Page 10 of Pucked Mountain Man
He laughs—a real one this time—and my heart thuds.
For a few minutes we stop being patient and caretaker and just play.Swearing, trash-talking, sweating over a stupid plastic puck.
But then we hit three-three. There are only seconds left on the clock.
We both lean in. I hit the puck once more. Grady blocks it. The puck glides back across the table and stops near the center line.
The clock hits zero.
“A draw,” I say, breathless.
He huffs a laugh. “Care for a rematch?”
“Maybe,” I say, pulse hammering, “we need different stakes.”
“Such as?”
“Winner gets a kiss.”
Silence. His eyes flash. No joke. Noyour brother.Just watching me like I’m the only puck on the ice.
“Best of one,” he says, voice rough.
We count—one, two, three—and both stay still. The puck doesn’t move. Neither do we.
It’s unnecessary. No matter who scores the point, we’ll both end up winners.
We circle the table, meeting in the middle.
“Stevie,” he all but growls my name.
“Grady,” I whisper back.
His gaze drops to my mouth. My breath stops. He leans toward me, his hand cradling the back of my neck. His thumb brushes the sensitive skin below my ear.
He pauses, giving me time to move away. I don’t.
I rest my hand on his chest and lean up on my toes.
The first touch of my lips against his is soft and light. Barely a brush. Almost like a sample to acclimate our palettes. But it’s enough to set my heart fluttering.
The second. The second…
Our mouths crash. Our lips moving together, his strong and pressing. Mine soft and pliable.
Heat shoots through me, sending my heart into a full-fledged frenzy.
My hand fists in his hoodie as I tug him closer, opening my mouth to his. Allowing his tongue to meet mine. Turning myself over completely to him.
His grip on my waist holds me steady. He kisses me like he’s never tasted anything better. I kiss him back knowing I never have.
Heat tingles under my skin. His low groan echoes in my chest, stirring the need already churning inside me.
He pulls back slightly so we can catch our breaths, “Rockstar. You’re gonna be the end of me.”
“Maybe I’ll be the beginning,” I whisper.
Something seems to snap inside of him.
