Tomboy

said, the gravel in his tone showing just how close to the edge of saying fuck it and tossing her over his shoulder that he was. “There’s only one way tonight ends.”

“How’s that?” she asked.

“Naked. Sweaty. Drained. Exhilarated. Probably sore. Definitely satisfied.”

A promise? A warning? It was all that and more.

She half closed her eyes and shivered against him. “Let’s go, Zach.”

Chapter Twelve

Breaking: Blackburn and Lady Luck Spotted During Cozy Dinner for Two

Okay, hockey fans. I’m not about to turn The Biscuit into a love lives of the rich and famous, but this is hockey-related. A few minutes ago, an Ice Knights fan who just happened to be at Mama’s Place in Waterbury caught sight of none other than Zach Blackburn and his own Lady Luck getting mighty cozy. Of course, the fan snuck a pic and Tweeted it out. The shots included one of Blackburn feeding her the metro area’s most famous guacamole. Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking—that’s a little extra. It is! But…well, hockey fans, I stan it and judging by how much social media has exploded about the couple, now coined #TeamZuck, since Lady Luck was first spotted at his house, I’m not the only one.

@DailyDoseOfSugar: OMG! Just met Zach and Lady Luck at the clinic meet and greet today they are adorbs together! #TeamZuck

@Don’tGiveAPuck: ?I am HERE for #TeamZuck. We need to get these 2 together for real!

@HannahB: I am more invested in #TeamZuck than my relationship with my own boyfriend. Sorry, Andy.

Not that the assholes of Harbor City have stopped assholing.

@Parkerd6280: You’d figure with those man hands she could feed herself. #TeamZuck #TeamCouldDoBetter

@MascaraMama: Girl, you better up your game or he’s gonna look elsewhere. And there will be plenty of us waiting in the wings looking like we just walked outta a magazine. #TeamZuck #ImHereZach #RealTalk

I reached out to Blackburn’s agent, Kyle Jackson, to find out if this thing with Lady Luck is more than a publicity stunt gone all so right in the eyes of Harbor City’s romantics. His answer was less than satisfying.

“Mr. Blackburn is focused on hockey and doing whatever it takes to give the Ice Knights fans an amazing experience at the arena. I won’t be commenting on his private life.”

Yep, that’s it, two sentences that say nothing.

And don’t bother to rush down to Mama’s Place to catch a glimpse of them and get the real story. My sources (okay, Twitter), tell me they left minutes ago—together.

You know what that says to me, hockey fans? That this relationship is on and like @Don’tGiveAPuck, I am HERE for it.

Chapter Thirteen

They no more than made it into Zach’s house before he swung the door shut, picked Fallon up, and did a spin move that had her sandwiched between the wall and him. His mouth against hers was like a one-milliliter shot of epinephrine surging through her body. Every nerve in her was screaming oh-my-God-finally. And his hands on her ass? If she thought about how good that felt when they were still fully dressed, she just might orgasm right on the spot, and there was no way she was feeding his ego like that.

The whole point of this was to get Zach Blackburn out of her system in the most efficient way possible. The fact that it involved orgasms—yes, with an S—was just an added benefit.

She might regret going about it like this—hell, odds were she totally would—but it all felt too good now to think about that. Plus, there was that thing he was doing with his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her body as he pressed that big hard cock of his—sadly still covered in denim—against her core that pretty much obliterated any thought of changing her mind.

An electric pulse hummed through her body, and she tightened her legs around his hips and brought herself closer to him, reaching for some kind of relief. It was better but so not there yet.

Breaking the kiss, she unwrapped her legs. “Let me down.”

Uncertainty flashed across his face, but he didn’t hesitate, allowing her feet to touch the floor.

“Everything okay?” he asked, moving his hands off her and taking a step back, giving her more than enough space to make a run for the door. “You don’t have to do this.”

And there it was again, a glimpse of that soft center that totally fucked with her, and all of Harbor City’s, perception of him as a complete and unapologetic asshole. It would be so much easier if he were that guy. Then she wouldn’t have to say this next part.

“I want to be upfront on one thing.”

“As long as it’s not that you have a Cajun Rage tattoo,” he said, reaching out and curling the end of her braid around his fingers. “I’m sure we can work through it.”