Page 78 of Broken As Puck

He nuzzled me and peppered my face with kisses. “Anything else?”

I melted into his arms like chocolate left in the sun too long. “Me?”

“I like the sound of that.”

His kiss was claiming and I sighed into his mouth as he held me close and ravished me with his lips and tongue, stealing both my breath and my ability to think. I pressed closer to him, wishing he weren’t wearing a shirt. I grabbed at the hem of his shirt and started to lift it, but he pulled back suddenly, leaving me cold and bereft.

He gazed at me, his cheeks flushed, and the blue of his eyes only a thin band around his pupils. “Wait.”

“Why?” I complained, wanting to be close to him again. I’d never felt more desired and protected than I did in his arms.

“We need to talk.”

I squeaked, and my hand flew to my mouth. Shit. Nothing good ever followed those words. “About what?”

With a grimace, he stalked away from me, getting as far as the door before turning and pacing forward again.

“It’s been a while since we started doing this”—he motioned back and forward between us—“and I hope you’ve realized in that time that I’m in this for good.”

I nodded because he had shown every indication of being committed to making our relationship work, but I felt like I was walking into a trap. I was worried about where this conversation was going.

He stood in front of me and met my eyes. “Can we make it official?”

My heart rate picked up. “You mean tell people about us?”

“Yeah.” The sides of his mouth quirked up, and his expression was so hopeful it almost hurt. “I’d like to be able to be open about our relationship. I want to introduce you to Mom and Dad as my girlfriend again and work on winning your parents over. I’m sure I’ve got some ground to make up there.”

I shook my head. “I never told them what happened.”

I’d been too embarrassed. Layla was the only one I’d been honest with.

“But they know we broke up and that you were hurt.” He moved closer and I subconsciously backed up, needing the space to think clearly. If I let him put his arms around me, I’d give him whatever he wanted because my mind would be clouded by feel-good hormones.

As it was, I already didn’t know what to say. While I hadn’t expected to have this conversation right now, I couldn’t say I hadn’t known that he’d push the matter at some point. Considering our conversation two months ago, I was a bit surprised it had taken this long.

Despite that, I didn’t have an answer prepared.

“My job…” I began weakly.

“We can do whatever paperwork we need to make it good with the team because I don’t want to cause you any problems.” His eyes burned into me. “I don’t want to make things hard for you, Chels. I just want to be with you and be able to kiss you at games and hold your hand in public.”

I dithered. It should be an easy answer, right? It should be a yes. Because why bother dating if we weren’t eventually going to turn it into something real?

But there was still a scared little voice in the back of my mind that whispered for me to be cautious. To tread carefully. Because I’d worked so hard to get to where I was, and sure, I might want to trust Matt now, but I’d trusted him once before and been hurt.

Already, his face was beginning to fall, as if my hesitation was answer enough.

“I want to be with you,” I blurted, unable to stand how sad he looked. “I’m more confident in us now than I was when we started, but I’m scared about how this might affect my job and my future career prospects. We’re close to the end of the season. Can’t we just wait until it’s over and my contract has ended before we say anything?”

His shoulders dropped and he sighed heavily. He scraped his hands down his face, then nodded and gave a weary smile. “Of course. I’d never ask for more than you’re comfortable with.”

My gut twisted. I hated that his smile didn’t reach his eyes and that, as I drew him into an embrace and kissed him, there was a new sense of distance between us. As if he were holding back to protect himself. I couldn’t blame him for it since I was dragging my feet, but it made me worry. Communicating more clearly was supposed to improve our relationship, but it didn’t feel like that was what was happening.

Had I just messed everything up?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

CHELSEY