Page 61 of The Puckable Playbook

She reaches out, and I quickly grab her hands, lowering to kneel in front of her. “Not tonight, sweetie.”

Her lips press together. Rejection flashes in her eyes.

“No, listen.” I slide forward to cup her face. “I vow no one—not even myself—will touch me until you’re ready. Because this, right here, it’s all yours, Lenore.”

“What if I am ready?”

I brush my fingers over her cheekbone. “This is no judgment whatsoever. It’s my own possessiveness. Next time, it’ll be our date. You’ll squeeze your body into a dress like that for me. From start to finish, you’ll think about me and only me.”

“You’re mad about Clark?”

“I’m not mad about Clark. You’ve been in your bed, lying awake, thinking about us.”

“He was the safe choice,” she admits. “While you were…never going to happen.”

Her words punch a hole in my gut. She’s right. It took me being in her face twenty-four seven to see her. It makes me question my own judgment.

I start to stand, and she reaches out to grab my shoulder. “Stay with me tonight? Just to sleep?”

Nodding, I undress down to my boxers as she watches. When I start to slip into bed, she turns her back to me. “Can you get my zipper?”

I find the white tab at the top and pull it down slowly, revealing every inch of her bare back. My mouth goes dry.

“Thank you.”

I trace my finger down her back, and she shivers.

“No fair,” she breathes out. After a brief moment, she stands to grab a shirt. It’s dark in the corner without the light from the living room spilling in through the open door, but I see the outline of her body as she drops her dress then tugs on an oversized T-shirt.

Turning, she walks back over slowly, setting her glasses on the nightstand. She kneels on the bed before getting in andsettling onto her pillow. I scoot closer, sliding in next to her and wrapping my arm around her midsection.

We both lie awake for some time, breaths steadily evening out. My lids start to flutter, but not until she’s already asleep next to me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Len

The steamof the coffee fills my nostrils as I stride into the newspaper room. The place is nearly full, which tells me I’m late. Well, not really late, just not early like normal. We don’t have hours I could actually be late for, but I like to spend as much time as possible here to accustom myself to being in a newsroom for the rest of my career.

Flora lifts her gaze when I drop my stuff across from her. “Someone looks like she got laid. Did you and Clark…” She waggles her brows.

I’m about to launch into the story about Clark and the disaster that was our date at Bubbles, but a hand touches my shoulder. “Hey.”

I nearly jump out of my seat and peer up to find Clark staring down at me. We haven’t talked since he dropped me off outside Knightley a couple of nights ago and so much has happened since then.

“Hey,” I eke out.

“I got your text. I didn’t find your key in my car.”

Turns out, my key had been in my purse the whole time and my drunk ass hadn’t seen it. What are the odds? “I actually found it. Thanks for checking, though.”

He rubs my shoulder. “I feel bad that you were locked out.”

I maneuver away from his touch. “Zaiah was there.”

“Oh.” He pauses for a moment. “Good.”

Zaiah and I got together because I thought I’d lost that key. It was fate. He swooped in like a knight on a white horse. The whole thing was meant to be. Plus, now that I’m sober, I agree with him. Clark had no business making me leave Bubbles only to drop me off at the curb of my place.

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