Page 93 of Puck Prince

“Why?”

“Because I never reached out to Summer when I was a teenager. I knew she was out there. I knew she probably didn’t have the best life. But I never bothered to try to have a relationship with her until we were older. By that time, she’d already started dating dickheads.”

“That’s not your fault, Owen.”

He looks down at where our hips brush together. “Then whose is it?”

“I’m going to tell you a secret,” I announce.

“A secret?” His lips scrunch to the side in a smirk. “Like, a real one, or an ‘I’m not wearing any underwear’ kind of secret?”

I pretend to think about it. “Well, the second one isn’t much of a secret. Do you see any panty lines?”

Laughing, he spins me out for a twirl while obviously ogling my ass. When I come pirouetting back into his arms, his eyes are gleaming. “I like your secrets.”

My face falls, though. “That secret is more fun than what I was actually gonna say.”

He softens again as he tucks me back into his embrace. We sink back into the rhythm of the slow dance. “The floor is yours.”

I launch into it before I lose my nerve. “I didn’t know what it felt like to be loved until I moved in with my Uncle Randy. My mom was a habitual cheater who cared more about who she was dating than me. My ‘dad’ wasn’t even my biological dad, and he dipped when he found out. I felt like I didn’t even have a dad until my uncle. It was the first time I had a father figure who cared. It’s why I changed my last name. I took my mom’s maiden name, not because it was hers, but because it was my uncle’s. People think I did it to get ahead in the industry or something, but really…”

“It’s who you feel like you are,” Owen finishes for me. “It’s where you belong.”

“Yeah,” I say in a whisper. “That’s exactly what it’s like.”

We sway to the music, growing closer and closer with every step. I almost rest my head on his shoulder, until he asks, “Now, can I tellyoua secret?”

I pull back.

“I knew this color would look incredible on you.”

His voice is low. Deep.

His palm is warm on my back, guiding me effortlessly across the floor. It shouldn’t shock me that a hockey player can be this light on his feet. He knows what he’s doing. And the way his mouth pulls into a teasing fraction of a smirk, I think he knows what he’s doing to me, too. I’m hot all over.

His right hand comes up to my shoulder, his fingertips brushing across my collarbone. “Everything about you looks incredible tonight, actually.”

I don’t have words for that.

He’s talking too softly for anyone else to hear, so is this for our audience? Is he fooling me? Fooling himself?

Or the scariest option of all: what if he’s not pretending?

I mentally anchor my heart in my chest, so it doesn’t float away into the clouds.

Owen’s thumb ghosts over my bottom lip. “I like your lip gloss.”

“It’s called Kissable Pink.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Kissable?”

He leans down. I stretch to meet him. Our lips are close, so close, so unbelievably?—

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but…” Lance appears behind Owen, putting his hand on his shoulder. We both jump apart. “Coach needs you.”

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