Page 12

I should be asleep.

I should be anywhere but here, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles are screaming.

But I can’t fucking move. Because she’s under my skin. Because she’s still in my head. Because I don’t know how to stop wanting her.

The way her breath hitched when I leaned in. The way her body shivered under my fingers. The way she was waiting—expecting—needing me to close the space between us.

And I almost did.

I almost lost the last shred of control I had and kissed her right there on that sidewalk.

Instead, I walked away. And now? Now I’m ruined and I know it.

Because I can still feel her. I still want her. And I don’t fucking lose control like this.

Not for anyone. And especially not for a woman who lives to test me.

I press a hand to my forehead, forcing myself to breathe.

Just let it go.

Let. It. Go.

Then my phone vibrates. I glance at the screen.

Kenzie.

My pulse slams. A slow, dark heat coils low in my stomach—dangerous, unstoppable. She’s testing me. Daring me. And she has no idea just how fucking close I am to breaking.

I warned her, but she doesn’t listen. Her address comes up on my screen next. Damn it. I toss my phone onto the passenger seat. Grip the wheel so damn tight my knuckles turn white. Then, before I can think—before I can talk myself out of it—I throw the car into drive. This ends tonight.

I barely remember the journey. One second, I’m gripping the steering wheel, forcing myself to breathe.

The next?

I’m outside her apartment, staring at her door like it personally wronged me.

This is a bad idea. A stupid, reckless, irreversible idea.

The door swings open. Kenzie blinks up at me, completely unbothered. Like she knew I wouldn’t not come when she sent me her address.

Her lips curve. "Took you long enough."

Something dark and molten slides through my veins.

I step in. Close. So close I can feel the warmth radiating off her skin, can see the way her pulse flutters at the base of her throat.

She tilts her chin up, but I don’t miss the way her breath catches.

"You wanted my attention?" Low and dark—a warning and a promise all at once.

Her smirk deepens.

"Seems like I got it."

Damn.

Even now, she’s still pushing. Still looking at me like she’s untouchable. Like she has any clue what I’m about to do to her. My fingers skim up her arm—light, teasing. Just enough to make her breath hitch.

"Tell me, Flight," I murmur, watching her pupils dilate. "Do you have any idea what happens when you push me too far?"

Her breath catches. But she doesn’t back away. Instead, she tilts her chin up. And smirks.

"Why don’t you show me?"

My grip tightens. I snap.

I don’t hesitate. Not this time. Not when she’s looking at me like that—like she wants me to ruin her. Like she’s daring me to.

I don’t think. I just move.

One second, she’s smirking up at me, challenging me. The next, she’s against the wall, breath racing, clutching my shirt like she needs me to hold her up. She doesn’t resist. Doesn’t hesitate. She pulls me in—hard and fast—like she’s just as desperate as I am.

Her body melts into mine as I crush my mouth against hers.

And I’m gone.

She opens for me, breathless, letting me in. Letting me take, explore, claim. Her hands roam—gripping my shoulders, sliding into my hair, pulling. I groan against her mouth, pressing her tighter against the wall, letting her feel exactly what she does to me.

She moans—soft and breathy and fucking perfect. I slide a hand down to her thigh, gripping tight before lifting. She gets the message immediately. Her legs wrap around my waist, locking us together, making it impossible to tell where she ends and I begin.

Fuck.

She’s going to kill me. Her body shifts against mine, needy and restless. I break the kiss, dragging my mouth to her jaw, her throat, the sensitive skin below her ear. I nip, just enough to make her gasp.

She arches, pressing her hips into mine. I groan, my control slipping.

"Still sure about this, Flight?" I murmur against her pulse, letting my teeth scrape lightly.

Her fingers tighten in my hair. "Don’t you dare stop," she breathes.

A dark chuckle rumbles in my chest. "Wasn’t planning on it."

The next few moments are a blur of heat, movement, and desperation.

Clothes?

Gone.

Breathing?

Optional.

The second her clothes hit the floor, I devour her.

My hands roam, sliding over smooth curves, exploring every inch of exposed skin. She’s soft everywhere, but she’s strong too. And fuck, I love that.

