Page 93 of Silver Fox Puck

The ice beneath my skates feels too solid, too permanent, too much like a damn metaphor.

Because I could move toward her. I could reach for her. I could pull her into me and let her figure this out after she’s already in my arms.

But that’s not what she needs.

Not this time.

She needs to decide.

So I stay still.

Watching. Waiting. Giving her space to figure out what the hell she’s doing here.

She shifts on her feet. Just slightly.

Not exactly stepping closer.

Not exactly stepping away.

Just... lingering.

Her gaze flicks to my mouth.

And that’s when I feel it.

The shift.

The tightening pull between us, the slow, deliberate gravity that’s been there since the night we met.

She wants to close the distance. I can see it. Hell, I can feel it.

The way her breath is just a little shallower now.

The way her pulse flutters at her throat.

The way her fingers flex at her sides, like she’s fighting the urge to reach for me.

I hold my ground.

And then—she steps forward.

Just one step.

Just enough.

The smell of her perfume wraps around me. Warm, familiar, impossible to ignore.

Her gaze flicks up, locking on mine.

And I think she’s going to kiss me.

I can see the decision forming behind those sharp green eyes.

She draws a breath, like she’s gearing up for something.

But before she can make a move—

I step back.

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