Page 76 of The Puck Contract

His eyes widen further, pupils blown so wide there's barely a ring of hazel left. "I—yes. God, yes."

I reach for his belt, maintaining eye contact as I undo it with practiced ease. The button and zipper follow, his breathing growing more ragged with each small movement. When I hook my fingers in his waistband, silently asking him to lift his hips, he complies immediately.

His jeans slide down, revealing black boxer briefs that do nothing to hide how affected he is. I help him kick the denim away, then sit back on my heels, taking in the sight of him—all long limbs and flushed skin, hair tousled from my hands, lips parted as he watches me with focused intent.

"You're thinking too much," I observe, noting the slight furrow between his brows, the way his fingers twist in the sheets beside him.

"Hard not to," he admits with a shaky laugh. "This is... new territory."

An idea forms, something I'd considered earlier but wasn't sure if he'd be open to. "I might have a solution for that," I say, rising to my feet. "Wait here."

I go to my closet, retrieving a silk tie—dark blue, expensive enough to be soft against skin. When I return, his eyes lock onto it immediately, understanding dawning.

"A blindfold?" he asks, voice barely audible.

I nod, sitting beside him on the bed. "Sometimes limiting one sense heightens the others. Makes it easier to just feel without analyzing everything."

He stares at the tie, lower lip caught between his teeth. I can practically see the gears turning in that brilliant brain of his, weighing curiosity against vulnerability, desire against control.

"You don't have to," I assure him quickly. "It was just an idea. We can—"

"No," he interrupts, face set with determination. "I want to try it. I trust you."

Those three simple words hit me like a truck. I swallow hard against the sudden tightness in my throat, the weight of that trust settling on my shoulders like both burden and gift.

"You sure?" I ask softly, giving him one more chance to back out.

He nods, turning to face me fully. "I'm sure. I want... I want to stop thinking for once. Just feel."

I lift the tie, folding it carefully into a band. "If at any point you want it off, just say so. No questions asked."

He nods again, eyes locked on mine until the last moment when the silk covers them. I secure it with a loose knot, careful not to catch any hair, then check the fit.

"Too tight?"

"No, it's good." His voice has already changed, lower, breathier.

I wave a hand in front of his face to confirm he can't see. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Thirty-seven?"

"Lucky guess," I tease, noting how some of the tension has already left his shoulders. "Tell me how you're feeling."

"Exposed," he admits, then quickly adds, "But in a good way. Like... suspended. Waiting."

I press a soft kiss to his shoulder, feeling him startle slightly at the unexpected contact. "Good. I want you to just focus on sensation. No thinking. No analyzing. Just feeling."

I guide him to lie back on the bed, arranging him against the pillows before crawling over, careful not to put my full weight on him. The sight of him spread out beneath me, blindfolded and vulnerable, sends another surge of heat through me so intense it's almost painful.

"I'm going to touch you now," I warn him, giving him time to anticipate.

I start with his hands, bringing each one to my lips, pressing kisses to his palms, his wrists, feeling the accelerated pulse there. His breathing quickens as I work my way up his arms, across his shoulders, down his chest.

Without his vision, every touch seems amplified. He arches into each point of contact, soft sounds of pleasure escaping him that he'd probably suppress if he could see me watching. The blindfold has freed him from self-consciousness, from overthinking.

"You're so responsive," I whisper against his skin as I kiss my way down his stomach, feeling the muscles jump beneath my lips. "So perfect."

I trace the waistband of his boxers with my tongue, a teasing preview that has him lifting his hips in clear invitation. His hands find my shoulders, fingers digging in almost painfully.

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