God, he was beautiful.
And she was breaking.
Chase reached up, his fingers tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, his touch unbearably gentle.
"I meant it," he murmured, his voice gravelly and raw.
"Stay with me, Savannah."
Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she squeezed them shut, willing them away.
She couldn’t do this.
She couldn’t.
Her throat tightened, the ache so sharp it stole her breath.
"Chase…"
His brows furrowed.
Andhe knew.
He knew she wasn’t going to give him the answer he wanted.
He knew she was still planning to walk away.
His jaw tightened, his hand flexing against her hip, his body going rigid for a fraction of a second—
But he didn’t argue.
Didn’t beg.
Didn’t demand.
Instead—he kissed her.
And it was different.
It wasn’t teasing.
It wasn’t playful.
It wasn’t rushed or frantic or driven by desperate need.
This was slow.
Unyielding.
A kiss meant to destroy her.
A kiss meant to break her.
His hands slid over her back, pulling her closer, closer, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
She kissed him back just as fiercely, poured everything into it—every unspoken word, every aching plea, every bit of love she was too scared to say aloud.
But no matter how hard she tried,
