Page 8 of Off-Limits as Puck

When we reach the elevator bank, I turn to face her one more time.

“Last chance to change your mind,” I tell her. “Because once we get in that elevator, I’m not going to want to let you go.”

She steps closer. “Then don’t,” she whispers.

And just like that, I’m a goner.

5

The hotel room door clicks shut behind us, and suddenly the air feels charged. Almost suffocating like if he doesn’t pull a move on me right this second, I will die. I’ve never in my life felt like I was dying for someone’s attention like this.

Reed’s suite is beautiful. There are floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Strip, expensive furniture that screams luxury, but I barely register any of it because he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.

“We—” he starts, but I don’t let him finish.

I close the distance between us and press my lips to his, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The kiss is even better than I imagined. I’m not sure what I imagined, but this… his lips kissing back is life-altering. I move my lips, wrapping my arms around him, inhaling his scent. Everything about him floods my senses.

When both his hands frame my face, I melt into him, needingmore. Suddenly I’m in his arms and licking my tongue against his. I grind my hips against his, hoping to find what I’m searching for, but he’s so damn tall that I’m resting on his waist.

His hands grip my ass, and I arch into him. The tiara slips, but I don’t fix it. It falls to the ground as we laugh against each other’s mouths.

Holy shit, this is intoxicating more than anyone I’ve ever kissed. The kiss deepens, is consuming, hungry, desperate, like we’ve been waiting our whole lives for this moment.

When he pulls away, we’re both breathing hard.

“Wait,” he says, his voice rough. “I realized I never got your name—”

“Kiss me,” I demand, my heart racing for reasons that have nothing to do with the kiss. The last thing I need is for him to connect me to my father, to think this is some kind of setup or that I’m using him for access to the hockey world.

He drops me on the bed and leans down to kiss me. Thank God.

This time I let myself sink into the sensation of his lips against mine, his hands tangling in my hair, the way he tastes like vanilla gelato. I reach for his shirt.

“You’re full of surprises,” he says.

“I promise you that I’m really not.”

And then I’m kissing him again, pulling him closer to me. I want to feel the weight of his body on me. I’ve never been the aggressor before, never been the one to take charge, but something about Reed makes me want to be bold. Makes me want to take what I want instead of waiting for it to happen to me.

“Is this okay?” I ask, tugging at his shirt.

“More than okay,” he breathes. “But are you sure? Because oncewe—”

“I’m sure.” I pull back to look at him, this beautiful, complicated man who’s been gentle with me all night despite his reputation. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He lifts his arms and lets me pull his shirt over his head, and oh. Oh my. I knew he was big, knew he was strong from the way he held me, but seeing him like this... His chest is broad and muscled, marked with scars that tell the story of his career. There’s a particularly nasty one across his ribs that looks recent.

“Hockey?” I ask, tracing it with my fingertip.

“Skate blade. Three weeks ago.” He catches my hand, presses it flat against his chest where I can feel his heart racing. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” I say, and I mean it.

Something shifts in his expression at that, becomes softer and more intense at the same time. “Come here.”

He rolls me over onto his lap, and suddenly I’m straddling him, my dress riding up my thighs, his hands warm on my waist. The position is intimate, electrifying, and when he looks up at me, I feel beautiful in a way I never have before.

“You’re incredible,” he says, his hands moving to trace the line of my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. “When you walked over to me tonight, I thought I was dreaming.”

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