Page 9 of Off-Limits as Puck

“When I saw you across the bar, I forgot how to breathe,” I admit.

“Good thing you figured it out.” His smile is wicked. “I like watching you breathe.”

I laugh. “That’s a terrible pick-up line.”

“Well, I’m terribly attracted to you.” His hands slide down to my hips, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.“I’m terribly gone for a woman whose name I don’t even know.”

“Reed—”

“It’s okay,” he says, reading something in my expression. “Whatever reason you have for not telling me, it’s okay. I just... I want you to know that this isn’t just physical for me. I know we just met, I know this is crazy, but you’re not just some random Vegas hookup.”

The sincerity in his voice almost undoes me. “You don’t feel random to me either.”

“Good.” He stands up with me still in his arms, and I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively. “Because I plan on taking my time with you.”

He turns us around and lays me down on the bed gently, like I might break. Then he’s hovering over me, his weight supported on his forearms, looking down at me with an expression so intense it steals my breath.

“Still sure?” he asks.

Instead of answering with words, I reach up and pull him down to me, kissing him with everything I have. Because I am sure. For the first time in my adult life, I’m acting purely on instinct, on desire, on the simple fact that I want this man, and he wants me back.

And it feels absolutely perfect.

His hands find the zipper of my dress, and I arch into his touch as he slowly, carefully, begins to undress me. Each piece of clothing that comes off is followed by kisses, lingering glances, and touches that make me feel like I’m coming alive for the first time.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin, and I believe him. In this moment, in his arms, I believe every word.

He rakes my breasts with his teeth.

He presses his hard body against mine.

He slides his dick straight into me, and when I moan, he inhales the sound.

When there’s nothing left between us but instinct and reaction, I let my toes curl at the pace he’s keeping. I let myself imagine that we could have something real beyond this immediate attraction. Now I understand why people do reckless things in Vegas. Because this feeling of being completely consumed by another person is worth any consequence.

Reed is nothing like the textbook encounters I’ve had before. This is fire and connection and a desperate need that goes beyond the physical. This is someone really seeing me, and somehow finding me worthy of his attention, his desire, his careful hands and racing heart.

When he moves over me, in me, with me, it’s like everything in my life suddenly makes sense. Like every choice I’ve made, every careful plan, every safe decision has led me to this moment, this man, this feeling of being exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Later, when we’re both breathing hard and tangled together in his expensive hotel sheets, he traces lazy patterns on my skin.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

I could tell him I’m thinking about how this changes everything, how I’ve never felt anything like what just happened between us, how the thought of leaving this hotel room makes my chest tight. Instead, I opt for honesty that’s a little less terrifying.

“I’m thinking I’m really glad my friends made me wear this tiara tonight.”

His laugh rumbles through his chest, and I feel it everywhere we’re touching. “Best accessory choice ever.”

“What are you thinking?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his fingers still moving across my skin. “I’m thinking I don’t want this to end when the sun comes up.”

Neither do I. But saying that out loud feels like too much, too fast, too real for a night that’s supposed to be about being someone I’m not. So instead, I press a kiss to his chest and let myself sink into the warmth of his arms, pushing away thoughts of tomorrow and consequences and the fact that in the morning, we’ll both be back to our real lives.

“Stay,” he murmurs, already half-asleep. “I have to be up early but stay.”

I trace the tattoo on his ribs. It’s some Latin phrase I can’t read in the dark. “Okay.”

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