Page 44 of Zero Pucks

“You don’t need to piss, do you?”

He flushed. “I thought maybe you’d want a minute with your, ah, friend. I don’t want to make it awkward. I mean, he knows we’re not really married, right? So if you want the…uh…t-time together…”

“Oh my God,no. He wasn’t serious,” I told him, stepping closer. “He’s never sucked a dick in his life. That’s just how he is. We’re not a thing.”

Amedeo ducked his head. “He’s good-looking, and you’re gorgeous. It kind of makes sense.”

I scoffed. “Trust me, it doesn’t. He’s a good friend, and I might take him up on his job offer because coaching peewee pays jack shit, but no. No blowjobs. Not from him.”

Biting his lip, he kept his gaze down. “Okay. Just know that if you want to hit on someone, I won’t get in your way.”

I hated him for saying that, even though I had no right to. We weren’t a thing. And yet… He didn’t flinch as I stepped closer, and he didn’t do anything other than lean in when I put my hand on his shoulder. “You’ll never be in the way.”

He swallowed heavily. “If you say so.”

There was something in his tone—something heavy. I had a feeling it had everything to do with the fact that he was trembling and hadn’t ordered more than a rabbit would eat.

“Deo, sweetheart, are you okay?”

He blinked rapidly like he’d been startled. Maybe sweetheart was too far, too fast. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Yeah, he was lying. “Can I ask how you ended up with Ford today?”

His gaze shot up and met mine, his ears now pink. “Oh. Uh…we just ran into each other, is all.”

That didn’t sound right. Ford had been on the road all morning. “Where?”

Amedeo glanced away.

“Did he show up at your place? Oh my God, I’m going to fucking kill him if he?—”

“No! No.” He swallowed and looked back at me again. “He saw me on the side of the road having just a-a tiny, b-baby panic attack. I tried to tell him I was fine, but he said you’d kill him if you knew he’d left me there.”

I stepped in closer, and I didn’t realize I was boxing him up against the wall until I heard a dull thud, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. Not if the way his flushed cheeks were getting darker by the second. His lips parted on a soft, panting breath.

“He was right,” I murmured, my voice low. “I would havemurderedhim if he left you there to panic on your own.”

Amedeo licked his lips, and I wanted to chase the path of his tongue with my own. “I was fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look like you need a—” A tongue in his mouth. A good, distracting orgasm. A cuddle, maybe? Anything to take that expression off his face.

“A what?” he whispered.

I couldn’t stop myself. I curled my hand against his jaw and stroked my thumb over his flush-warm skin. “We had a kiss, but neither of us remembers it.”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“Want to try again?” Fuck, I was not usually this bold. Not ever. But something about the way Amedeo looked at me made me feel like I could take on the goddamn world. I pressed my chest to his, and I could feel the inhale and exhale of his trembling breath.

“You won’t forget this time?”

“I’m as sober as a…a…thing that’s really sober,” I told him.

He burst into a quiet fit of giggles, and his hands flailed out before settling on my waist. Christ, they felt good there. It sparked a hidden memory—no real images but the echo of what had been that night in Vegas. His touch was so familiar, and I wanted more.

I liked him, God help me.

God help us both.

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