Page 53 of Flagrant Foul (Totally Pucked #3)

Sev Delorean

My phone buzzes, and a now-familiar stab of dread attacks my side, making it hard not to wince.

You okay, bud? You’ve been super quiet lately.

Worried about you.

The blade twists, morphing into an icy blast of bone-deep guilt.

It’s all good. Been busy, lots going on. That’s all.

Nothing’s wrong.

Do you swear?

Dammit. Nate and his overdeveloped capacity to worry about people he loves.

I swear.

Well, I’ll be there next week to check up on you in person.

I swallow hard.

Can’t wait.

It’s been a long week. Dizzyingly perfect in every way. That is, every way except for the fact that it’s Wednesday, and Nate and the LA Edges are going to be in Tampa on Friday for the game.

The reckoning I’ve spent most of my adult life actively trying to avoid is headed straight at me.

I’ve been trying not to let myself think about it too much because overthinking doesn’t change anything and only makes me feel worse.

My overriding emotion when I think of Nate getting here is a deep, heavy no . It’s a hard push. Both hands and my full body weight trying to hold something terrible at bay. That, and lashings of sadness that find me and slice into me during the night.

Teddy’s on edge too. Or at least I think he is.

He feels it differently from the way I feel it.

He feels it as fear. He’s afraid, not of what Nate’s going to say or do, but of how I’ll react when he does.

He wants to be certain of me, and he almost is.

There are times when I think he might be.

Times he looks at me, and I see a steady gaze of blind faith.

True belief that I’m the man he thinks I am. The man he wants me to be.

At other times, he wavers. There’s a pale-blue quiver in the eyes I only want to see smiling. A bunching of jaw muscle when he thinks I’m not looking. A soft, urgent whisper when his arms are around my neck and his mouth is close to my ear.

“We’re not doing anything wrong, Sev.” He says it over and over as though doing so will somehow make it true.

“’Course we are,” I reply with a forced smile.

“We aren’t. It’s not like we’re breaking the law. We’re both consenting ad—”

I cut him off, holding on to him tightly and whispering into his hair.

“We are, and we both know it. Don’t fuck your bud’s baby brother .

” I release my grip on him and tilt his chin up to face me.

“It’s right there at the top of the Bro Code.

It might not be a law, but it’s a serious infraction, Tee.

A red card and an ejection from the game… It’s a foul. A flagrant foul. ”

He winces and looks away. “What are we going to do when he gets here?”

“ We’re not going to do anything. I’m going to talk to him. I’m going to be honest and see if I can reason with him, and you’re going to stay out of it.” His eyes narrow and there’s a flash of acid I haven’t had aimed at me in weeks. I haven’t missed it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve it.

“Fine.” He huffs. “D’you want to, like, come up with a game plan or whatever?”

“Nah. I want to try not to think about it until I absolutely have to. We have a couple of days before shit gets real, so let’s try to enjoy this while we can.

Let’s not think about it. You know what?

Let’s go out. Why don’t we go and do something nice?

I’ll take you out for a meal. A nice steak, or something like that. What do you think?”

Acid is slowly neutralized. “I guess I could go for a steak.”

He starts heading toward his bedroom to get ready, but stops and doubles back. “I forgot to tell you,” he says, pointing to the kitchen counter, “something arrived for you.”

I don’t remember ordering anything, but the mailer is addressed to me, so I must have. I rip it open and do my best to swallow a chuckle. I ordered it weeks ago under extreme duress and forgot all about it.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It’s nothing.” That only serves to pique his curiosity.

“Show me.”

I shake out a boxy black T-shirt and hold it up for him to read what’s printed on it: Goalies Are Weird .

“Goalies are weird?” His jaw drops, lips forming a big square of indignation. “Goalies are weird? Where the hell did you get that idea?” He sniffs and tilts his head back. His lips curl into a sinfully pretty smile. “It’s ’cause I talk to my fish, isn’t it?”

I shake my head, smiling.

“Is it because I like things in threes? Because if it is, you should know rituals have been scientifically proven to improve performance.” I shake my head again, smiling harder.

His brow creases. “If it’s because of the way I dance on the ice, Sev, that is ridiculous.

I told you, I feel the music in my hips. I can’t help it.”

He’s so adorable and so gorgeous. I take his face in my hands and kiss him hard on the mouth.

“I ordered it a while back,” I explain, “during the erm, seduction. You know, when you were luxuriating in the apartment in sky-blue boxer briefs that cooked my brain to a crisp… I thought if I got it for you, you might wear it , and I’d be able to be around you and sane at the same time.”

“Oh, Sev,” he says, shaking his head sympathetically. “How you underestimate me.”

