Page 67 of Risking the Pucking Defense

“This dress is almost as sinful as your swimsuit, Hails.”

My chest heaves so violently that there’s no chance he’ll miss it.

I swallow, desperately trying to get my brain to function enough to form words.

“I missed you this week. You’ve been there, I’ve seen you floating around. But I haven’t really seen you.”

Unable to stop myself, I nod, understanding what he means.

I shudder when he drags his knuckles up my bare arm, goose bumps racing over every inch of me.

“Did you just admit to missing me, too?” he asks, his voice so soft I’d probably miss it if he weren’t so close.

“I…um…it’s been a big week,” I force out. “I-I’ve been thinking about you and⁠—”

“Yeah?” he says, the most incredible smile spreading across his face. “Because I’ve been thinking about you, too. About waking up with you that morning, about that little swimsuit and everything it did and didn’t hide from me, what you may or may not be wearing under this dress.”

Oh my fucking god.

My heart races so fast I swear I’m about to pass out.

With every word he says, he moves a little closer until we’re dangerously close, his whiskey-scented breath rushing over my face.

His hand lifts higher before the burning heat of his palm wraps around the side of my neck.

Suddenly, everything stops. And I don’t just mean my heart and time as Hayden closes the final inch between us. I literally mean everything.

“Shit,” he curses, wrapping his arm around me, pinning me to his solid body as the elevator jolts to an abrupt stop. We freeze, waiting to see if we’re about to plummet to our deaths.

When a couple of seconds pass and nothing happens, he releases me and takes a step back.

Coldness rushes down my body, and I wrap my arms around myself to try to abate it.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks, looking around as if the metal walls of this small box will provide him with an answer.

“I think that was the elevator stopping,” I say, stating the obvious.

“Yeah,” he mutters, stepping up to the control panel. He pushes his finger into the button for floor nine that’s already lit up, but nothing happens. “Uh…” Next, he presses the button for the ground floor, which does nothing, then he presses others at random.

“I think the one you want is the one with the little alarm on it,” I point out.

He spins around, and the second his eyes find mine, I stumble back. The intensity burning within them is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.

“Or maybe that’s the last one I want to press,” he says, his voice rougher than before, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hit me right in the clit.

“Hayden,” I warn.

His smile grows, excitement dancing in his eyes.

“Just so you know, if I could request someone to be stuck in an elevator with, it would be you. And serious bonus points for you wearing that dress too.”

20

HAYDEN

When someone dies, everyone tells you that they’re still there, that they’re looking down on you and cheering you on. Over the past few weeks, I’ve really wanted to believe that’s true. But right here, right now, I know that Rylee isn’t just looking down on me.

She set this whole thing up.