Page 40 of The Pucking Proposal

At one point, our teeth clack together as we desperately try to satiate the need coursing through us, but we don’t pause or soften. Her fingers dance over my chest, her nails scoring my flesh through the thin cotton, and I lay a line of sucking kisses down the tendon of her neck.

“Dalton?” she pants.

I moan, not stopping to answer but rather sucking a little harder over her collarbone as I push the neck of the green shirt out of my way to get at more of her tender flesh.

“You know Skittles? Like the candy,” she asks, tilting her head the other way so I’ll nibble at that side of her neck. “If icks were Skittles, I think I just tasted the whole rainbow. Hockey players are the worst.”

“What?” I mutter, confused as hell. I lift my head, meeting her eyes, and see lights dancing in her baby blues. She’s still fucking with me.

Jesus, this woman is gonna be the death of me. But what a way to go.

I growl, grabbing her hips and pulling her into my lap so that she’s straddling me. Her feet lay over my knees and her knees squeeze at my hips, putting a scant couple of inches between her pussy and my cock. “That’s the best kiss of your fucking life and you know it.” She smirks, not disagreeing, but not agreeing either. “If I’m wrong, sit on my face.”

She’s trapped and she knows it.

“You’re wrong ... wait, I mean, right. I mean ... what?”

I can’t fight the cocky grin that steals across my lips. “For tonight, just let me kiss you again, Joy.”

Chapter 17

Joy

Moose: 2. Devildogs: 0.

Tonight’s game was completely different than last night’s. Both teams were fighting hard for the win, but Dalton was on fire, batting shots on goal away like they were coming in slow motion and he had time to sip a cup of tea before they got in range.

He’s going to be completely insufferable, bragging about how kissing me was what made the difference,I think with a smile.

We didn’t actually get around to the penis parade last night, which surprised me given Dalton’s superstitious streak. In fact, neither of us got our underwear off because that would’ve led to a lot more than a peekaboo and we both knew it, but he said the intimacy of a kiss would be extra good luck. I guess he was right.

In a way, I can see what he means because having Dalton right in front of me, touching him and letting him touch me, was way hotter than our video voyeur sessions. And it wasn’t a kiss. It was kisses, lots of them.

Which means the ante of our tradition has gone way up. And the walls around my heart need to be even stronger so I can protect myself. Casual, meaningless, fun itch-scratching ... nothing more.

The knock at my door isn’t entirely unexpected since the Moose are in town.

Still, I open the door with a frown plastered on my face to hide my smile. “What’re you doing here?”

Dalton grins and holds up a big brown paper bag. “I brought brunch. Pancakes for you, farmer’s omelet for me. And yeah, I got your baconextra crispy, otherwise known asburnedto those of us with tastebuds.”

I sniff loudly and sigh in bliss. Damn, he knows how to bribe me.

“Smells delicious, but doesn’t answer my question.” I tilt my head, challenging his verbal sidestep of what I asked.

He grits his teeth, but confesses, “Usually, I’d hang with Shep. But that’s hard to do right now. I’m not avoiding him exactly, because that’d bring up all sorts of questions I can’t answer, but I’m also not bro-ing out with him to talk about life and love over a beer.”

Shit. I hadn’t really thought about how much this would affect their friendship through the whole season. Selfishly, my focus has been keeping on Dalton’s and my activities a secret.

“Gotta eat quick. I have an appointment in thirty minutes.” I can’t tell him no after that plea for companionship. But I also mentally check a clock to see if I have time for this, even though I know I’m absolutely eating pancakes and bacon before I go.

“What’re we doing today?” Dalton asks in my kitchen as he pulls plastic boxes out of the bag.

I slam the drawer shut, not finding any forks, and instead open the dishwasher to grab two. I’m terrible at putting dishes away.

“Are those clean?” Dalton’s brow lifts dubiously as he scrutinizes the offered silverware.

“Of course they are.” He leans around me and points at the magnet on the front of the dishwasher, which is definitely showingdirty, butthat’s only because I didn’t slide it tocleanwhen I started it. “If not, it’ll build your immunity.” I lick my fork obscenely to prove the point.

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