be trusted to live with Teddy.

The guy was virtually sexually harassing Teddy in the locker room the other day.

He’d lose his mind if he saw him in this skimpy fucking underwear. No. There’s no way I can allow that.

Nate would be so worried about Teddy if Lockie were living here. He’d never survive it. I can’t do that to him.

Teddy is standing at his fish tank by the time I look up.

Please God, don’t let him start playing with his fish.

Of course he does play with Ragnar. He loves his fucking fish and plays with him all the time. He says Ragnar likes it. He says the fish recognizes him and is happy to see him. He says Betta fish need stimulation and personal connection to keep them content. He calls it enrichment .

Sadly, watching him play with his goddamn fish might be the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.

He trails his finger lightly along three sides of the tank. I still feel a low level of surprise, but every time Teddy does it, Ragnar does seem interested and follows Teddy’s finger as he moves it .

“Did you have fun at Mae’s?” Teddy murmurs, face pushed up near the tank.

He waits for a beat, but naturally, Ragnar doesn’t answer.

“Oh, Raggie. You’re such a beautiful asshole, d’you know that?

If you weren’t so violent, I’d get you a friend.

You could have so much fun playing together, but no, you’d fight them, wouldn’t you?

” He raises his voice and talks to me over his shoulder.

“He would, you know. Betta splendens fight to the death if you make them share a tank with another fish.” He turns back to Ragnar.

“I’d never do it because I’d feel too sorry for those other fish.

They wouldn’t stand a chance against you. ”

Please, Lord. I’m tired.

“Come see how happy he is to see me, Sev.”

I get up despite myself, or because of myself, and walk over.

Between you and me, I’m one hundred percent sure no fish has ever been happy to see their owner.

I don’t think they give a shit about people.

I doubt they’d even notice if a different person fed them every day of their lives. I’ve told Teddy this several times.

By the time I get to the tank, he’s on his knees. Before I have time to ask why, he says, “Hide.”

“What do you mean by hide?”

“I mean, hide, so Ragnar can’t see me, so you can see the difference when he does see me. ”

I can’t think of a way to refute that, and the last thing I need is a second longer of standing behind a sky-blue boxer-brief-clad Teddy O’Reilly on all fours. I get down on my knees next to him and the two of us duck until he deems it appropriate to raise our heads again.

He taps my arm. “Look now,” he says as he pops his head back into Ragnar’s view.

Huh?

It’s hard to explain, but believe it or not, I think this fucking fish might actually be happy to see Teddy.

Teddy moves his head to the far side of the tank, and Ragnar follows.

He moves it back again, and again, Ragnar follows.

His dorsal fin flaps gently, causing a riot of reds, pinks, and purples to fan out behind him like a silk scarf blowing in a breeze.

His pectoral fins flutter happily, and he bobs in the water, blowing bubbles in Teddy’s direction.

“See?”

Teddy turns to me, and his face is filled with such wonder that I have to press my lips together hard to stop a punched sound from escaping. “Maybe,” I concede.

“Not maybe. Definitely.” He gets up and offers me a hand. I take it, and he pulls me up. “Would you like to feed him?”

“Sure. Why not. ”

He opens a small container and holds it out to me. I take a single pellet.

“Now, hold it like this.” Teddy takes a pellet between his forefinger and thumb and dips it an inch or so into the water.

Ragnar swims up and takes it immediately. When he’s swallowed it, I offer him my pellet. He stays right where he is and shoots me a look that says something like, “Back off, bitch. He’s mine.”

I understand the sentiment, though I’m not happy that I’m essentially putting words into a fish’s mouth.

“Told you he’s an asshole,” Teddy says proudly.

“Like owner, like fish,” I tease.

Teddy laughs, and that, combined with the lamp from the tank throwing dappled light across his face, is a sight so beautiful, the joints in my knees almost give way.

He leans in like he’s about to tell me a secret. Like a fucking idiot, I lean in too. “D’you know what this fin is called?” He motions to the fin that runs down the middle of Ragnar’s underbody from belly to tail. He presses his lips together to try to suppress a giggle. “An anal fin.”

His eyes crease and light bounces off his teeth. His laughter starts as a rough snort that makes his shoulders hitch up and quickly unravels into a seraphic sound I feel all over my face.

This is it.

This is my problem.

This is what I have more of a problem with than anything else. This is what’s getting under my skin even more than his chest and his nipples. More than his legs and the curve of his ass. It’s Teddy being silly and playful and sweet that puts my brain through a blender.

When he’s like this, I remember. I remember everything.

I remember that before he got prickly and angry, I was convinced he was the sweetest boy in the world, and more than that, he was my friend.

When he’s like this, laughing at nothing, but laughing so hard his eyes are almost closed, it takes everything I have not to grab him, hold on to him tightly, and whisper I miss you into his ear.