Page 61 of The Pucking Arrangement

“It pleases you that he has…control?” My voice is low, a hushed murmur threading through the charged air.

She exhales, sharp and unsteady, and the vein in her neck throbs visibly. Tempting. An invitation. Just a tilt of my head, and I could brush my lips over that delicate point. Bite her. Mark her. Feel her unravel beneath me.

“Mmhmm.” Her fingers twitch at her sides, like she wants to reach for something, maybe me. “The way he holds himself. All that strength is…”

She doesn’t finish the thought. But I feel the rest of the sentence like a brand against my skin.

Overwhelming. Unyielding. Capable of ruining me.

I should step back and put space between us. Be smarter than this.

But then again,fuck it.

I lean in. Not touching. Just letting her feel me there, close enough that my heat mingles with hers, close enough that the shallow hitch in her breath is a song I suddenly need to memorize.

Letting her know exactly how close she is to making me forget every rule I swore I’d follow.

“Control. Strength.” My voice is nothing more than a whisper, meant only for her. “Anything else that’s pulling you in?”

We both know we’re not talking about Attalus anymore.

She hums, feigning nonchalance, but her fingers tighten around the strap of her purse like she needs something to hold onto and anchor herself.

“Oh, you know.” A lazy flick of her hand. “His posture. Kind of like…” Her voice dips, turning downright sinful. “A hockey player.”

Heat licks up my spine.

“Is this how you see me?” My restraint frays, snapping just enough to let the words slip free, low and teasing, dark with intent. “Naked?”

Her breath catches.

But then—then she smirks.

And I know.

She’s about to ruin me.

“With those proportions?” Her gaze drags from the statue, slow and deliberate, back to me. “I don’t know. Do they match?”

A thrumming coils low in my belly, her words rocketing through my bloodstream like a supernova. I shift even closer, the heat rolling off her skin fusing with mine. A live wire hums between us, crackling with everything we shouldn’t do.

And just like that, I break.

“Is that something you’d like to verify?” My voice is a lazy rumble, my breath stirring the loose strands of her hair.

She inhales sharply, fire painting her cheeks. Her pulse flutters at the base of her throat, visible and frantic.

Then she leans in.

A fraction of a second. A slip in this game between us. A moment where the air between us ceases to exist.

Where there is nothing separating us.

And then?—

“Papa!”

The word crashes between us like a gunshot.

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