Page 62 of Silver Fox Puck

I don’t hesitate. Not this time. Not when she’s looking at me like that—like she wants me to ruin her. Like she’s daring me to.

I don’t think. I just move.

One second, she’s smirking up at me, challenging me. The next, she’s against the wall, breath racing, clutching my shirt like she needs me to hold her up. She doesn’t resist. Doesn’t hesitate. She pulls me in—hard and fast—like she’s just as desperate as I am.

Her body melts into mine as I crush my mouth against hers.

And I’m gone.

She opens for me, breathless, letting me in. Letting me take, explore, claim. Her hands roam—gripping my shoulders, sliding into my hair, pulling. I groan against her mouth, pressing her tighter against the wall, letting her feel exactly what she does to me.

She moans—soft and breathy and fucking perfect. I slide a hand down to her thigh, gripping tight before lifting. She gets the message immediately. Her legs wrap around my waist, locking us together, making it impossible to tell where she ends and I begin.

Fuck.

She’s going to kill me. Her body shifts against mine, needy and restless. I break the kiss, dragging my mouth to her jaw, her throat, the sensitive skin below her ear. I nip, just enough to make her gasp.

She arches, pressing her hips into mine. I groan, my control slipping.

"Still sure about this, Flight?" I murmur against her pulse, letting my teeth scrape lightly.

Her fingers tighten in my hair. "Don’t you dare stop," she breathes.

A dark chuckle rumbles in my chest. "Wasn’t planning on it."

The next few moments are a blur of heat, movement, and desperation.

Clothes?

Gone.

Breathing?

Optional.

The second her clothes hit the floor, I devour her.

My hands roam, sliding over smooth curves, exploring every inch of exposed skin. She’s soft everywhere, but she’s strong too. And fuck, I love that.

I guide her toward the bed, but she surprises me in a move of hers I remember all too well from Denver.

She shoves me. I fall back onto the mattress. But this time, she’s too fast for me to flip us over and take control. She’s on me, straddling my hips, dragging her nails down my chest. I groan, fisting my hands at my sides.

"Careful," I murmur, warning threaded thick in my tone.

Kenzie smirks, leaning down until her lips brush my jaw. "Or what?"

I grip her hips then, flipping us so fast she gasps. Now she’s beneath me, panting, breathless, wide-eyed. I grab her wrists, pinning them above her head, holding her in place.

"Or I stop letting you play."

Her breath hitches. Her thighs tighten around me. Her eyes darken.

"Maybe I don’t want to play anymore."

My restraint snaps. I crash my mouth back onto hers, taking exactly what I need.

Her moan vibrates against my tongue, and I take it deeper—biting, tasting, devouring. Her legs wrap around my waist, hips grinding up, already frantic with need. I drag my hand between us, shove her panties aside, and groan into her mouth when I feel how wet she is. Dripping. Ready. Fuck, she’s soaked.

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