The challenge hung in the air, ripe and trembling. Behind us, the exit sign’s red glow threw her face into sharp relief—flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes gone midnight-dark.
I answered without words.
Our collision echoed off concrete walls—a cacophony of desperate hands and shattered restraint. Her mouth burned hotter than August asphalt, tasting of lime and recklessness. When she bit my lower lip, my wolf nearly shredded my skin from the inside.
“Bronc.” My name spilled from her like a curse and a prayer.
I hauled her up, her legs locking around my waist. Her jeans just loose enough to give her room to squeeze me exactly right. The beast purred approval.
“Oh, God.” She gasped.
I had to stop this. She was too drunk to consent. And I wouldn’t do this until she understood what I was and that I knew who she really was.
“No.”
Her face. All beauty and confusion. “No?”
“No Juliet. We can’t do this. First of all, you’re in no condition.”
Her legs let go and slowly slid down my massive frame and hit the ground. If it were possible, I’d swear she was getting drunker by the minute.
“Fine. I get it.”
I took her face in my hands. Those espresso orbs filled with tears were killing me.
“No, I don’t think you do. But you will. Let me take you home.”
She stomped her foot and almost fell over. “I willnotlet you take me home!”
“Ok Juliet. If that’s how you want it.”
I bent down and threw her over my shoulder. The parade through the clubhouse was not my finest moment, but I had zero fucks to give. I snatched her purse from the coatroom, and we were gone.
By the time I buckled her into the truck’s passenger seat, she’d retreated into that glassy-eyed stillness rich girls perfect in finishing school.
The dashboard clock glowed 1:47 AM as we made the short trek to her apartment. She didn’t speak until I killed the engine.
“Don’t.” She slapped my hand, reaching for her seatbelt. “I’m not some broken—”
Her heel caught on the running board. I caught her centimeters from the asphalt, tequila fumes blooming between us. “Easy, hellcat.”
“Don’t touch me!” She writhed, elbow connecting with my solar plexus. “I don’t need your… your…”
The first dry heave doubled her over. I barely got out of the way before my boots were baptized in the remains of the barbecue she’d eaten earlier.
Bent over her on the driveway, I gathered her freshly colored hair while her body purged poison. Each convulsion mapped her vertebrae through thin cotton. My fault. Should’ve cut her off after the third tequila.
“M’fine,” she slurred, swatting weakly as I carried her inside. “Put me down, you… you…”
“Neanderthal?” I got her door unlocked and got her into the quaint apartment that I’d only recently remodeled. “Original.”
Her fist connected with my jaw. “Asshole.”
“Consistent.” I deposited her on the wedding ring quilt that adorned the wrought iron bed, ignoring how the moonlight caught the tears slipping past clenched lashes. “Boots off. Now.”
She fumbled with the laces. I turned to the bathroom faucet to grab water, but the whimper froze me mid-step.
“Damn… fucking…”