I guide her toward the bed, but she surprises me in a move of hers I remember all too well from Denver.

She shoves me. I fall back onto the mattress. But this time, she’s too fast for me to flip us over and take control. She’s on me, straddling my hips, dragging her nails down my chest. I groan, fisting my hands at my sides.

"Careful," I murmur, warning threaded thick in my tone.

Kenzie smirks, leaning down until her lips brush my jaw. "Or what?"

I grip her hips then, flipping us so fast she gasps. Now she’s beneath me, panting, breathless, wide-eyed. I grab her wrists, pinning them above her head, holding her in place.

"Or I stop letting you play."

Her breath hitches. Her thighs tighten around me. Her eyes darken.

"Maybe I don’t want to play anymore."

My restraint snaps. I crash my mouth back onto hers, taking exactly what I need.

Her moan vibrates against my tongue, and I take it deeper—biting, tasting, devouring. Her legs wrap around my waist, hips grinding up, already frantic with need. I drag my hand between us, shove her panties aside, and groan into her mouth when I feel how wet she is. Dripping. Ready. Fuck, she’s soaked.

“You were waiting for this,” I growl into her throat.

“I was,” she gasps. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

That’s all I need.

I tear my jeans open, fist my cock, and drive into her in one deep, brutal stroke that has her gasping beneath me, her back arching, eyes wide and wild. She’s so tight, so fucking warm, I almost lose it right there and then.

“Jesus, Kenz,” I hiss. “You’re perfect.”

Her fingers claw at my back, pulling me closer, deeper. I start to move—slow and rough, then faster, harder, as her hips buck up to meet me. Every sound she makes spurs me on. Every breath, every cry, every choked-out curse as I fuck her like I’m trying to erase the space between us.

What happens next? A blur of tangled sheets. Desperate moans.

A pace that starts slow, teasing—then quickly turns into something else entirely.

Something reckless.

Something raw.

Because this isn’t shy.

This isn’t sweet.

This is two people who pushed too far, for too long, finally breaking.

Her bra is gone. Her legs are shaking. And when I look down, when I see the way her body takes me—tight, slick, clenching with every thrust—I know I’m ruined.

She feels too good. She sounds too good. She ruins me.

And when I finally bring her over the edge—

When I feel her shatter beneath me, around me—

When her whole body locks and she screams my name, breathless and broken, and I follow right after, groaning into her neck as I come hard, buried deep inside her—

I know. I know I’m so completely fucked.

Because this isn’t just sex. This is something else entirely. And I have no idea how to walk away from it.

The room grows silent after.

The only sound is our uneven breaths, slowing in the aftermath. Kenzie is curled against me, her bare skin warm against mine. My touch skims lazily down her back.

I should leave, but my body won’t move. I can’t let go of her skin. My mind won’t let me pretend this didn’t just change everything.

Because for the second time since my divorce—I don’t want to leave. I didn’t want to in Denver. I don’t want to now. I stare at the ceiling, trying to wrap my head around what just happened.

It wasn’t just the sex—though, fuck, the sex was unreal. It was everything leading up to it. The push. The pull. The fucking challenge in her eyes when she dared me to finally take her.

And the way she fell apart in my arms like she’d been waiting for this just as long as I had.

This was never supposed to happen.

Not like this.

Not with her.

Fuck.

Kenzie shifts slightly, pressing closer, her face tucked into my chest. My pulse kicks up. Because she’s still here too.

She hasn’t moved. She hasn’t bolted.

I should take that as a good thing. But instead? It just makes the weight in my chest heavier.

Because now? Now there’s no pretending this didn’t mean something. No pretending this was just a game.

I tighten my grip on her waist, my fingers flexing slightly, unsure if I’m pulling her closer or bracing myself to let her go.

Her breathing is slow. Even. She’s asleep. And somehow, that feels more intimate than anything we just did.

What the hell is she doing to me?

I exhale, forcing myself to relax. I’ll deal with this in the morning.

Right now? Right now, I’m just going to let myself have this.

Because deep down, I already know—

I just crossed a line I can’t come back from.