Page 71 of Revenge Puck

You might be sweet to kiss and fun to fuck, but I will not be catching feelings for you.And I sure as shit won’t be falling in love.

She sits up on the bed, eyes trailing over my chest and stomach when I stand. Her tongue flicks out over her lower lip, and she bites down like she’s eyeing up a medium rare steak on a plate as I step between her knees, hands bracing on either side of her hips.

Her hands slide up my chest, exploring, fingers tracing the lines of muscle like she’s mapping me out, nails trailing along my abs.

“Good,” she whispers into the dark. “Because I can’t afford a relationship with anyone at work. It would cost me my job.”

The little liar is fibbing.

I’ve already determined that one of Juliette’s tells is avoiding eye contact, and that’s what she’s doing now.

“So, we’re just going to have fun?” My brows go up, daring her to agree with me.

Juliette falters. Gives me a tentative nod. “Just fun.”

My mouth curves. “Perfect.”

I lean down and kiss her like I don’t already know I’m playing a longer game. One I intend to win.

Her fingers hook into the waistband of my pants and tug me closer, the motion so bold it almost makes me smile against her mouth as she shoves my pants down my hips.

Juliette’s eyes drop to the front of my boxers, and she doesn’t try to hide it when she locks on my straining dick as I pull her joggers over her hips. Over her knees, down her legs.

Her skin is illuminated in silver and shadow, and I swear I’ve never seen anything more fucking distracting in the center of my bed in my entire goddamn life.

Shiny satin hair spills across my pillow. Juliette’s smooth skin and parted legs. And I ache to see what’s beneath that tiny strip of lace in the sweet center.

What her tits look like without a bra.

My hands drag up her legs, spreading her wider as I settle between her thighs, lowering myself over her, mouth already greedy.

Taste her skin.

Fuck her.

THIRTEEN

JULIETTE

Aaron Bishop is as big of a liar as I am.

And if he keeps looking down at me like this, I’m going to climax before his dick is even inside me.

It’s big.

Impossible not to notice the thick bulge in his boxers as he leans over me, this time with no hesitation. His hands slide to my back, fingers finding the clasp of my bra with surprising ease. A quiet pop. One smooth motion. He doesn’t rush it. He draws the straps down my arms slowly, deliberately, like he wants to see every second of it—like he wants to watch me react.

Of course, I let him.

My bra hits the floor.

His gaze drags over me, unhurried. One hand settles at my hip, thumb brushing idle circles against my skin before his fingertips skim higher, barely grazing the underside of my breast.

My back arches automatically into his hand, and I hate how easily he’s undoing me.

“So pretty,” he tells me a second time, cupping one of them. “I can’t wait to bury my face in these.”

I cover my face with one hand. “Don’t say that.”