Page 62 of Broken As Puck

Chapter Twenty-One

CHELSEY

Matt’s lips were so soft against mine, yet I felt like my heart was about to explode. It pounded madly against my ribcage, aching and desperate for more, not nearly as afraid as it should be.

But logically, in my mind, I was scared. My heart might still want Matt with a fury I never would’ve expected, but my brain knew better.

That way lay heartbreak.

And what on earth were we doing, kissing where anyone could see us?

Yes, most of his teammates had left and only the cleaning staff remained, but all it would take was for one person to notice us and my career could go up in flames.

I pulled away, grabbed his hand, and dragged him into Lewis’s examination room. He snatched his duffel bag and brought it with us. Lewis had already left, so the room was empty. I shut the door behind us, so we’d be able to talk without anyone overhearing, and then dropped his hand.

“Should I not have done that?” Matt asked, his eyebrows beetled together, forehead furrowed with concern. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I growled. “Ugh, it isn’t fair that you’re so sweet in that gruff way of yours and that you aren’t acting like a jerk when you were right.” I gave his chest a little shove, not hard enough to move him, but he backed up anyway. “Why can’t you be a jerk? That would make things so much easier.”

He stared at me, his head slightly cocked, looking utterly confused. “I’m sorry. I can be a jerk if you’d like, but you’re already angry with me, and I feel like that would make it worse.” He took another step back, creating more space between us. I should have liked that, but for some reason, it irritated me. “And what was I right about?”

“Waiting to see what happened rather than being aggressively proactive about the Delacrue situation.” I huffed, reluctant to continue, but it needed to be said. “If I’d insisted on putting out that press release, there’s a chance the commissioner might have reacted poorly, and it would have been for nothing since Tia—bless her—didn’t print a word about the argument.”

Why was he so far away when I wanted to be in his arms?

“So…it all worked out for the best?” His blue eyes glittered with desire and something else—relief, maybe? Between that and the ragged heave of his broad chest, I had no chance of resisting him. “Isn’t that good? I, uh, have to admit, I’m not too sure what you want, so you’ll have to tell me.”

With a sigh, I pulled him close and kissed him. His lips were warm against mine and as I inhaled, the familiar scent of liniment filled my nose. A sense of nostalgia wrapped around me like a hug. He always used to smell of liniment after his games. Sometimes, I’d even been the one to rub it into the places he couldn’t reach. I’d liked helping him in such an intimate way.

He tore his mouth from mine, panting heavily. “I’m getting mixed messages.”

I groaned and buried my face against his chest as a lump lodged in the back of my throat. I felt guilty for confusing him, but I couldn’t seem to help it. I was sending mixed messages because I had mixed emotions.

I’d always been attracted to him, and the sides of himself he’d shown me lately—helpful, reliable, thoughtful—only deepened that attraction, but I’d had years to build walls between us, and I knew every possible reason why kissing him was a bad idea. Those barriers wouldn’t just disappear.

“I feel like communication is something we both need to work on,” I admitted, drawing back enough to look him in the eyes. “So many of our issues stemmed from not properly explaining our perspectives and our actions. So here goes: I’m attracted to you. I always have been. But I’m scared to want you. I’m worried about where it might lead and what might happen if my heart gets involved.”

His face fell. “You don’t want to want me because you don’t trust me.” He sounded desolate and I hated that, but also? I couldn’t deny it. “I get that. If you want me to, I’ll back off. I’d hate myself if I pushed you into anything you aren’t ready for.”

My chest tightened. How the hell was I supposed to resist him when he looked so damn sincere? His eyes lit up whenever he saw me as if I were the best thing he’d ever seen, and he’d been silently pleading for my attention since I’d started this job, with the gifts and offers of help and support every time I needed it.

It was difficult to convince myself that he was a jerk when he kept being so sweet.

“Fuck it.”

I touched my lips to his, swallowing his gasp and plastering myself to his front. His muscles were just as firm as I remembered, which was hardly surprising, considering all I’d seen of him lately. The man had picked me up, for crying out loud.

His palms landed on my hips, scalding me through the fabric of my tank top. I’d been cold earlier but not anymore. He guided me backward until I hit the wall and sandwiched me between that and his hard body.

His lips never left mine. He kissed me as if he’d been starving for it, all tongues and hands and shared breath, making small, hungry sounds in the back of his throat. My mind spun, and even if I’d wanted to be sensible, it was impossible to do so while being consumed by Matt Matthews.

But then, suddenly, he pulled back and dropped to his knees. I stared down at him, my eyes wide as he sat back on his haunches and gulped for air. His lips, red and slightly puffy, parted on a breath, and he reached for the front of my jeans.

“Can I?” he panted, his shoulders rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. “Please? I’ve missed the taste of you so much.”

Um, what?

I blinked, then flicked my cheek to rouse myself from whatever this stupor was. Was Matt actually kneeling at my feet, begging to put his mouth on me?