Page 53 of The Pucking Player

I storm over to the table, my eyes locked on the blondeinterloper. Liam spots me coming, his eyes widening. I see relief flash across his face.

“Excuse me,” I say, my voice sharp enough to cut glass, “but it seems you’re in my seat.”

The blonde turns, her perfect eyebrows arching in surprise. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

I plant my hands on my hips, channeling every ounce of Novak stubbornness I possess. “I’m the woman whose boyfriend you’re currently using as a chair. So, unless you want to find out exactly how much damage I can do with my bare hands, I suggest you find somewhere else to park it.”

For a moment, the world seems to hold its breath. Then the blonde slides off Liam’s lap, muttering something under her breath. I don’t catch the words, but the tone tells me everything I need to know.

As she slinks away, I turn to Liam, my heart pounding in my ears. His eyes are dark, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Well, well,” he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. “Someone’s feeling possessive.”

My cheeks heat up, but I lift my chin defiantly. “Well, someone had to save you from the puck bunny invasion.”

Liam’s grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eye. “My girlfriend,” he murmurs. Then, loud enough for the table to hear, he pats his lap. “But now it seems your seat is empty, angel. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?”

My breath catches in my throat. Is he serious? But the challenge in his eyes is unmistakable.

With a bravado I don’t entirely feel, I lower myself onto his lap. The moment I make contact, it’s like every nerve ending in my body goes into overdrive.

Liam’s solid warmth envelops me, his muscular thighs firm beneath me, his length stretching out and turning tostone. One of his arms snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. Liquid pools between my legs, and I shift slightly. I can feel the steady thump of his heart against my back, slightly faster than normal. Or is that my own pulse roaring in my ears?

His breath tickles my ear as he whispers, “Looks like you need some help with whatever’sgoing on there between your thighs.”

Goosebumps erupts over my body, my breath quickening even more, and I bite back a moan. The heat radiating from his body seeps through my clothes and sets my skin on fire. The friction of his hard cock on my core sends sparks shooting through me, and I’m acutely aware of every point where our bodies touch.

I try to formulate a witty response, but my brain seems to have short-circuited. All I can manage is a breathy, “Uh-huh.”

Liam’s chest rumbles with a low chuckle, the vibrations spreading through my veins. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my hip, then his hand snakes between my legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“Just hold on for a while longer, angel. You’re coming home with me tonight.”

20

BREATHING LESSONS

SOPHIE

The Defenders’ table is a whirlwind of testosterone. Glasses clink, laughter booms, and the guys are reliving every moment of their victory. Nate’s dramatically reenacting his game-saving stop, complete with sound effects. Finn’s regaling everyone with a play-by-play of his assist on the winning goal.

But I might as well be underwater.

My entire world has narrowed down to the points where Liam’s body meets mine. His chest is a solid wall of heat against my back, rising and falling with each breath. I can feel the rumble of his laughter vibrating through me and sending waves of tingles down my spine.

One of Liam’s hands is resting innocently on my hip, but there’s nothing innocent about the way his thumb is tracing slow, maddening circles under the hem of my shirt. Each brush of skin-on-skin sends jolts of electricity through my body.

“I like you wearing my jersey,” he grumbles in my ear, his hot breath scalding me. “Everyone knows you’re mine now.”

His other hand rests on my thigh possessively, fingers splayed wide. To anyone else, it might look casual, but I know better. He’s slowly, torturously, inching his way up, leaving a trail of fire behind. My skin is hot, too sensitive to bear. I’m hyperaware of every millimeter his fingers travel, and I wiggle my ass against his thighs, searching for friction. I’m met with a large, pulsating rod pressing on my core, granting me blessed relief. With firm, barely visible movement, he slowly grinds my hips against his dick.

I’m turned liquid.

“You’re writhing like a little minx now, aren’t you?” he murmurs, the words warm velvet against my neck. Without a warning, my body begins to shudder in a long release. He hisses in approval.

“It seems like you’re having a good time, angel?” He chuckles behind me as my tremors subside.

A strangled sound escapes me, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. I clamp my mouth shut, mortified, as heat floods my cheeks.

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