Page 14 of Glass Rose (Where Roses Rot #1)

He bridges the space between us in two fluid steps, standing close enough that his scent floods my senses—the clean bite of soap still clinging to his skin, undercut by something rawer, something unmistakably his own.

His proximity triggers my body’s fight-or-flight response, every instinct screaming retreat, but I don’t back away.

“Yet.” His voice wraps around the word like it’s a physical thing he can taste. “You think we have time for distractions, Doc?”

The shelving unit stands solid against my back. Metal, cold, and unyielding. Gavin, warm and too close.

“Is that what I’d be?” My voice emerges steadier than I feel. “A distraction?”

“Everything’s a distraction when survival’s the goal.” His hand rises, hovering near my face without touching. “But some distractions might be worth the risk.”

I swallow hard. “That’s not very tactical of you.”

“No.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “It’s not.”

His fingertips finally make contact, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch is feather-light, creating goosebumps that radiate outward like waves from an epicenter.

Do I affect him just as much?

I reach up, tracing my fingertips along the sharp edge of his jaw. The stubble there scratches against my skin, a delicious friction that sends another current straight through me. His pupils dilate instantly, but he doesn’t move.

Not a flinch, not a breath.

Just watches me with that predatory stillness as my fingers trail down to the column of his throat. His pulse hammers against my touch, fast and urgent.

“You’re staring again.” Gavin’s voice drops an octave, rumbling in his chest. “Thought you’d be bored by now, Doc. Fourteen months of poking and prodding me like a lab rat. You’ve seen it all, haven’t you?”

Heat flares across my cheeks. “I?—”

“Always watching.” He braces one hand on the shelf on the side of my head. “In the lab. In the car. Right now. ”

I tilt my head to maintain eye contact. “Professional curiosity.”

“Try again.”

“Scientific observation.”

“One more try.”

I should push him away. Should duck under his arm and walk.

Should remember that I’m responsible for the scars mapping his body.

“I’m not worth it.” My hands find his chest, his heartbeat quickening beneath my palm.

“Because whatever they turned you into… you’re still more human than I was in that lab. ”

“I don’t see the problem.” His words brush against my skin, his breath warm against my ear. “We both want a monster. But if it’s pity or guilt on your side, I don’t want it.”

“It’s not pity.”

“Your redemption?”

“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intended. “You’re not a fucking symbol, Gavin.”

“Good.” His free hand slides to the nape of my neck, fingers threading through my hair and his thumb caressing the curve of my cheekbone. “Sofia?”

I melt, starved for a connection that isn’t steeped in death. “Yes?”

“May I kiss you?”

My stomach flips like I’m in high school again. But this isn’t some clumsy teenage fumble behind the bleachers. This is Gavin. Dangerous. Damaged. A man who’s survived things that would have broken anyone else. A stranger, so to speak.

And yet…

I nod.

He closes the last few inches slowly, deliberately, giving me time to change my mind. I don’t. His lips meet mine, tentative at first, a question mark rather than an exclamation point. I answer by trailing my hands up his chest .

Then something shifts, breaks open. He frames my face with both hands as he deepens the kiss, tongue tracing the seam of my lips, and I open for him on a gasp, desperate for the taste of something real and sweet.

Possibility. Survival.

Safety.

My fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt like I could scratch his heart out, and he groans in approval, trapping me against the shelving unit. The discomfort of it digging into my back grounds me in this moment, reminds me I’m alive when so many aren’t.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is insane. We barely know each other, the world is ending, we could be interrupted, and I did horrible things, but I don’t care.

I am a monster.

I need this. Need him.

I need to not think for five fucking minutes.

His hands grip my ass, lifting me against him with ease, and I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding against the hard length of him through our clothes.

He really wants me.

“Gavin—”

“Fuck.” His hands squeeze my ass, fingers biting into the soft flesh.

I stiffen, instinctively sucking my belly in. My body must feel softer and fuller than the women he’s used to. Unlike Dr. Cho’s slender frame or the athletic bodies of military women.

He growls against my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I try to focus on the sensation of his mouth, his hands, anything, but these stupid thoughts crawling up my spine .

