Tricky Puck: a Fake Fiancee Hockey Rom-Com (Portsmouth Whalers Hockey Romance)

Chapter 5

The mouthwatering scent of our food wafts up from the dish the server placed in front of me, and entices me, but only for a split second. The effect of the food disappears in a blink—as soon as Delaney leans forward, dipping low to show off her gift of gleaming plump breasts, squeezed together in hypnotizing cleavage, lighting up every nerve I have in blinding, lusty pleasure.

If her drunken charm warms me, then her breasts on display hurl me straight into the fires of hell. The imprint of desire burns on my soul and turns me into the devil himself. Maybe she’s right about my resemblance to a pirate. Tearing my gaze from her, I look for the server and frown because the last thing I want to do is call her back after her animosity toward Delaney.

It felt right to banish the girl at the time. I did what any self-respecting pirate would do—banish the enemy.

Now, with the server gone and the food nowhere in my zone of interest—which is unheard of, though I don’t care to examine the reason for that anomaly right now—there’s only one thing on my radar, one urgent thing I need. I need to taste Delaney’s mouth, to feel her body up close and personal to—fuck.

We need to get out of here. Except the urgency I feel won’t wait. I need someone to bring me the check and pack up our meal. Looking around for anyone besides our overzealous server to take care of us, I spot the host and beckon the man over. He hustles toward our booth.

“What’s going on?” Delaney says.

“No way are we staying to eat. And no way do I want that server coming back to this table again.”

Delaney smiles her charming half-drunken smile. “Now you’re my protector from evil, jealous serving wenches.” The dreamy softness of her expression takes the sarcastic bite out of her words, and I smile, nodding.

“That’s why the pirate always gets the girl.”

“Dare I ask what you’re going to do with the girl now that you have her?”

We stare, communicating through the heat of our sizzling gazes like we have an electric current arcing between us, holding us in place, connecting us.

The host coughs. “Is there something I can?—”

“We need to leave. Pack up our meals and bring over the bill.” I stand, pull a few large bills from my wallet, and hand them to the man. Then I turn my attention to Delaney because I can’t help myself. I’ve never felt desperate before, so I’m not sure, but this must be it. At least my diamond-cutter dick is damned desperate.

“How about if I escort you to the ladies’ room before we go.” It’s not a question, and I pull the table away from her so she can get out of the booth.

“Now you’re moving the table?”

I lean in to whisper in her ear as she stands, gripping her hand.

“We need to escape so that I can ravage you. But I don’t want to wait.”