Page 151 of Pucking Sweet

But the Novy who keeps receipts wants a balanced ledger. You get me green apples? Boom, I get you bananas for your morning oatmeal. You fold my laundry? I vacuum the floor. In the first week, he was running me ragged with this tit for tat, until he finally grabbed me by the shoulders and said right in my face, “Will you just let me take care of you?”

Talk about an awkward moment. We held eye contact for a second too long, and then he was wandering off saying something about going for a run.

It’s official, I think I’m in like with Colton Morrow.

And don’t even get me started on Poppy.

I think she’s falling in love with me. God knows what I did to deserve it. I’m still the same asshole who pranks too often and jokes too much. At least twice a day, she says, “Do you takeanythingseriously?”

But at least twice a day she’s kissing me. She’s always touching me. She likes to hold hands. She likes when our fingers are laced, my thumb on top. I’ll stand in her kitchen, pouring her a glass of wine, and her hand will slip under my shirt to stroke her fingertips up my spine. Shehasto touch me. She has to soothe and caress.

What she’s not saying in words yet, she’s saying in action. She loves me.

And I’m fucking terrified.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how not to mess this up. I could never deserve her. I don’t deserve either of them. As friends, as lovers, it just doesn’t make sense. Lukas Novikov is the kid from the street who the other kids can’t bring home for dinner. He’s the guy on the team who sleeps on the assistant coach’s couch because no family would billet him.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

You harden yourself to the reality that everything is a transaction, and it makes it all easier. It numbs the pain. I put in my hours, I make the hits, I score the goals.

But Cole and Poppy don’t work that way. They won’t letmework that way.

And I’m scared.

I don’t know if I can change. I don’t know if Iwantto change.

Taking a deep breath, I knock on Poppy’s door. Cole wasn’t in the apartment, so I have to assume he’s over here. I wait for one minute. Two. Huffing, I knock on the door again, harder this time.

“I said, I’m coming, asshole,” Cole barks from within. He unlocks the door and jerks it open to reveal himself in a pair of basketball shorts, his hard dick barely concealed beneath the fabric.

“Am I interrupting something?” I say with a smirk.

“We’re getting you a fucking key,” he growls, pulling me in by the shirt.

I follow him down the hall into the kitchen just as Poppy comeswalking out of her bedroom wearing nothing but his T-shirt. It hangs off her like a dress, hitting her at mid-thigh. Fuck, she looks good in our clothes. We practically share a wardrobe, so I can just flip the switch in my head that changes “his” to “ours.”

Her hair is done up in a messy braid over one shoulder, and her cheeks are pink. Her lips look thoroughly kissed. She looks goddamn delectable. My sweet Popsicle, tart like a cherry, sugary like a peach.

“Whatcha guys doing in here?” I tease, slinging my bags of sushi up onto the counter.

“Nothing,” Poppy says as Cole says, “Fucking.” He stands by the stove with his arms crossed over his bare chest, glaring at me.

I grin. “Well, I scored a shit ton of discount sushi at the store.” I dig into the bags, pulling the containers out and setting them on the counter. “California rolls, shrimp tempura, spicy crab and avocado, an eel roll for Pops. There are some dumplings in here too we can pan fry up quick. And a seaweed salad.”

They glance at each other before looking to me.

I pretend I don’t see it, determined to make them break first. “Yeah, I figured we could get it all set up in front of the couch and watch one of your stupid nature documentaries,” I go on. “Maybe, if we’re feeling crazy, we can even walk down the beach a few blocks and get some ice cream—”

“Lukas,” Poppy whines, one hand on her doorframe.

My grin spreads as I glance between them. The tension in this room is about to boil over. “Or, you know, we can shove this all in the fridge, and fuck till we’re dead?”

“Thank you,” she cries, hurrying back into her room.

I laugh out loud as Cole steps in, grabbing half the sushi. Together, we throw it all in the fridge. Then I’m shoving him into the cabinets for good measure, racing him to the bedroom. I stop in the doorway, eyes wide, to see Poppy already naked in the middle of her bed, fumbling with the latch on a little leather handcuff.