Page 67 of Dirty As Puck
The words settle in my chest, heavy and unsteady. He’s not ready to talk, not ready to share whatever storm he’s caught in. But the tremor in his tone tells me that he’s terrified and holding me is the only relief he’ll let himself take.
So, I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder. I won’t push.
I set my glass aside, my pulse already racing though nothing’s happened yet. His silence, his need, presses heavier than any words he could give me. I breathe in deep, steadying myself.
“I won’t push…” I whisper.
Something shifts in Kai’s expression, like a lock finally clicking open. His chest rises sharply, and when his eyes meet mine, I see the raw ache he never lets anyone glimpse.
Without a word, he leans in, brushing his lips over mine so gently it makes my heart twist.
This isn’t the fiery and intense heat that usually sparks between us. His mouth moves against mine as if he’s memorizing the shape of me, every angle and curve. I sink into it, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, feeling the hammer of his heart beneath my palm.
“Kai…” My voice cracks when he deepens the kiss. It’s slow but certain, coaxing rather than possessive. Heat unfurls low in my stomach, but it’s tangled with something softer, something that makes my chest ache.
He pulls back just far enough to search my face. “Let me have this,” he murmurs, voice rough and pleading.
I can’t say no. Not when he looks like I’m the only thing holding him together.
We move toward the bed almost without thought, like our bodies know the way before our minds catch up. He lays me back carefully, as though I might break, his hands skimming over me reverently.
He takes his time with every touch, and I can tell he’s not in a hurry. His hands cup my cheek while the other slides down my waist.
When his mouth trails down my throat, I gasp, arching into him. It’s not frantic or rushed. Kai is savoring every taste of me. His lips linger at my collarbone, his hands sliding beneath my shirt that steals my breath. He strips away every item of clothing on me, piece by piece, never rushing and never looking away from me.
The air feels electric against my bare skin, but it’s the desire in his eyes that leaves me undone. He looks at me like I’m something sacred, something he doesn’t deserve but can’t stop reaching for.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and I feel every word on my skin.
I tremble beneath him, not from nerves, but from the weight of what he’s giving me and this quiet, vulnerable need I feel. When his hands explore my lower body, caressing my thighs, it’s not just heat sparking through my veins, it’s raw need that’s pulling me deeper into him.
I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him closer, and the world outside fades. There’s only the slow burn of his touch, the steady rhythm of his body aligning with mine.
We’re naked now, our skin grinding against each other, heat travelling from him to me.
When he finally thrust into me, he’s slow and gentle with it, making me feel every inch of him inside me.
My breath hitches. “Kai…”
He presses his forehead to mine, his movements slow and controlled, as if he’s terrified of shattering me. Each thrust feels like a vow, unspoken but written into my skin. I cling to him, my nails biting his shoulders, my heart wide open for this man.
The heat builds gradually, waves of pleasure rising higher with every slow grind of his hips. But more than the fire, it’s the connection that overwhelms me the most. The way he holds me like I’m both his anchor and strength.
I moan his name when the climax finally overcomes me, a trembling release that feels more like surrender than explosion. He follows moments later, shuddering against me, burying his face in my neck like he’s afraid to let go.
When the world steadies again, he doesn’t move away. He stays wrapped around me, holding me as though any distance from me might destroy him. His breath is uneven, and I feel his heart still racing, but his grip is sure and unrelenting.
I stroke his hair, my chest so full it almost hurts. I’ve gotten passion before, even heat before. But this is something else entirely. This is Kai giving me his fear, his hunger, his need for something solid in a life that’s falling apart.
And I give him mine in return, wordlessly promising that I’m not going anywhere.
His chest rises and falls against mine, steady now, like the storm inside him has finally eased. The room smells like sweat and cheap wine and us, warm and heavy in the dim light. He holds me so tightly I can barely breathe, but I don’t dare move. I don’t want to.
“I can’t lose you,” he whispers into my hair. His voice is rough, ragged, like the words scraped their way out of him.
My heart catches. For a moment I don’t even know how to breathe or respond to that. He doesn’t say why. He doesn’t explain what he’s afraid of, what shadow is haunting him. But the desperation in his tone tells me enough and I this isn’t just about desire, or even affection. It’s about survival.
I squeeze him back, burying my face against his throat. “You won’t,” I murmur, though I know the promise is bigger than me, bigger than either of us can offer. Still, I mean it. With every fragile, aching part of me, I mean it.
