Page 106 of Silver Fox Puck

His fingers slide deeper, parting me, stroking where I’m already aching.

I whimper, hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in.

He finds my rhythm instantly—like he knows my body better than I do.

"There you go," he whispers against my ear, curling his fingers just right. "That’s my girl."

I cry out, hips rocking against his hand, the pleasure building so fast it borders on unbearable.

And when his mouth finds mine again, it’s filthier now—tongue and teeth, low sounds that match the slick pulse of his fingers inside me.

I shiver with every touch. Not from nerves. Not from doubt.

But from the way he makes me feel seen. Like I’m not just something to be conquered. Like I’m his to worship.

And that? That’s what undoes me.

His forehead presses to mine, his breath warm against my lips.

"No takebacks, Flight."

My throat tightens.

Because he’s right.

Because this isn’t just want.

It’s something deeper.

Something I’ve never let myself feel before.

And when he finally kisses me again—slow, tender, devastating— With his fingers still buried inside me, his palm grinding against the ache at my core—I fall.

Completely.

Chapter 24 – Kenzie

Iwake up slowly.

Not with a jolt. Not in a rush.

Just… drifting up through layers of warmth and exhaustion.

And I don’t wake up alone.

The first thing I feel is heat.

The solid, steady weight of an arm wrapped around my waist, holding me close. The slow, deep rise and fall of a chest against my back. The steady, rhythmic breath against my hair.

And it should startle me. It should make my pulse spike, my brain scramble, my fight-or-flight instincts kick in.

Because this isn’t how I do things… right? This isn’t who I am. I don’t stay. I don’t wake up wrapped in someone else’s arms, feeling…safe.

But right now? I don’t want to move. I don’t want to break the spell. And that realization hits me harder than anything else.

I blink against the early morning light filtering through my curtains, letting myself feel it.

The warmth. The stillness. The way Grant’s fingers flex slightly against my stomach, even in his sleep. He knows I’m here.

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