Page 68 of Puck Happens

I cupped the back of her neck, her hair falling over my hands.

Her mouth was everything I’d ever wanted. Like this was how kissing was meant to be. Not just foreplay to get to the main event, but the event itself.

Her hands were on my shoulders and like that first time, it felt like she wanted to climb me like a tree. I cupped her bottom and she hopped, actually hopped up into my arms, her legs secure around my waist.

No fear now.

Because I wasn’t picking her up. She was in control.

My brain registered the thought, vaguely. Then I was turning her and sitting her ass on the prep counter. I needed room to work, space to explore. I needed her to feel completely secure so I could touch her everywhere my hands wanted to go.

“Dillon,” she groaned. “This is bad.”

She tilted her head back and I kissed her neck. Softly behind her ear, harder where her neck met her clavicle.

“Honey, this is the opposite of bad.”

“They make food here.”

My whole body was humming. Like a tuning fork that had hit the right chord. Was I shaking when I slipped my hand up inside the lightweight sweater she was wearing? I touched skin, soft and warm, then met the restriction of a silk bra and wanted to howl with frustration.

Everything. Now.

It’s what my brain wanted. It’s what my body wanted.

My dick firmly agreed.

Suddenly, a noise registered. A door closing.

“Oh shit. Sorry man.”

I came up for air, having buried my nose in the crook of Liv’s neck and shoulder and looked around. Dave, the Gull’s bartender, was standing in the kitchen, a set of keys in his hand.

It took a few seconds to register his presence.

“I’ve got to prep the bar, man,” he said, as if I needed an explanation. “We open in like an hour.”

“Right. The bar.”

“Sorry,” Liv said, as she hopped down from her seat on the counter. “I told you this was bad,” she hissed at me.

I grabbed her hand. “We’ll get out of your way, Dave. Uh…maybe you don’t have to tell Wendy about this.”

“Tell Wendy about what?” Dave asked.

I nodded in appreciation.

Not that I cared if Wendy knew I was sucking face with a woman in the kitchen of her bar, but if she did know there would be a million questions to follow. Good questions about whether it was smart to make out with a member of the coaching staff.

It wasn’t smart. But it wasn’t going to stop me.

We headed for the back door where Dave had come into the kitchen and stepped outside into the late afternoon sunshine.

The apple cider sugar smell of the festival filled the air even blocks away. “You want to go back to the festival?” I asked. “There’s an apple dunking contest tonight. You could make some kids cry.”

She shook her head, her gray eyes gleaming silver in the sunlight.

“I rented that apartment, over the bookstore.”

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