Thunder echoes in the distance, and the trees thrash, but I eye the door handle, reaching for it, and open the door.
“Wait, Lil. No!”
I fling open the door and cut off anything more he can add to that sentence. There’s no way I can stay in this truck a second longer. The rain assaults me like a wall when I hit the ground, the cold pelting my skin. In only a couple of steps, Noah’s door slams shut, and he yells after me again.
My boots crunch as I stomp toward the tree line, my black dress sticking to body. My heart pounds as I argue with myself.
Stop, you’re acting like a child.
Keeping going, he hurt you.
“Lily!” he calls after me.
I don’t stop.
The headlights throw my shadow long in front of me, fractured by the sheets of rain. I keep walking—away from him, from the argument, from whatever this is turning into.
His footsteps squish in the wet earth behind me.
“Please don’t walk away! Not today,” he shouts, voice sharp against the wind.
I spin around, breath coming in short, furious bursts. “Is that a rule you have? Did you bend because you wanted to fix me? Because that’s who you are.”
He stops a few feet from me, the rain dripping from his hair, jaw clenched tight. There’s a war of emotion in his eyes. Anger, yes, but something else simmering. I shudder.
“No.” He steps closer, and his breath vaporizes between us.
My breath mixes with his and everything in me stills. I want to turn and run. I want to scream. Hell, I want to kiss him and hit him, but also fall apart in his arms.
I should be there for him. She told me I’d need to be. That he’d take this to heart, be eaten away with guilt. Question who he is.
“You can’t save everyone, Noah. I don’t need you to save me. Trust me. I’m not worth it.”
I wince when he looks at me like it hurts to breathe. Then … he’s there. Hands on my face. Mouth on mine like it’s the only way he knows how to shut me up or ease the emotion from today.
I don’t resist. I fold into him, my fists reaching out to fist his soaked suit. My fingertips graze his tie.
He pulls away. “I need you,” he says.
There’s a pleading in his tone and etched in his expression. He’s always kept himself restrained so I could feel comfortable, but now I see it. He needs me, and I want to give.
“We need to go.”
I shake my head, tilting it toward the massive oak just inside the tree line. His eyes widen, but I don’t let him think about it. I pull at him.
He smiles, but it hardens quickly as lust seeps in and blows out his pupils.
I step into him. The scent of rain and earthy dirt wafts from his tense body, and my heart squeezes realizing the stench of the day is clinging to him. Despite the cold, I’m burning. I want to be there for him, and I don’t think talking is going to solve anything.
“You tell me to take from you all the time, Noah. Well, this time I want you to take from me. Don’t be gentle.” Then, reminiscing about our first kiss on Thanksgiving, I turn and run.
As my boots leave the gravel and slosh through the water-logged grass, I glance over my shoulder. A zing slithers up my spine as Noah prowls to follow. He doesn’t run—he strides after me with something primal unleashed across his face, and anticipation quickens my steps behind the oak tree.
Dress plastered to me, the cold air tickles to the point of goose bumps, but I press myself behind the tree, and when he reaches me, his hands clench into fists. I tug my bottom lip between my teeth.
“Lily …” he groans.
“Don’t be gentle,” I remind him.
