Her gaze shifted, the raw vulnerability in it enough to crack me wide open. Slowly, she shook her head, her words barely a whisper. “I’m afraid of me. Of what I want…”
My chest tightened as my heart thudded back to life. “And what do you want, Frankie? Tell me.”
“I can’t say it. This…” She gestured between us, her hand trembling as it hovered in the air, unsure. “It’s not okay. We’re not allowed to…” She couldn’t even finish it. Couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
I took a step forward, slow and measured, watching her closely. This time, she didn’t move, her grip tightening on the handlebars of her bike, as if holding on to it for dear life. “Have you always done what you’re told?” I asked, searching her eyes for any trace of defiance. I leaned in just enough for her to feel my breath on her ear. “Are you a good girl?”
Her body stiffened, and I felt the tension in her, the barely contained fire beneath the surface. I let my teeth graze the soft curve of her earlobe, barely enough to leave a mark, but enough to remind her what she was trying to deny.
“You want this,” I whispered, my lips brushing her skin, my voice dropping lower. “But if you tell me to stop right now, we’ll pretend this never happened.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, her long lashes brushing her cheeks, and for a moment, I just watched her, caught between the desire in her and the struggle to keep control. I wanted to kiss each one of those lashes, to taste every inch of her beauty.
“We can’t,” she breathed, the words barely escaping her lips.
Instantly, I pulled back, the weight of her words hitting me like a sucker punch. I was ready to walk away, to leave her to her night, to bury everything I’d been feeling under the layers of my role as her player. To shove it all back into the damn box in my head.
And then, she said it. “Not here.”
I didn’t think I’d heard her right at first. My heart raced, trying to process what she’d just said. Then, as if the universe had finally given me permission, a grin tugged at one side of my mouth. Without thinking, I reached for her bike, and when I took it from her, she didn’t resist. She just watched me, her eyes flickering with something unspoken.
I carefully placed it in my trunk and opened the passenger door for her, my hands lingering on the handle longer than necessary.
She broke the silence, curious. “I didn’t expect chivalry from you, Valentine.”
Helping her into the car, I leaned in, my face just inches from hers. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
The ride was thick with anticipation, the quiet between us buzzing with something neither of us was willing to acknowledge. A few minutes later, we pulled up to her house. I cut the engine, waiting for her to speak, but she didn’t. She just sat there, staring straight ahead, as if the moment was too big for either of us to step into fully.
I didn’t want to force it, but I was done pretending like I could walk away. She knew it. I knew it. And whatever came next, it was going to change everything.
When she didn’t speak, I glanced sideways at her. “You should get inside. You’ve got to be freezing right now.”
She hadn’t even bothered to change after our shower.
She met my eyes briefly, nodded once, and then slid out of the car, her movements deliberate and almost… distant.
I reached for the bike, but she’d already pulled it out and was heading for the front steps. I shut the trunk and followed her, my knee protesting with every step, the ache from practice seeping through the numbness I’d been trying to ignore. I was supposed to be at home, icing it, resting, but that was the last thing I wanted to do right now.
“Come in,” she called over her shoulder. “We need to talk.”
Those words—we need to talk—never meant anything good. But with her, I was powerless. I would follow her anywhere, even if it meant stepping off a cliff.
She rounded the side of the house, securing her bike, before leading me inside. The house looked the same as the last time I was here, but everything felt different now. I followed her inside and took the same seat on the couch where we had sat so casually together before. My gaze flickered to the staircase that led to the hallway outside her bedroom.
Frankie spared me a brief glance before her voice softened, though there was an edge to it. “I’m going to change into some dry clothes. Stay down here. We really do need to talk.”
She disappeared upstairs, and I was left pacing the small area in front of the landing, the tension in my shoulders like a storm ready to break. My hands clenched at my sides, my chest tight. I knew exactly what she was going to say. I had misheard her out on the street—she hadn’t meant it.She hadn’t meant what I’d hoped she meant. She’d just been caught up in the moment. The kiss, the heat, everything—it was a mistake. One that couldn’t happen again.
But she was wrong.
This—us—wasn’t a mistake. Not by a long shot. It made sense in ways that nothing else in my life had in years. I could see it in the way she looked at me, in the way her body responded when we were close. She couldn’t keep running from me. I wouldn’t let her.
Dammit, I felt like a fucking psychopath.
But it didn’t change the truth. We were tangled in something neither of us could ignore, and no matter how much she tried to push me away, I knew she felt it too.
I took the steps two at a time, ignoring the creaks of the old house beneath my feet. She’d hear me coming, and if she wanted to stop me, she could. If she said no, I’d walk out and go home, do my best to bury the taste of her from my memory. If that was even possible.
