Page 23 of Pucking Tangled

TWENTY-THREE

Mia

Sunlight peeked through Luca’s bedroom curtains as Mia slowly woke up. The sheets were tangled at her feet and she was still pressed skin to skin against Luca. His arm laid heavily across her waist, keeping her close.

Luca .

She smiled before she even fully opened her eyes.

Every muscle in her body ached. The soreness between her thighs was a delicious reminder of everything they’d done. Again. And again. And again.

Mia shifted carefully, trying not to wake him. But Luca stirred anyway, burying his face in her neck with a sleepy groan. His hand skimmed up her side, cupping her breast.

“Don’t move,” he mumbled, his voice gravely and heavy from sleep. “I’m comfortable.”

She let out a small giggle. “Me too.”

But she knew the rest of the house had to be awake by now and the thought alone had an uncomfortable wave of anxiety rolling under Mia’s skin. Last night wasn’t a secret. She knew that.

They all knew Luca’s intentions.

But now?

It happened.

It was reality and there was no going back.

Not that she wanted to.

Mia kissed Luca on the nose and tried easing out from under the covers. He groaned again and reached out, fighting to pull her back in. She caught his hand instead and laced their fingers together for a beat before she let go.

“I need coffee. And to pee. Not in that order,” she snickered.

“Mmmm. Coffee,” he hummed, his eyes still closed.

“How about I bring you a cup?”

He gave her a sleepy smile. “You’re perfect.”

She shook her head and searched around the room for one of his hoodies and a pair of gym shorts to borrow before she shuffled toward the bedroom door.

The second the door opened, their perfect little bubble felt like it had popped.

When she stepped into the hallway she heard the click of dishes from the kitchen. Muffled voices. The smell of coffee and bacon floated up the stairs making her stomach grumble.

It had been at least twelve hours since she ate dinner, and she’d burned a lot of calories.

Mia made her way downstairs and tried to hold her head high, hoping to disguise the nervousness flooding her body as she walked into the kitchen.

Three sets of eyes landed on her the moment she crossed the threshold .

Waylon, who was standing over the stove cooking breakfast, lifted a brow.

Owen was pouring a cup of coffee and glanced at her. His cheeks flushed then he quickly looked away.

But Casey stared at her like she’d just broken his heart.

What the hell?

She forced a smile and moved toward the coffee pot. “Morning.”

“Looks like someone had a good night,” Waylon whistled.

“Shut up,” Owen muttered.

She kept her eyes on the mug she filled, but the weight of their stares burned through her.

It felt like the temperature had been turned up to a hundred and ten.

Mia pulled another mug out of the cabinet and poured Luca a cup.

“We cleaned up everything from last night,” Casey snapped. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” The sound of Luca’s voice startled her.

He must have smelled food and had the same reaction she did.

Seemingly not bothered by the other men’s curious glances or the possessiveness rolling off of Casey in waves, Luca stepped up behind her and reached around her for his coffee. “Thanks for making this for me,” he kissed her cheek.

Bold move, she thought to herself.

“Figured you two love birds might be hungry after keeping us up all night,” Waylon snickered. “Grab a plate and eat up.” He slid a large plate of pancakes across the island. “I’m finishing up the eggs now.”

Casey

Casey was on high alert ever since they left the house last night.

He knew what was going down…what Luca had planned.

What was worse was the fact that he essentially gave his blessing for the whole thing to happen.

And now, nothing could calm his envy.

Not even a date with Owen or a wild night of sex with the man.

Thankfully, Owen understood at least a fraction of what Casey was feeling and accepted it.

It was early—too early—and Casey hadn’t even finished his coffee yet when the two love birds joined them in the kitchen.

It was bad enough that they were all still trying to adapt to postseason life and being knocked out of the playoffs. Casey felt like he was hanging on by a thread.

Then Mia had walked into the kitchen with Luca’s hoodie on. Her hair was a tangled mess and her face was glowing in that, “I’ve just been fucked six ways to Sunday” kind of way.

Luca and Mia hadn’t just slept together. He could tell it had been something more, and now she was wearing his teammate’s clothes.

For years, Mia only wore his hoodie.

God, he should’ve been happy for Luca. He’d rooted for the guy. Hell, he’d agreed to give Luca space. One night. One chance.

But watching Mia now, her feet bare, coffee mug in hand, wearing another guy’s shirt and looking like she belonged to him?

Casey felt like he’d been replaced in one night.

She didn’t look at him. Not directly. But she must’ve felt it—the way he was staring. The way his heart was pounding.

He didn’t say a word. He just sat there at the table, his jaw clenched and his fists curled around his coffee mug like it might keep him from saying something he couldn’t take back.

Waylon raised a brow.

Owen blushed but quickly looked away from her.

They all knew.

And, Casey could tell, none of them liked it.

Starting now, their pact was over. The gloves were off.

And Casey wasn’t sure he could pretend anymore.

Not when she looked like that .

Not when the only thing he wanted to do was walk across the room, pin her against the wall, and show her that he wanted to be a hell of lot more than just her best friend.

He wanted his turn.

Waylon

The sexual tension crackling the air had Waylon licking his lips .

Not the food.

Not his second cup of coffee.

Her.

Mia sat across from him, dressed in Luca’s hoodie—but with her legs curled up beneath her like she belonged to someone. Like she wasn’t just their roommate anymore.

Waylon knew better.

She’d belonged to Luca last night. Sure.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

That was just the beginning.

They all agreed to give him time.

Let the Rookie have his moment.

And they did.

Luca had the whole fucking night to himself with her.

Everything changed now, and from the flush on her cheeks and the way her eyes kept darting around the table, watching them before looking away quickly, Mia knew it, too.

“Damn, this is good,” Luca muttered around a forkful of French toast. “Who knew you could cook, Waylon?”

“Bacon’s burnt,” Casey said flatly, stabbing a piece anyway. The man was full of shit, but Waylon didn’t respond.

He knew that Casey was on edge.

And Waylon was more focused on Mia anyway.

Just to push his luck and set the tone for how things were going to work from here on out, he shifted slightly closer, slid a clean fork across the table toward her.

“You haven’t touched anything,” he whispered.

Mia’s eyes snapped to his. Wide. Surprised. Wary.

Waylon speared a bite of French toast, drug it through syrup, and lifted it to her mouth. Slowly. “Take a bite, Mia. ”

Mia hesitated then parted her lips and let him feed her.

Jesus.

His cock was already hard but now he was painfully so.

Her tongue flicked against the edge of the fork as she pulled it into her mouth, and Waylon swore he felt it in his spine.

He didn’t look away.

Neither did Casey.

Or Luca.

That was the fun of it—the tension crackling beneath every breath.

Mia chewed slowly, swallowed, her eyes locked on Waylon’s like she was trying to figure out what the hell he thought he was doing.

He leaned in a little, voice low and deliberate, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. “I bet you taste better.”

Boom.

Luca dropped his fork. It clattered loud against the plate. “Fuck, Waylon. Could you even let her catch her breath?”

Owen muttered, “Christ.”

Casey stood abruptly, muttering something about needing air, and left the room like the table had physically scorched him.

Mia still hadn’t moved. Instead, from the look on her face, he got the impression she wasn’t sure if she should slap him or straddle him.

He sat back, grabbed a piece of bacon, and took a bite like he hadn’t just declared war in the middle of breakfast.

Let them all stew in it.

Because now?

It was on .

And if they thought for two seconds that Waylon was going to sit back and wait it out any longer? They were all wrong.