Page 43 of My Pucked Up Enemy

She opens her mouth to argue, but then... doesn’t.

I take a step closer, closing the already-small space between us. My hand is still wrapped around hers, my thumb brushing the inside of her wrist. Her pulse is racing. So is mine.

She swallows hard. Doesn’t speak.

My hand trails down her neck, across her jawline. I lean in, slow and deliberate, giving her a chance to pull away.

She doesn’t.

I move before she can change her mind. One step closes the space between us, then another, until she’s pressed against the mirrored wall of the elevator. My hand slides up her side, cupping her cheek, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. Her eyes never leave mine—wide, electric, daring me to do it.

So I kiss her.

Hard. Deep. A claiming. My body fits against hers like muscle to magnet. Her lips part and I take, slow at first, then hungrier. She moans softly into my mouth and I swear I almost lose it right there.

I spin her gently, her back against the wall now, lifting her just enough to feel her legs slide around my hips. It’s heat and need and restraint on a thread.

I'm already hard as a rock, pressed tight against her, and I can feel the exact second she realizes it. Her lips part against mine, breath quickening as her fingers dig into my shoulders, holding me like she doesn’t want to let go.

Then, ding.

The elevator opens to her floor.

We stumble out in a daze, the long hallway stretching ahead of us.

Neither of us says a word. Our fingers brush once, then again. Then I grab her hand. She doesn’t pull away.

At her door, she fumbles with the key card. I crowd her from behind, close enough to feel the heat emanating from her. The lock clicks.

The moment the door swings shut behind us, it ignites.

I push her back against the door, lips crashing onto hers. It’s not polite. It’s not slow. It’s weeks of restraint unraveling in one kiss.

She yanks me closer by the shirt. I lift her like she weighs nothing and sit her on the dresser.

Her legs wrap around me, her hands in my hair. My hands roam, memorizing, gripping, needing.

"Been trying not to think about this since the first time you looked at me like you knew something I didn’t," I whisper against her skin.

She bites her bottom lip and says, “I did. I do.”

I kiss her again, more possessively this time. My hand skims up her sides, molding over the soft swell of her breasts through her shirt. She gasps, arching into me. I trace the outline of her curves, savoring the way she shudders beneath my touch. As I tug gently at the hem of her top, her hands close around my wrists, stopping me.

"Alex... wait," she breathes, eyes heavy, lips swollen. Her voice is trembling, but her grip is firm.

I freeze, my chest heaving, the tension between us stretched like a wire about to snap. I nod once, barely, and step back just enough to catch my breath, but not enough to let her go.

Breathless, flushed, she presses her forehead to mine. "We have to stop."

My jaw clenches. “You sure?”

She nods. “Not because I don’t want to. Because if we go further… there’s no going back.”

I step back, hands still at her waist, breathing hard. “Already getting passed that point, Doc.”

She smiles softly. “I know. But I need to be careful here. So do you.”

I kiss her one last time, slow and deep, then turn and walk out.

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