Page 20 of Puck Prince

“You could have told me there was a key!”

“Maybe I would have, if you hadn’t wrapped your legs around me as soon as I rescued you.”

“You kissed me!” She jabs an accusatory finger in my chest.

“Legs. Wrapped. Around. Me,” I remind her, punctuating each word with a jab to her shoulder.

“I was trying not to fall to my death.”

“A death only possible because you closed the door with your bare ass after dirty talking through the walls.” I could play this blame game all day long. This was not my fault.

“You could have told me who you were.” Her voice is lower now.

“So you could leave and tell everyone what we did? Sorry, guess I should’ve autographed your tit and taken a picture with you as proof.”

“You should’ve told me so I would’ve known to never, ever fuck you.”

That one stings. I don’t know why. “Well, if I’d known who you were, I wouldn’t have fucked you, either.”

From the way she blinks, I can tell my words sting, too.

She’s quiet for a moment. The air is still sizzling, echoing with the things we’ve shouted at each other. But the more they fade, the more I deflate.

After a beat, she asks, “Now what?”

I chew on the answer for a second. “We make a pact. Whatever happened that night—whoever’s fault it is?—”

“Yours.”

I narrow my eyes. “We forget it happened. We never speak of it again.”

“Perfect.”

“I don’t want to— I can’t afford to fuck up my reputation. This season is crucial for my career.” I can’t tell her why. It also doesn’t matter. “And I doubt you want to ruin your career, either.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“So, that’s that. I’ll never mention that I’ve met you before.”

“And I won’t mention that you live next to my cousin.”

She looks like she’s ready to leave, and I should let her, but I open my mouth again.

“And I’ll never mention that you spend lonely Friday nights with your vibrator.”

Her jaw clenches. “Just like I’ll keep to myself that a woman has to be locked out of her house and close to death before she’ll sleep with you.”

I step closer. “No one will ever know that you kiss with your eyes open.”

“Or that you bite your lip when you’re close to getting off.” Her voice is softer now. Sultry, almost.

“It’ll be our little secret that, when you come, you gush like Niagara Falls.”

“I’ll take it to my grave that you’re actually kind of sweet when you’re at a girl’s mercy.” She angles her head up to mine, lips slightly parted.

“My lips are sealed that I make mistakes when I’m being seduced.” My voice is a heated rasp as I look down at her.

How many mistakes can I make before getting caught?

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