Page 36 of Power Pucking Play

"Gee, thanks," I drawl, but my pulse pounds. "You're not so terrible yourself. When you're not being a complete jackass on the ice."

"Only on the ice?" he murmurs. When did he get so close?

I should step back. I should say goodnight, go into my room, and forget this whole surreal evening ever happened.

Instead, I find myself leaning in. My heart beats so hard I can feel it in my throat. And then his lips are on mine, and the world explodes.

It's like every argument we've ever had, every time I've wanted to strangle him, every daydream I've ever had about what it would be like if he wasn't such a jerk—all of it comes together in this one electrifying moment.

His kiss is passionate and hungry, and I'm not sure who deepens it first. But suddenly, my arms are around his neck and his hands are on my waist, pulling me closer as our mouths move against each other in perfect sync.

It's not a gentle kiss. It's not even a romantic one. It's fierce and desperate and hungry, like two people who have been holding back for too long finally giving in to their desires.

Nothing like our tipsy, party-fueled fumbling at the All-Star party. This is real. This is raw.

And it's everything I've ever wanted.

As if reading my mind, Gio pulls back slightly and looks into my eyes, his own a deep green I could get lost in.

"I've wanted to do that for the past forty-eight hours," he says huskily.

"I thought you hated me," I manage to say, trying to catch my breath.

"I never hated you," he replies, running his fingers through my hair. "You just drove me crazy."

"Well, apparently crazy and hate are interchangeable for you," I tease, smiling up at him.

He grins back, his eyes sparkling. "Only when it comes to you."

The kiss continues. Right there in the amber-lit hotel hallway, as I lose all sense of professionalism in the intensity of Gio's gaze and the warmth of his body.

Especially when he moves to whisper in my ear.

"Let’s take this inside your room," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin.

A part of me stirs with excitement at the thought, but another part pulls back, hesitant. My mind races with all the reasons we shouldn’t, yet my lips move instinctively against his.

Deepening the kiss. Demanding more.

“Why should we move inside?” I finally manage to ask, trying to ground myself in this moment of chaos.

"Well, I wouldn't want to startle the room service staff. They've been through enough tonight, I'm sure."

"Right, because I'm sure this hallway has a strict 'no public displays of affection' policy," I reply drily, trying to match his humor as his fingers begin a slow descent.

"Exactly." He chuckles, leaning in closer. “I’m all about following the rules.”

"Good to know you're a stickler for decorum."

A sudden tremor runs through me as his fingers drift to the button of my jeans, undoing it with practiced ease.

“Only when it suits me,” he quips, slowly sliding the zipper down with a deliberate slowness that makes the apex of my thighs grow warm. Wet. And throbbing.

Especially when Gio cups my mound through the fabric of my underwear, and I gasp, caught between the urgency of desire and the lingering doubt that pulls at me.

“I bet the hotel guests are grateful for your sense of propriety,” I manage to say, breathless.

“Always here for public service,” he replies, his fingers teasing and testing my resolve. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating, andin that instant, I’m torn between the thrill of surrendering and the clarity of my racing thoughts.

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