Page 24 of Of Pucking Course

“If I had to help my mom set up her TV or phone or any electronic, we’d murder each other.”

Sam laughs.

“I’m much better at the fun stuff. Like taking hershopping and helping her update her makeup and hairstyle,” I say.

“Can you imagine how bad I’d be at that?”

I burst out laughing. Sam pulls into his driveway and parks his car. We walk inside and Sam flips on the coffee maker, then opens the freezer and pulls out a bag of blueberries. I head to the hallway bathroom to shower and get ready for work.

When I finish getting dressed, I head back out to the kitchen and grab the container of stir fry I set aside for lunch today. I spot an empty thermos on the counter, next to the half-full coffee pot. I smile. Sam made enough coffee for me and remembered that I always drink iced coffee.

I grab the thermos and press it against the ice maker of the fridge, but nothing happens. A second later, the fridge makes a sudden grinding noise. It gets louder by the second.

I pull the thermos away right as I hear Sam’s voice down the hall.

“The ice maker is jammed,” he says behind me. “There are ice cube trays in the freezer for you.”

I open the freezer and grab a tray. I spin around to the kitchen island and start popping ice into my cup.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize…” I trail off as I look up at Sam.

My eyes go wide, and I drop the ice cube tray onto the counter…

Sam is standing on the other side of the kitchen island, dripping wet, wearing nothing but a towel.

For a solid ten seconds, I’m quiet. I can’t formulate a single word. All I can do is stand there and stare at Sam’s flawless physique.

The only other time I’ve ever seen Sam half-naked like this was during Del and Ingrid’s Halloween party earlierthis season. Sam dressed up as Adam from the Garden of Eden and wore flesh-colored boxer briefs with green leaves stitched on them…and nothing else.

I had the same reaction seeing him that night as I’m having now—stunned, rendered utterly speechless by his body.

And just like that night, I drink in the glorious sight of him with hungry, eager eyes.

My gaze runs along every hard line and bulging muscle of his body. He’s ripped. Like, actually ripped.

I mean, I’ve always known Sam was in excellent shape. He’s a professional hockey player, after all. But to see him like this—half naked, wearing nothing but a towel, his skin wet and glistening—does something to my brain. I can’t stop staring.

To see him nearly naked, dripping wet, looking like a jacked, blonde, Poseidon emerging from the sea, triggers some basic cavewoman urge lingering in my DNA.

I swallow hard, my throat dry all of a sudden. I know I’m gawking at him like a total creep. But I can’t help it. I’m like a moth drawn to a flame.

My wide eyes scan his sculpted shoulders and chest, down the planes of his six-pack, catching on those V-lines that trail beneath his towel.

And then I stare at his towel, between his legs…and that’s when I see the outline of something large against his thigh…

Invisible flames flash across my skin. My eyes go wide. Holywhoa. Sam ispacking.

“I have to get that ice machine fixed,” he says, jolting me out of my stupor.

He gestures at it, and my gaze catches on his massive hand. His hands are the size of baseball gloves.

There’s a faint ache between my legs as I fixate on the size of his thick fingers. I’ve always known Sam had big hands, but seeing him like this, looking like an Adonis, has my brain drifting off to some very, very filthy places…

I wonder what his palm would feel like pressed against my pussy…what his fingers would feel like inside of me…

A shiver shoots through me.

He frowns at the ice machine and runs a hand through his wet hair. He turns to me and offers a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. I know that’s annoying.”

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