Page 44 of Puck You Very Much

It is said that when two people argue, the third wins. Well, she would end up the third, because there was a simple solution for giving fans a better image of Jack and Dax—literally taking a picture of them! Dax wouldn’t like it, but so what? The man was impossible to please!

You’d be the last woman on Earth I’d want to take to bed!

Asshole.

Not that she wanted to be first, but being, say, second-to-last would be nice.

She laid the coat in front of his door and slipped silently into her room, having no desire for another confrontation. Tomorrow she would apologize to him. Her conscience was gnawing at her and she couldn’t live with feelings of guilt towards an idiot.

Did he saymy father was addicted to gamblingandwe regularly had to drag him home from the casino?

She swallowed. She had never thought about the fact that so little was known about Dax’s past. But now she understood. He didn’t want people to judge him before they knew him—not more than they already did.

Was he afraid that she would do that now? Judge him?

God, he had been so incredibly angry. Anger had pulsed against her lips during the kiss, along with destructive desire and…more. She couldn’t say what it was, just…more.

A shiver ran through her body and, annoyed with herself, she took off her clothes and got into the shower. She wanted to wash his touch from her skin and the memory along with it. She had to forget it—what had happened. She had to forget her wish he would never stop kissing her.

Yes. Forget. Apologize. Forget again. Prepare a photo shoot. That was the plan.

Lucy dreamed of Dax’s hands on her body.

His fingers were in her hair, on her stomach, and between her legs. His lips on her breasts. His teeth nibbling her earlobe. She dreamed she was writhing beneath his heavy body, her hands pinned to the mattress until she melted with pleasure.

She dreamed that she wanted to ask him to stop, because she knew that was the correct thing to do. And yet with every moan and every sigh, she had to admit how much power he had over her. How dependent she was on him. She had to admit that, in reality, she was completely at his mercy and he could control her as he pleased, not the other way around.

Every time she opened her mouth in the dream, he sealed it with his. And every time she felt his greedy gaze on her and his hot breath on her thighs, any objection vanished from her lips. She was unable to say no.

She woke up sweaty and unsatisfied, needing to take another shower. But the memories wouldn’t rinse off. His touch was burned into her skin, like a tattoo.

She skipped breakfast and instead used the time to come up with a battle plan. When she finally boarded the Hawks’ private jet two hours later, she had practiced an indifferent expression and prepared her words. She had even practiced keeping her voice from trembling.

With her heart fluttering, she walked down the narrow aisle, searched for a dark head, and found him in one of the middle seats. Alone.

Dax returned her gaze as if he’d been looking for her, too.

His eyes were unyielding but free of judgment.

He no longer appeared angry. No longer frustrated. He was a blank canvas. At that moment, she hated him for being so good at hiding his emotions, because she felt like her expression was screaming her emotions at him.

But it didn’t matter. Normality—that was her goal.

So she walked down the aisle with wobbly knees and stopped in front of him; spoke before she lost her courage and before he could confuse her with one of his looks.

“I’m sorry.” It was merely a whisper, barely audible to her ears, but she knew he heard her. She recognized it in his dark expression as he looked at her. “I am truly and sincerely sorry. I went…too far. You were right.”

He didn’t reply, just continued to stare at her face. But it was okay, he didn’t have to answer her.

“That’s all,” she whispered, nodding firmly. She wanted to continue down the narrow aisle, but his hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist.

Electrical impulses jumped from his skin to hers, coursing through her blood, and causing her heart to skip a beat. But she didn’t reveal anything, didn’t flinch like she wanted to, just turned back to him.

“I did too. And…I am too,” he murmured, pressing his thumb against the sensitive area inside her wrist. As if he had to emphasize his words.

She swallowed, ignoring the goosebumps climbing up her arm. “I know.”

She truly did. He hadn’t been quite himself and neither had she. It had been an accident. A glitch in the system.

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