Page 90 of Pucking Sweet

She turns away from him and looks to Sully and Karlsson. “You’re up first, gentlemen.”

“So dumb,” Sully mutters, grabbing a bottle of water. He and Karlsson stand on their marks.

“Okay, and…we’re rolling,” Wednesday calls, standing behind the phone tripod.

“Hey, y’all,” Sully says to the camera with a wave. “Uhh, so we’re the Rays. I’m Team Captain Josh O’Sullivan, and this here is my fellow lineman Henrik Karlsson.” Always a man of few words, Hen just gives a nod to the camera. “And uhh, yeah, this is the tortilla slap challenge.”

I shake my head, grinning as I watch them take big swigs of water. They hold it in their cheeks like a pair of chipmunks. Then an intern hands them each a tortilla. Sully gives Hen the nod, and Hen slaps him as hard as he can with the limp tortilla.

My eyes go wide as the tortilla makes the loudest cartoonslapnoise I’ve ever heard. I join everyone behind the camera, roaring with laughter as Sully slaps Hen and they both spray water everywhere, choking as they laugh too.

“Oh my god. I wanna play,” says Paulie, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Woody, come slap me with a tortilla.”

Woody and Paulie go next, introducing themselves to the camera before they take their swigs of water and start slapping. This is so fucking stupid. I’m crying, I’m laughing so hard. Holding my sides, I wheeze, tears in my eyes as Woody sprays Paulie in the face.

“Hey, what did I miss?”

I turn to see Cole standing at my shoulder, and my smile falls. I pull him back a few steps away from the camera. “What the hell? You weren’t answering my calls. What happened with Poppy?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, we sorta got trapped in an elevator.”

My eyes go wide. “What?”

“Cool out. She’s fine. You don’t need to worry about it. Seriously, what are they doing?” He’s distracted, watching as Sully and Hen join Woody and Paulie. Now they’re doing a four-way slap fight with the tortillas, spraying water everywhere as the others howl with laughter.

“Oh man, water just went up my nose,” Paulie says on a snort.

“It’s the tortilla slap challenge,” I say. “Wait, what do you mean I don’t need to worry about it? Is she okay? What did the sister want?”

His smile falls as he places a hand on my shoulder. “Look, Novikov, whatever did or didn’t happen between you and Poppy is finished. Find another shiny object.”

Did this asshole just full-last-name me? I shrug his hand off my shoulder. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Before he can respond, I catch a whiff of his cologne…only he doesn’tjustsmell like his cologne. He smells like rosemary and mint and a warm summer’s day. And I’ve had enough sex to know that this fucking asshole is standing right next to me smelling like a freshly fucked pussy. My hackles rise. I bet if I lifted his fingers to my mouth, I could still taste Poppy on him.

“Trapped in an elevator?” I say with a raised brow. “That’s the story?”

“Yeah, and it’s a long story,” he mutters, daring to move away.

I grab his arm, stepping close to speak in his ear. “Yeah, a story that ends with you three-fingers-deep inside our PR director’s cunt—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he growls.

“Well, that’s why you came down here, right? To tell me you fucked her? Because you could’ve just left. Practice is long over, and you’ve got no PT. But no, you wanted to come rub it in my face first, you fucking caveman.”

“I didn’t come to crow over you, I came towarnyou,” he counters.

“Warn me?”

He holds my gaze, his expression dark and fucking menacing. Usually, he reserves this attitude for the ice and the opposition. “I’m only saying it once: You had your taste. Now, you’re done. Poppy is off-limits.”

I huff a hollow laugh. “Are you calling dibs on our PR director?”

“Yeah, I am,” he replies with a solemn nod.

I stuff my hands in my pockets, my frustration rising. “Well,shouldn’t that be her decision? I don’t think she’d take too kindly to learn how you kicked me out of her bed.”

“I’m sure you already kicked yourself out of it with your usual self-sabotaging bullshit.”