Page 70 of Risking the Pucking Defense
“Don’t,” she whispers. “Please.”
I rush forward, hating everything about her body language, the defeated way her shoulders curl in, making herself look smaller than ever.
“Hey,” I say, reaching out and twisting our fingers together before tilting her chin up with my other hand. My eyes search hers, desperate to read all her well-hidden secrets. “I’m right here. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You want to sit and recite High School Musical songs? We can do that. You want to play Eye Spy? We can do that too.”
A smile twitches at her lips, and internally, I give myself a high five for dragging her from wherever her head went just now.
“We’re trapped in a metal box,” she points out.
“Yeah, I get your point. Eye Spy would be shit.”
She puffs out a laugh, her head tilting to the side, gazing up at me with emotions I can’t decipher dancing in her eyes.
All I want to do is lean in and brush my lips against hers, test the waters, see if she’s as interested as I’m convincing myself she is. But I made her a promise a few minutes ago.
“Hails, would you—”
A loud crackle fills the air and she spins around, leaning closer to what I assume is a small speaker.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
Nothing.
She jabs her finger against the alarm button again, and then again and again. But nothing more happens.
“Shit,” she hisses, her shoulders dropping again.
Unable to stop myself, I reach out and do exactly what I was imagining earlier: I let my knuckles brush down the ridges of her spine, all the way until I hit the fabric resting just above her ass.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from groaning at how soft her skin is, just like I knew it would be.
“Hayden,” she whispers, risking a glance over her shoulder.
“You were the most beautiful woman in the room tonight. Did you know that?”
She shakes her head. Her movement is so slight that I’d miss it if I weren’t so close.
“By a fucking mile. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
A rush of air spills from her lungs as my hand curls around her waist.
“All I could think about were the kind of excuses I could make to come and talk to you.”
“You don’t need an excuse to talk to me.”
“I do, though, because we both know that I don’t want to talk about work.”
I step closer until her ass brushes my crotch.
“Work is the last thing I want to talk about when I’m with you.”
“What did you want to talk about?” Her voice is all breathy. She might be fighting to retain control, but it’s a losing battle.
“You,” I state as I lean forward and press my lips against her bare shoulder.
Her breath catches, and her hand lands on top of mine around her waist.
This time, when a groan threatens, I don’t try to smother it. I let it spill free, letting her hear exactly what she does to me.
