A shiver ripples through me.
Not fear.
A sense that something ancient has started moving, and we are already too deep to turn back.
“Alright,” I say.“Then you’d better pray we’re not already too late.”
Legend looks toward the rolling hills, his silhouette carved sharp against the Kentucky moonlight.
He looks like a man preparing for war.
Because we are.
Legend doesn’t move when I step closer.Doesn’t breathe.His eyes track me the same way they track danger, slow, deliberate, hungry.I feel the shift in the air before it happens, that familiar pull in my belly, dark and hot as good bourbon.
“We’re really doing this?”he asks quietly.“Bringing the devil’s daughter back into this club?”
“That’s not what I’m thinking about right now,” I murmur.The truth, but I also don’t need him questioning my motives.Legend’s big and gratingly sexy.But not an ounce of him is dumb.
He lifts one eyebrow.“No?”
“No.”I take one more step until my breasts brush his cut.“Right now, I’m thinking about how you didn’t deny caring about her.And how you didn’t deny being scared.”
Legend huffs a laugh, rough and humorless.“I don’t get scared.”
“Liar.”
“What are you saying?Are you saying that’s what you need to forgive me?”
“Yeah, some honesty would be nice.”I laugh.
“Soph… Princess.There’ll always be shit I can’t share… the club…”
“Shut up, already,” I say, grinding against him.
That’s when he grabs my hips, hard enough to bruise, gentle enough to ask permission, and shoves me back against the wall of the Fire Pit.My breath leaves my body on a gasp.
“Soph…” His forehead presses to mine.“You’re playing with a loaded gun.”
“I carry one,” I whisper.“Yours ain’t the one I’m afraid of.It’s the one I miss.”
He drags a thumb along my bottom lip, slow, the way a man studies the fuse on a stick of dynamite.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he says.
“How?”I challenge.
“Like you dare me.”
I smile up at him, heat curling through my spine.“Maybe I do.”
That’s all it takes.
He kisses me.Like he’s been dying to get his hands on me all month.
Not a polite kiss.Not a careful one.
It’s desperate and rough and full of everything I’ve been denying myself, since the moment he put that ring on my finger but brought the other woman home.
