Page 103 of Silver Fox Puck

And I feel it everywhere.

In the way my pulse thuds, slow and deep.

In the way my stomach tightens, anticipation licking at my spine.

In the way he sits there, his fingers flexing slightly against his thigh.

I turn to face him. He watches me, expression unreadable.

I swallow. “You coming in?”

His jaw ticks. Like he’s considering it. Like he’s weighing what it means. And when he finally speaks, his voice is lower. Rougher.

"You sure about this?"

The question shouldn’t make my breath hitch.

But it does. Because it’s not about sex. It’s about everything. About us. About the fact that this time, it’s different.

And we both know it.

I reach for his jacket. Slide my fingers under the lapels.

Slow. Intentional. A choice.

"Come inside, Grant."

His chest rises on an inhale.

Then, finally—

We move.

I don’t know who moves first.

Maybe it’s him.

Maybe it’s me.

Maybe it’s the universe finally shoving us together because we were always meant to end up right here.

But the second the door closes behind us, everything changes.

The air between us thickens, heats. And right now, I don’t second-guess a damn thing.

Grant stands just inside my entryway, tall, broad, devastatingly composed. I can hear his breathing—slow, steady, controlled.

Too controlled. Like he’s holding back. Like he’s waiting for me to tell him I changed my mind.

But I don’t.

Instead, I step into him.

So close that our chests nearly brush, that his heat wraps around me, pulling me in, drowning me in him.

And when I slide my hands up his chest, fingertips skimming over firm muscle, over the heartbeat thrumming beneath his skin—

He finally lets go.

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