Page 5 of Silver Fox Puck

I don’t move toward him. Not yet.

But I shift. Slight.

A lean in.

Elbows to the bar.

Chest angled just enough.

A signal.

Subtle. Calculated.

But a signal, nonetheless.

And the slight sharpness in his gaze tells me—

He got the message.

His gaze drapes across my skin—

Not demanding.

Not expectant.

Just there. Heavy. Grounded.

And the longer I hold his gaze, the deeper the tension knots in my stomach.

This isn’t just attraction.

It’s something else entirely.

There’s only one thing left to do.

Act.

I arch my back, pretending to stretch—like I’m just adjusting, like I’m still deciding.

This is what I do when I need good company.

I keep it light. Easy.

Except my pulse is racing.

And I don’t know if I’m the one running this moment anymore.

Or if he is.

I should walk away.

I don’t.

I knock back the last of my drink and place the empty glass on the bar a little harder than necessary.

A sharp sound.

A tiny rebellion.

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