He takes the T-shirt from me and lays it on the kitchen counter, taking care to smooth it out nice and flat. He gets the kitchen scissors from the top drawer and begins hacking at the T-shirt with an excess of self-assurance.

“What are you doing?” I ask dumbly.

“Taking a page from your playbook, bad boy.”

In a matter of minutes, the T-shirt is in tatters, sleeveless and profoundly cropped, and Teddy is standing in the kitchen in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.

I’m not sure, but I think I mumble something about déjà vu as he pulls the remaining scrap of the garment over his head.

He’s been liberal with his alterations, that’s all I can say.

The armholes are long and deep, perfectly accentuating the balls of his shoulders and the swell of his biceps.

When he moves, I’m treated to glimpses of his armpits and flashes of milky flesh that come tantalizingly close to exposing his nipples.

“Is this part of the seduction?” I can tell from my speech that he’s knocked twenty, if not thirty, points off my IQ .

“Why? Are you feeling seduced, handsome?” He says handsome like it’s about my looks. Like it’s a compliment. Like it’s something he means.

“A little bit,” I croak.

I wasn’t aware of it before, but as he starts moving, I become conscious that music is playing.

It comes at me from far away at first, quietly traveling under the floorboards, closing the space between Teddy and me.

The beat enters my body through my hands and feet, spilling daydreams directly into my veins.

Synthesizers and layered keyboards thread vintage sounds together, creating an intoxicating rhythm.

“What’s with this old-ass song?” I ask.

Teddy raises a lazy shoulder. “I hear it at Mae’s all the time. I like it.”

Gary Wright’s husky voice scratches lightly at the back of my neck as “Dream Weaver” winds magic around the room.

Around Teddy. Around me. A gauzy ribbon of sound tightens, bringing us closer together.

The chorus builds and finds its way to Teddy’s hips.

It turns them to liquid, rolling them loosely in a slow, controlled figure eight.

His abs tense. Lines form on his belly. I circle his waist and pull him as close as I can get him. Dreamy blue eyes whisper my name .

When I kiss him, the ground beneath me gives way and I feel like I’m falling. Through floors. Through foundations. Through Earth’s surface.

“Lose the underwear,” I say when he breaks free of my grip and strides purposefully toward the bedroom. “But keep the top on.”

I’m a little lightheaded, most likely because for a while there, I was the one with my head dangling off the edge of the bed as Teddy fed me his cock. I’m sitting up now, leaning against the headboard, trying to find the motivation to get up and go to dinner.

Teddy waltzes in wearing jeans and the black tank he wore the day I moved in. He has the chain he wore that day around his neck too. I love it. It’s a full circle moment. A reminder of how much has changed, and how much has stayed the same.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he opens my closet and starts rifling through it.

“Looking for something of yours to wear. ”

He flicks through my jackets with businesslike hurry, ignoring the puffers and suits. He stops and turns to me when he finds what he wants.

“When freedom is outlawed, only outlaws are free,” he murmurs, pulling my old jacket off its coat hanger and smiling like pure, original sin.

He shrugs the jacket on and spins slowly to show me. It’s a little big on him, but the leather is old and buttery soft. It quickly molds itself to his form.

He turns the collar up slightly.

My heart skips a beat.

“What do you think? You like?”

“Oh, I like,” I say, nodding appreciatively as my mind drifts to a base place where seeing Teddy in my clothes is tantamount to seeing my mark stamped on his body. “I like it when you wear my clothes.”

He totters over and kisses me sweetly on the lips. “In that case, you should know I’m wearing your underwear too.”

I’m confused, not least because I didn’t see him take a pair. “But I don’t wear…”

“Exactly. ”

Oh fuck.

Teddy’s naked under his jeans. His cock is free. Unconfined. Blood flowing freely. Denim stroking him lightly.

It’s going to be a long night.

“Are you sure you want to go out?” I check, purely out of consideration for his well-being. “We could stay home and order in if you want.”

“Not a chance,” he says firmly. “We’re going out. We’re having a nice dinner, and I’m going to spend the entire time whispering in your ear and telling you exactly what I’m going to let you do to me when we get home.”

Oof.

I dress quickly and trail behind him as he heads to the front door. The bell rings when we’re a few feet away. We look at each other quizzically, and he mouths, “Who the fuck can it be?”

Teddy isn’t a massive fan of people in his space and goes to some lengths to ensure they don’t feel welcome to drop in, so this is very irregular. Neither of us moves, both silent and wholly committed to pretending we aren’t home.

“Maybe it’s Mae,” I whisper. “Maybe she needs something. ”

Relief washes over him. “Yeah, that’s probably it. She said something about baking chocolate chip cookies and bringing them over last time I saw her.”

He moves quickly to the door, swinging it open with a big, easy smile.

His smile freezes.

His eyes widen.

“Surprise,” says Nathan.