Page 67 of The Pucking Player

In one fluid motion, his hands find my waist like they’ve been searching for me all night. The intensity in his eyes unravels me.

“You don’t need to thank me, angel,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, like he’s barely holding himself back. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop at just walking you to your door.”

My heart slams against my ribs as the tension between us builds, sharp and electric. My eyes drop to the impressive outline of his rock-hard cock straining against his pants, and my skin blooms with heat. He takes my hand and places it over his crotch, big and pulsating. I don’t pull away, and he lets out a ragged breath.

“Maybe I don’t want you to stop,” I whisper, the words escaping before I can overthink them, feeling his hard heat under my palm.

That’s all it takes. I practically hear his restraint snapping like a tightly wound rubber band.

His hand tightens on my waist, and even through my coat, his touch burns. I sway toward him without meaning to, like he’s gravity, and I’m helpless to resist.

When our lips meet, it’s like every nerve ending in my body lights up at once. A small, needy sound escapes my throat before I can stop it. I drag my nails through his hair and pull him closer.

“You have class tomorrow, angel,” he warns, but then his lips slam into mine again with a groan erupting from his core. His hand tangles in my hair as he deepens the kiss.

And I forget how to breathe.

My fingers clutch at his shoulders, my body arching into his. He presses me gently against the door, swallowing my quiet moan. He tastes like possibility and danger and everything I’ve never let myself want.

He tugs open the button of my pants, pulling down the zipper and sliding his finger inside my lace panties. He quickly finds my clit, swollen and slick with my arousal, and rubs the pad of his finger over it. I whimper, rocking my hips and grinding against him, and he sinks his hand deeper into my panties, gliding his fingers through my wet folds. He flicks his tongue against mine, his mouth growing increasingly fervent.

My pussy floods with liquid heat, and my moan is muffled by his mouth.

“You are divine, angel.” He smirks, continuing to tease my entrance. “Let me hear you scream my name.”

“Liam,” I breathe against his mouth, pliant. A powerful orgasm tears through me like a tornado, and he continues stroking me until the tremors subside.

“I like it when you say my name, angel,” he murmurs,and the roughness in his voice does things to me I didn’t know were possible.

He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against mine as we both try to catch our breath. Looking into his eyes, dark with desire, I barely recognize myself. This isn’t me. I don’t do this. I don’t let hockey players finger fuck me senseless outside my dorm room.

He removes his fingers from my panties and licks them clean, looking me in the eye.

“Delicious.” He smirks, then presses his mouth against my neck. “Goodnight, angel,” he murmurs finally, voice wrecked. “I hear you have an early class tomorrow.”

I nod, fumbling with my keys like I’ve forgotten how they work. But before I slip inside, I give him one last look—and immediately regret it. Because the way he’s looking at me makes me want to drag him into my room and forget all about medicine.

After closing the door, I lean against it, my legs still trembling. My panties are soaked, my hair’s a mess, and my lips feel deliciously swollen.

What just happened?

The good girl who color-codes her study notes and hasn’t missed a single class since freshman year just let Liam O’Connor get to third base in a public hallway.

And holy hell, it was worth it.

My phone buzzes, making me jump.

[Jenna]: Sooooo... How was the concert? Did hockey boy hit any high notes?

I bite my lip, fighting a grin.

[Me]: Let’s just say his hands are talented both on and off the ice.

[Jenna]: SOPHIE NOVAK! You little slut! I need details! ALL THE DETAILS!

[Me]: I plead the fifth.

[Jenna]: Fine, keep your secrets. BTW staying at Marc’s tonight. His roommate’s gone home for the weekend.

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