Page 76 of Pucking Daddy

I hesitate for a second, suspicious of what that might mean.

Then I slip my hand through his arm.

As we walk toward the car, my foot catches slightly, and I let out a surprised laugh as I stumble into him.

He tightens his grip instantly, his hand coming to my waist to steady me.

“Yeah,” he says dryly. “Maybe a little.”

We stand in front of the car for a moment, the city stretching out around us.

“This was nice,” I say finally.

“I thought it was very nice.”

I glance at him. “Very nice.”

There’s a beat. The kind that stretches just a little too long.

I’m still close. Closer than I need to be. My hand still curled around his arm, his hand still firm at my waist.

My fingers slide from his arm to the front of his jacket, curling lightly into the fabric. I can feel the warmth of him through it. The steady rise and fall of his chest.

My heart starts beating faster.

The rational part of my brain must be offline, because I act on instinct.

I push up on my toes and lean in, aiming for his mouth.

His hand comes up, catching my wrist gently before I can close the last inch between us.

“Hey,” he says, low and steady.

I blink, confused for a second, still halfway leaning into him.

“What?” I ask, like a complete idiot.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

I freeze. “Oh.”

He clears his throat. “It wasn’t even a date, Zara.”

His words hit like a cold shower, sobering me instantly.

Not too long ago, he had me up against a wall on media day. Today, he won’t even kiss me.

I guess a kiss after a romantic dinner means something—something real—while what happened at the arena was just another hookup to him.

God. What did I just do?

On the drive back, neither of us speaks, and we exchange an awkward goodnight when we reach the apartment.

I lie awake for a while after that, replaying just how stupid I was.

14

JAXON