“Yeah? What about it?”
I don’t answer—afraid my lips will betray me again. A Fleetwood Mac song plays in the background and it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. The silence stretches as he waits for me to answer. My lips part, but no words come. Just this ache, this want, this terrifying hope.
He leans in, tucking my hair behind my ear, and my breath catches.
Oh my God, I’m so nervous.
His lips hover near my ear as he whispers, “You want me to kiss you?”
I nod slowly, even though a part of me is screamingno—the scared part. The part that’s hurt. The part that still remembers everything.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”
My entire body feels like a live wire as I search his face—so open, so steady. Trusting. The piercing blue of his eyes somehow striking, even in the dark. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I want you to kiss me.”
I want it so badly it almost hurts.
His lips curve into the sexiest grin as he cups the back of my head, his thumb brushing across my cheek. Then—with zero hesitation—he crushes his mouth to mine.
He doesn’t kiss me gently.
Oh my God.
It’s like he’s starving.
My lips part on instinct, welcoming the warmth—the taste of mint and Jensen and memory. I melt into him, the storm inside me quieting. No thoughts. No fears. Only this. Only him.
His tongue coaxes mine, and I open further, letting him in.
It’s good.
It’s really, really good.
Too much and not enough, all at the same time.
I moan into his mouth. I don’t mean to. Can’t stop it.
“Fuck, Alley.” He kisses me again, deeper this time. Rougher. Hotter. Like he needs me. Like a man who’s been shipwrecked and I’m dry land.
My fingers curl in his jacket, and a steady pulse builds between my thighs. Heat spreads through me like liquid lightning.
Holy shit. I want more.
He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine. His bottom lip catches between his teeth like it’s taking everything in him not to devour me.
“Jesus,” he mutters, breath ragged. “I can’t keep kissing you or I’m going to fuck you right here in the backseat of this car. That’s where I’m at, Al. So if you’re not ready—don’t ask me to kiss you again unless you want the whole damn thing.”
God.Is there a woman alive who wouldn’t want to hear those words?
“I can wait.” He chuckles—low, rough, addictive. “I’ve gotten good at resisting things that test my willpower. But damn, babe. You test it like nothing else ever has.”
My heart pounds in my ears. My breath’s caught somewhere between my chest and throat.
“Okay,” I whisper, barely audible. “Let’s stop, then. I’m not sure I want that.”
Lies. Of course I want that. My body’s begging for it.
“Yet,” he says.
