Page 45 of Silver Fox Puck

With me.

Kenzie doesn’t move. Neither do I. Too much silence. Too much weight.

Finally, she lifts her water bottle, takes a slow sip, and tilts her head. Like she’s daring me to break first.

I exhale sharply, forcing my feet forward, closing the distance whether I want to or not.

"Didn’t realize you had a permanent pass to the rink," I say, keeping my voice even.

Kenzie shrugs. "Perks of being a Williams."

I narrow my eyes. "That why you’re here? Just cashing in on perks?"

Her lips curve—not quite a smile, but damn close.

"You tell me, Silver Fox."

Holy hell. Every muscle in my body locks down. Because she’s playing with fire. Because I want to let her burn.

I step in closer, lowering my voice. "You should be careful with that name, Flight."

Kenzie leans in too, her breath warm against my skin. "And why’s that?"

Fuck. I don’t have an answer that doesn’t get me into trouble.

So instead, I shift my jaw, keep my body in check, and remind her—remind myself—why this can’t happen.

"I meant it, Flight." My voice is low. Warning. "No complications."

She should roll her eyes. Should throw some sarcastic quip at me and walk away. But she doesn’t. Instead, something flickers in her expression. Something fast and dangerous.

Then—just as she turns to leave—she glances back, lips curving, eyes flashing like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

"Too late, Silver Fox."

Then she’s gone.

And I’m standing there, pulse pounding, body coiled too tight, knowing damn well she’s right.

I’m fucking wrecked.

Chapter 9 – Kenzie

Ishouldn’t be this smug.

Shouldn’t feel this damn victorious. But as I step out of the rink, into the crisp afternoon air, I can’t stop smiling. Because I got to him. And I fucking loved it.

The way his breath hitched—just barely—when I threw my last shot over my shoulder. The way his fingers flexed, tightening into fists, like he was seconds from losing control.

Grant Maddox is unraveling. And I’m the one pulling the thread.

The thought sends a thrill through my veins, a pulse of something sharp and addictive coiling low in my stomach. I won that round. But the best part?

I don’t think the game is over. I pull out my phone, grinning as I scroll for a distraction—something to keep this buzz going.

Before I can open my messages, a call comes in.

Allie.

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