Page 17 of Dirty Pucker

Her eyes widen the slightest bit, like she catches my drift instantly.

She sinks her teeth into her luscious bottom lip. We stay like that for a long moment, me holding her in my arms, our faces just inches apart…

She runs her tongue along the seam of her lips. My mouth waters. My lips and tongue ache with the urge to capture her mouth in mine, to taste her, to tease my tongue against hers, to kiss her until she’s panting and moaning for me to fuck her right here on my kitchen counter…

“So Dirty Del isn’t such a gentleman then?” she says, her voice soft.

“Nope.”

Those blue eyes turn fiery as she looks at me. Heat scatters across my skin.

The rational part of my brain catches up a second later. I shouldn’t be doing this, holding her in my arms, about to kiss her.

I should put Ingrid down right now and walk away. She’s the team social media girl—and my teammate’s cousin. She’s off-limits.

My body doesn’t seem to give a shit about any of that right now though.

I tilt my head up so our mouths are just barely an inch apart. Her gaze falls to my lips. My heart skids in my chest.

And then the doorbell rings.

I jolt at the sudden blast of noise and almost drop Ingrid. She yelps. I walk us out of the kitchen, set her down, and run to the door. It’s a delivery guy with a case of the organic pressed juices I ordered the other day. I ignore him when he glances down at the towel-covered part of me and frowns. I sign for the package, tell him thanks, grab the box, and set it inside next to the door.

When I turn around, Ingrid is standing a few feet away. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s sporting a shy smile.

“Sorry again about the broken glass,” she says.

“It’s okay.”

She stands there, quiet for a second, like she’s working up the nerve to say more. “We almost kissed.”

I almost chuckle at how bluntly she’s put it. “Yeah. We did.”

“But it’s probably good that we didn’t.” Her voice hitches at the end of her sentence, like she’s uncertain about what she’s said.

“It would have been hot though,” I deadpan.

She rolls her eyes and smiles at me.

“It’s probably a bad idea for us to kiss,” she says. “I’m the social media manager for the team you play for. And my cousin hates you.”

Disappointment flashes through me at the reality check she just dropped. She’s right. I really shouldn’t even be teasing her. Or flirting with her. As much as I like Ingrid, as much as I’m attracted to her, kissing her would fall right into the category of “shit I should never do.”

I take a second to remind myself why I’m here. To play for Denver long-term. Not to fool around with the Bashers’ social media manager before I even play my first game for the team.

The reality of my situation washes over me once more. It’s been fun flirting with Ingrid, but I can’t let this go any further than that. Ever.

Messing around with Ingrid would jeopardize my standing with the team and Coach Porter. I’m here to play hockey and look out for my mom and sister. That’s it.

I clear my throat and take a step back, widening the space between us. “You’re right. The two of us kissing wouldn’t have been a good idea. Not to mention pretty unprofessional.”

“It’s okay. I got caught up in the moment too.” Her full cheeks flush. She sinks her teeth into that plump bottom lip and I have to divert my gaze from her to the wall because fuck, it’s torture looking at her mouth knowing I’ll never be able to kiss it.

“But we can be friends, right?” Smiling, she rests her hands on her hips and shrugs a shoulder.

“Absolutely,” I say.

As badly as I wanted to kiss her, just hearing Ingrid say she wants to be my friend sends warmth through me. After years of being the most hated player in the league, I’ve made more enemies than friends. It’s my own fault. I leaned into that persona hard.

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