Page 49 of Rinkmates

We spendthe next half hour attempting to pose like a head-over-heels couple for a selfie while the plumber works his magic in the bathroom. To say the least, it’s not going well. Either Riley is the worst photographer there is or neither of us can pretend we’re a couple. As if the idea of us having romantic feelings for each other is some kind of cosmic impossibility.

“Come on, just act like you like me,” he says when another pic looks crap. “It looks forced.”

“Because it is?” I roll my eyes. “You’re not making it easy, Mr. Hockey Star. You’re all stiff when you touch me.”

“Well, if you would lean in a little, it wouldn’t be so hard.”

I look up at him, ready to fire back a retort but he’s faster.

“Okay, this won’t lead us anywhere. How about we try a kiss on the cheek?”

Huh. That might be a good idea. Perhaps if we avoid direct eye contact with the camera, it will turn out better. “That’s actually a great idea.”

He grins, and my traitorous heart skips another beat. “See? I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Okay, hotshot, let’s try it your way.”

Riley adjusts his grip, his fingers brushing against the small of my back. “Ready?”

Nope, but I nod anyway, trying to steady my breath. It’s just a peck. Relax, girl.

He pulls me closer, and I lean into him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. His scent—clean soap with a hint of something uniquely Riley—makes my hair stand on end.

“Perfect, just like that,” he murmurs, snapping away. “Attack that cheek, baby.”

I let out a guttural growl and sink my teeth into his cheek instead. He chuckles, and I can’t help but giggle too. And then his hand moves, sliding down my back, dangerously close to my butt. His touch sends a jolt through me, igniting a fire I didn’t know existed, and somehow—from one second to the other—it’s not a tease anymore.

I falter and reach my hand out only to accidentally grab onto his muscular thigh, my fingers way too close to his…dick.

I freeze, mortified. His face is only inches away from mine.

He raises an eyebrow, trying to suppress a grin. “Wrong target there or can I get excited?”

I jerk my hand back like I’ve been burned. “Sorry! I was aiming for stability, not your…um…”

There’s amusement dancing in his eyes. “Sure. Next time, just aim a little higher or lower, depending on your intentions.”

“I swear, I didn’t mean to grab you like that. I would never—”

“Let’s blame it on gravity. But you know,” he murmurs, his voice husky, “I think we’re getting pretty good at this.” His hand still burns on my hip.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should practice more,” my voice drops to a whisper, too, barely recognizing the flirty tone in my own voice.

His gaze flicks down to my lips. “Maybe we should.”

Time seems to stand still as we lock eyes, and it’s bizarre because I know it’s not normal to stare like this, yet I can’t seem to look away.

“This one would be a great pic,” he says, his whiskey eyes gleaming in this light.

I lick my lips and notice his grip getting lower even. “Then take it.”

His nose brushes mine softly, tentative and sweet.

My heart skips a beat, and then another, and he takes the picture.

“Maybe we…” he starts. “Maybe we should try an actual kiss, just in case we need to—”

“Kiss?” My heart races up to my temple, and I feel so dizzy. “But the contract. We said—”

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