“I should apologize too,” I said. “For the way I acted the other day. I was late to the tasting, and... I probably wasn’t the nicest.”
Mylo glanced up, his cheeks flushing briefly. “And... uh, you don’t have to apologize for the bourbon thing either. I mean, you already have. I think. Although maybe next time, try doing something that doesn’t need an apology?” His eyes widened. “I’m not saying there would be a next time or that there should be, or that I expect it—” He groaned. “Sorry.”
The corner of my mouth twitched before I could stop it. “Fair point.”
He huffed a small laugh, clearly surprised by his own words—clearly, that wasn’t part of the practiced speech. And something about that sound, about how brave he was being... and kind of calling me out—it undid me.
The tension between us buzzed, sharp and electric, and I couldn’t help it... or maybe I didn’t want to this time. I took a step closer; it felt like some invisible force had yanked me forward. Mylo noticed—of course he noticed—and his breath hitched.
“What’s with the hot-and-cold thing?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “One minute you’re distant, and now... now you’re—” He gestured vaguely with his hand.
He didn’t finish the sentence, and he didn’t back away. His lips parted, and he licked them—and that was all the permission I needed.
I grabbed him by the waist and pulled him into me, my lips crashing into his. He gasped against my mouth, his hands flying up—like he didn’t know whether to push me away or pull me closer.
He chose the latter.Thank the good goddess.
The kiss was messy and desperate, all teeth and hunger, like we’d been starving for this moment but didn’t know how to do it right. Mylo whimpered, the sound so raw it punched me in the gut—and broke what was left of my restraint.
I backed him up until his hips hit the desk, and in one quick motion, I lifted him onto it. Papers scattered everywhere, but I didn’t give a fuck.
Mylo pulled back, breathless, eyes wide with disbelief, his lips swollen from our kisses. “What the hell, Holden?”
I kissed him again instead of answering, because words felt useless. There wasn’t a single way to explain how I’d fought this—how I’d tried to stay away—and failed so spectacularly.
I’d never taken so much pleasure in failing.
His hands found their way to my shoulders, gripping tight like he was trying to anchor himself. “I had no idea...” he whispered against my lips. “You... you wanted this?”
I groaned, the sound rumbling deep in my chest. “You have no idea.”
His laugh was shaky. “I thought you hated me.”
“Far from it.” My fingers slid under the hem of his shirt, tracing the warm skin there. He shivered under my touch, and it sent a jolt of heat straight through me.
“This whole time...” Mylo shook his head, still trying to process. “You acted like I didn’t exist.”
I pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, my thumb brushing over his cheek. “I thought if I stayed away... I could protect you, and maybe it would go away.”
Liar!
He blinked up at me, confused. “Protect me from what? And did it?”
“Not even close.” I decided to ignore the first part.
I must’ve said the right thing because his eyes shifted—something changed in him, something I felt more than saw. His grip tightened on my shoulders, and for a moment, all that vulnerability melted away, replaced by something braver, something more determined.
“I’m not a charity case,” Mylo whispered, leaning in close, his breath warm against my skin. “And I’m not going to wait around for you to figure out what you want.”
His words hit me like a challenge. And damn if I didn’t rise to meet it.
It was a mix of seeing him so brave, standing up for himself, and the idea that I might lose him—to someone who definitely didn’t deserve him. Even though I wasn’t sure I deserved him, I knew I would do everything to make sure I did.
I kissed him harder this time, pouring every ounce of frustration and longing into it. Mylo kissed me back just as fiercely, his hands sliding into my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan.
We were a mess—a beautiful, chaotic mess—but I couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Not until I’d had all of him.
He tugged at my shirt, his fingers clumsy but determined. “Holden...” His voice was a broken plea, and I swore right then and there that I’d never let him feel unsure about this—about us—again.
