Page 115 of Finding Denver

I flick off the bathroom light, give him an exaggerated thumbs up, and breeze by him.

I lose breath when he seizes my wrist and pulls me back into the bathroom. The door slams closed, and he presses my back into it, his hands resting on either side of my head as he locks eyes with me. The room is dark, and thick, sweet tension radiates in the small space between us. I forget sometimes how tall he is, how broad, how strong. His muscles strain against his shirt as he breathes quickly, never once breaking eye contact.

“You’re not having sex with Ronan.”

I lift my chin. “And why is that?”

“Because I don’t want to have to kill my best friend for fucking touching you.”

My heart hammers, my cheeks flood with heat, and I’ve forgotten how to breathe with him this close. He slides onehand down the door, the sound loud in the quiet of the room. His palm is cool as he cups my neck, his thumb running across my jaw.

“You said one night, so why are you trying to make me jealous?” His eyes are blue flame, heat and passion and something I’m too afraid to give a name to. My body thrums with delight at his touch, and if I could purr, I would.

He’s right. I’m being unfair. I set the rules, and he has every right to date whoever he wants to. I’m the one walking away, not him.

“Tell me it’s more,” he says quietly. He looks like he’s being held back by an invisible force, his body so close to mine he could crush me against the door if he wanted to. “Tell me you’re mine until you leave.”

I shouldn’t speak. Shouldn’t say the words on my mind. Shouldn’t drop to my knees and beg him for not just one night or two, but every night between now and forever.

Can I do this? Can I allow myself a taste of something I can never devour? It’s dangerous, and I’ll end up hurt.

But pain and I have always been the best of friends.

“I’m yours.”

The tension, his restraint, my control—they all snap. He’s fast, and the air I pull into my lungs is warm as his lips meet mine.

No time to doubt, no room for his brother or my husband. Just the sliver of space between us that I close by pressing my body to his. He kisses me, and I kiss him, and the foolishness of it all ebbs away. I slide my palms up his chest and he holds my face and devours me. The kiss is frantic from both our sides, months of dancing around who we are crumbling into this singular moment.

His tongue grazes mine, a silent request for more, and Iallow it. His lips are soft, his body solid and strong, keeping me in place. My pulse is a throb throughout my body, my cheeks heated by him and what could happen, what should happen, what I want to happen?—

He pulls his lips from mine, our breath mingling, our faces still close. My galloping heart starts to slow, the warmth of his body creeping over mine as our eyes remain locked.

“Come home with me,” he whispers against my lips. “The house is empty. It’ll be just us.”

My heart is beating too hard, too fast, but I nod. He leans forward to kiss me again and I place my finger on his lips. “If you let Esme anywhere near you, I’ll bury her in the garden.”

He grins.

I don’t have time to scowl before he kisses me again. His palms glide up the back of my sweater, heated skin against heated skin, and his hardness, thick and solid, presses into my stomach. I run my fingers through his hair, the passion growing too fast, a flame burst to life with nothing to stop it from spreading.

“Do we have to wait?” I whisper, and he shakes his head. My hands are immediately on his belt, unbuckling, desperate to get to him, to?—

Someone knocks on the door.

“Denver, are you in there?” Ronan asks.

I bite back a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll be one minute.”

Colt frowns and mouths, ‘One minute?’

I smother a laugh. “I won’t be long, Ronan.”

“… Or I could come in?” Ronan says.

I frown. “What?”

“Do you feel it too?”