Page 91 of Lucky Mother Pucker

His dad leans back, his brow lifting in surprise.

“Let’s get one thing straight. You can shit-talk me all you want. But don’t you dare speak a negative word to her.”

I swallow hard at the low, lethal tone of his voice.

“Lucy is the only reason I showed up tonight. I didn’t want to come and pretend like we’re one big happy family when I can’t stand to be around you. But she offered to show up and support me. So you’re not going to stand there and question her character or accuse her of having an agenda.”

Rocco purses his lips like he’s pissed. “You listen to me, you little⁠—”

“We’re done.” Leo cuts him off before grabbing my hand and leading me down the hallway, around the corner.

As I walk beside him, my heart is pounding. Watching him stand up to his dad—stand up for me—has me feeling dizzy and hot all over.

I gaze up at him, at the wild look in his eyes and the tight set of his jaw.

I tug his hand, pulling him to a stop. I need to make sure he’s okay.

I reach up and grab his face in my hands.

“Leo,” I say softly. “Leo, look at me.”

A hard swallow moves down the length of his thick throat. He blinks, and that hard look in his eyes fades. The focus returns in his rich, mahogany stare. And something warm. Something that makes my skin tingle and my tummy dip.

He rests his hands on my waist. I can feel the energy racing through his body. He’s on edge, still buzzing. His chest is rising and falling as he breathes.

“Hey,” I whisper. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

He nods and closes his eyes, resting his forehead against mine.

“I…I just can’t…” His voice is ragged and desperate. He pushes me back a few steps until I’m against the wall.

I move one of my hands from his face to his chest and rest my palm over his heart. It’s beating like crazy.

“It’s okay. Breathe, Leo. For me,” I whisper.

He nods, eyes still closed, forehead still pressed against mine. We stay like that for a minute, until his heartbeat starts to slow.

He exhales slowly. His hot breath ghosts over my face and my neck. I shiver.

A second later, he leans his head back, holding my gaze.

His hands grip my waist harder. He moves closer and presses the front of his body against mine. He’s firm and warm, a wall of muscle.

“I can’t take him talking to you like that,” he finally says. “He can say whatever he wants to me. Not you. Never you.”

My heart skids in my chest at the words he says, at the rough sound of his voice, at the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m the only thing he sees. Like I’m the only thing that matters.

Now I’m the one breathing hard.

His fiery stare falls to my lips. His tongue peeks out of his mouth, running along the seam of his lips.

I tug at the front of his tux. I want him closer. I need him closer.

He hovers his lips over mine. He exhales, and my mouth waters at his breath skidding over my skin.

Goosebumps flash across my body. Every part of me is aching, throbbing.

We’re friends. We’re not supposed to do this…