He pulls back, eyes narrowing. “Your heart rate just spiked. And not in the good way.”

Fuck these enhanced senses of his. I can’t even lie properly. “It’s just—” I gesture vaguely at my body, heat rushing to my face. “I’m not exactly…”

His brow furrows for a moment before understanding dawns. A low chuckle rumbles through his chest, vibrating against mine.

“What?” I look away. “Why are you laughing?”

He lifts me higher against him, and his mouth finds my ear. “Every soft curve of you drives me fucking crazy. You think I don’t want to sink my teeth into every inch of you?”

His words ignite a fire inside me, the heat on my face spreading lower, making my thighs clench around his waist. I’ve never heard anyone talk to me with that raw, unfiltered desire that makes no apologies.

“I want soft. I want warm.” He grinds against me. “I want you wet and desperate underneath me.”

“Really?”

“You know what I’ve been thinking about?” His hand creeps under my shirt, calloused fingers wandering over my waist, my ribs, stopping just below my breast. Waiting. “All those months in that cell, watching you through the glass…”

“You shouldn’t have been thinking anything . I was part of?—”

“I know exactly what you were part of.” His voice hardens, but his touch remains gentle, contradicting his tone. “But that didn’t stop me from wondering how you’d taste.” His thumb brushes over my nipple through my bra. “How you’d sound when you come.”

His admission stuns me. All those months? While I was documenting experiments, watching him through observation windows, he was watching me back? Wanting me. The thought makes me dizzy with a strange, heady power .

“Tell me to stop.”

I shake my head. “Don’t you dare.”

He rolls his hips, his cock rubbing against my clit through our clothes. The pressure and friction are exquisite, not enough but still too much. I whimper, the sound escaping before I can trap it behind my teeth.

“That’s a start,” he says.

I should be embarrassed, the curve of my ass filling his hands and the extra flesh there for him to grip, but the hunger in his eyes burns away any self-consciousness. He’s not just tolerating my body… he’s craving it.

His lips sear a path down my neck, and I arch against him, wanting more, needing—He freezes, his body going rigid, and for a moment, I’m lost in the confusion of desire denied.

“What’s wrong?” I pant.

He rests his forehead on mine, eyes closed. When he opens them again, the hunger there hasn’t diminished, just merely leashed. “Someone’s coming.”

I strain to listen but hear nothing. His enhanced senses again. Damn them.

Before I can respond, he kisses me with devastating tenderness, and somehow it’s more intimate than the dry-humping.

“You’re gorgeous like this…” he murmurs against my mouth, “flushed, wanting, curves pressed against me.” He gives me a harder thrust, grinding his erection against my center one last time. “Unfortunately, we have to stop.”

My body screams in protest, demanding his hands and lips to continue. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

His laugh is dark and promises things that make my insides clench. “Believe me, I’d rather bend you over right here.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Spread those beautiful thighs and taste you until you scream.”

A metallic clang echoes through the warehouse, followed by voices bouncing off the high ceiling. “—should check the southeast corner next. John mentioned—” Dr. Cho.

“We’ve got enough antibiotics to last months, but I’m worried about pain management if—” Marcus, his voice growing closer.

Fuck. I scramble to disentangle myself from Gavin, but he keeps me steady, lowering me to my feet with controlled strength. My legs are like pudding, and I have to grip the shelf behind me to stay upright.

His hands drift from my waist, but not before giving my ass one final, possessive squeeze that makes the feeling linger long after his touch.

“This isn’t over.” He adjusts himself in his pants, the outline of his cock still visible against the fabric. “Not even close.”

I swallow hard, unable to form words as he steps back, putting appropriate distance between us as the footsteps round the corner.

“There you are.” Marcus stops short, eyes darting between us. “John’s been keeping dinner warm for you.”

Dr. Cho appears behind him, her sharp gaze taking in my definitely flushed face and disheveled hair. The corner of her mouth twitches. Busted.

“Let’s get you food,” Gavin says, his voice back to its normal register, though there’s a roughness around the edges that wasn’t there before.

“Yeah. I’m starving.”

“You look it,” Dr. Cho says dryly.