Page 31 of Pucking Amazing

“I, um, I should really finish my dinner before they clear the plates...” I stammer.

His eyes practically burn into my back as I turn and rush back to my table.

Collapsing into my seat beside Tyler, I watch as Tyler quirks an eyebrow but says nothing. Doesn’t need to. The heat staining my cheeks is all the confirmation required: he saw everything.

I catch the jealousy that flashes across his face and feel terrible and then even more terrible for wondering whether he’s jealous of DJ or of me.

The uncomfortable moment stretched between us until Tyler clears his throat, turning towards me with a softness in his eyes that contradicts the stoic mask of his face.

“You alright?” he murmurs, voice barely audible above the laughter and clinking of glasses around us.

I nod, trying to muster a less shaky smile. “Yeah, just... a lot of people here tonight.” It’s a feeble excuse, and we both know it.

Luckily, the sound of the live band starting up saves me from my misery—staffers clear our table and waiters start circulating the room with delicate desserts and pots of coffee.

Tyler stands and glances my way. For a moment I wonder if he’s going to ask me to dance but instead, he excuses himself to use the restroom.

I sigh, not knowing if I’m more disappointed or relieved. At least I can give my aching feet a rest.

I’m sipping an after-dinner cappuccino, relaxing on a plush velvet couch at the edge of the ballroom and deep in conversation with Chloe about the hockey team’s recent troubles, when there’s a tap on my shoulder.

Turning, I find DJ grinning down at me, his hand outstretched in invitation. The colorful tattoos snaking up his muscular forearm seem to dance in the pulsing lights.

The formal dinner and keynote speeches have given way to dancing, the ballroom floor filling with swaying couples, groups of friends, and tipsy laughter. Many of the older attendees started to head home, and the party became livelier for the younger crowd.

“May I have this dance, gorgeous?” DJ’s deep brown eyes sparkle mischievously.

I hesitate for a moment, knowing I’m just asking for trouble if I take his hand.

DJ is charming and persistent, and there’s no denying our sexual connection. But I’m still the team counselor, and this is a work event.

He looks unfairly handsome in his crisp tuxedo, a few strands of dark hair artfully escaping to frame his chiseled face. The champagne bubbles pleasantly in my veins, making my reasons for ignoring him seem silly.

What’s the harm in one dance, when half the team is out there on the dance floor with donors and staff?

Throwing caution to the wind, I accept DJ’s hand and let him lead me onto the dance floor. Shimmering strands of lights crisscross the high ceiling, casting an intimate glow. The bass thumps as he pulls me close, one strong arm circling my waist.

We start to move in sync to the sensual beat.

“Well this is a nice surprise,” DJ murmurs near my ear. “I was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I tease, trying to play it cool despite the way my heart races at his proximity. “I’m just here for the dancing.”

“Mmm, is that so?” His lips curve. “We’ll see about that.”

DJ spins me out dramatically, the skirt of my dress flaring, before tugging me back flush against his firm chest.

I can’t help but laugh. “Not bad, hotshot. You’ve got some moves.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, babe.” He waggles his eyebrows comically.

We continue to banter playfully as we twirl and sway to the music, my initial nervousness fading.

“I have to say, Syd, you’re equally beautiful in evening wear and office attire…although I prefer you in a slightly shorter skirt…” he says, voice low and intimate as his fingers skim my lower back.

A pleasant shiver runs through me at his insinuation, and it’s like I can feel his fingers inside me again. I struggle to catch my breath and push the memory away.

“Does this routine usually work for you?” I ask tartly.

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