Page 81 of Silver Fox Puck

She’s trying so damn hard to cling to her rules. Her escape routes. But this time? There’s nowhere left to run.

I take one last step. I watch her bite her lower lip.

“Still think this is just sex?” I murmur.

She shifts, barely moving.

I exhale slowly, my jaw tightening.

“Say it, Flight.”

She flinches. Because she can’t. She knows it. I know it. And the second she admits it?

We’re done pretending.

I reach up, brushing my fingers against her jaw. A test. She doesn’t pull away. So I go further.

I drag my hand down, resting my fingers beneath her chin, tilting her head just slightly.

She lets me.

Her breath slips out and catches.

And that’s when I know—

She’s already lost.

So I lean in.

Not rough. Not forceful. Just deliberate. Controlled.

My mouth hovers over hers; I can feel her warmth, but we’re still not touching.

Not yet.

Her body tenses. Her breathing goes shallow. Every muscle is locked up tight, like she’s fighting a war inside her own head. I stay exactly where I am. Watching. Waiting. Giving her the space to make the choice. A frustrated, nearly pained sound escapes her, like she’s still trying to fight it.

Then, she breaks. And drags my mouth to hers. The second she does? I lose every ounce of restraint I was holding onto. Because this isn’t soft.

This isn’t careful. This is messy, desperate, fucking inevitable.

Her hands yank at my shirt, desperate, urgent. Mine slam onto her hips, pulling her flush against me.

A sharp inhale. A low groan. A shiver rolls through her like she just surrendered to something inevitable.

I spin her, backing her against the counter, pressing into her, deepening the kiss until she’s melting into me.

Until she’s not thinking anymore.

Until she’s not running.

And when I finally pull back, just enough to catch my breath, I lean my forehead against hers and murmur—

“Told you.”

She lets out a shaky exhale.

And doesn’t deny it.

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