Page 59 of Silver Fox Puck

I reach their table, step right into their space, and cut between them before Kingston can even blink.

Kenzie doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. She just looks up at me, her green eyes glinting with mischief.

"Grant," she purrs. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Pleasure.

I barely contain the growl building in my chest.

"You having fun?" I ask, voice low, controlled.

She tilts her head, amused. "Actually, yeah. Kingston’s great company."

My jaw ticks. My hands flex at my sides. I feel Kingston’s gaze on me, feel his lazy grin stretching wider.

"Relax, Coach," he drawls. "We’re just talking."

I don’t even look at him. My gaze stays locked on Kenzie. Because I don’t care about Kingston. I care about her. And the fact that she’s pushing me just to see how far I’ll let her go.

"Yeah?" I murmur, leaning down slightly, so close that she can feel my breath.

"Then why don’t we have our own talk?"

She blinks, but only once. "What makes you think I want to talk to you?"

My lips curve. Because I know her. I lean in just enough that only she can hear me.

"Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have made sure I saw this."

She freezes. For a fraction of a second—just long enough. And that’s when I know.

That’s when I know I’m right. This was never about Kingston.

This was about me.

I step into her space, close enough that she has to tilt her chin to meet my gaze, that she feels my body heat, even in this crowded bar.

Then, low and controlled, I say, "Let’s go, Flight."

Her breath hitches. Just slightly. Just enough.

Then her eyes flash. "Excuse me?"

"You wanted my attention." I lift a brow. "Now you have it."

She glares at me, daring me to back down.

I don’t.

And the best part?

She doesn’t either. She sets her drink down, rises slowly from her seat. And without a word she takes my hand. The moment her fingers slip into mine, I don’t hesitate.

I lead her through the bar, ignoring the heat of Kingston’s stare, the buzz of conversations fading into background noise.

Kenzie doesn’t resist. Not once. She follows me through the crowded space, out the door, into the cool night air.

Only then do I stop. Only then do I drop her hand. She takes a slow breath, crossing her arms, her expression unreadable.

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