I don’t.
A flood of reasons break open in my mind.
Like, why should I?
Because Quinn is somewhere, probably giving Paisley a recap of the woman he left mid-breakdown and how thrilled he is she’sthriving.
Because I just watched the man who swore I was too heavy to love flash a diamond like it was proof he’d been right all along.
Because Nolan Rhodes just looked at me like I’m not baggage but the whole damn destination.
Because I want—no,need—to remind myself I’m not the girl Quinn left behind.
I’m Rorie“The Reckoning”Adams.
My eyes meet Nolan’s, and different kind of energy hangs between us. Not a spark. Not a sizzle.
A crack.
Hairline, but one that means something’s about to split wide open, like a door creaking, daring me to walk through.
So I do.
One step.
One breath.
My fingers find the back of Nolan’s warm neck, solid, familiar in a way that makes no sense.
He stills. Blinks once. Again. A guarded look in his eyes flutters.
He doesn’t think I’ll do it.
Let’s show him he’s wrong.
Rising onto my toes, I press my mouth to his. No fanfare. No hesitation. Only heat and will and the heady rush of crossing a line I can’t uncross.
Hands cup my jaw, but Nolan doesn’t deepen the kiss. Doesn’t take over. He lets me lead. Letsmeclaimhim.
The moment crackles.
My mouth surges with urgency and Nolan groans against my lips like I’ve set him on fire. The sound makes me lose my balance. It’s a low, deep exhale as though he’s been holding his breath for days and I’m the thing that finally lets him breathe.
My fingers fist the front of his shirt, tugging him closer, needing more—needinghim.
But Nolan stays slow. His lips move like he’s memorizing mine, a study in self-control. Every brush is measured, purposeful, a promise, not a possession.
His mouth doesn’t demand—it asks.
It listens.
It learns.
His lips map the shape of mine, tracing them with the barest hint of tongue—tentative, teasing, coaxing my mouth open. It’s so gentle it guts me. I melt, completely, knees softening as the world around us fades out. No traffic. No city noise. Just us.
And this kiss.
One hand slides to my waist, anchoring me with that impossible steadiness of his, and the proof of how badly he wants more nudges into me. He’s holding himself back. And somehow, that restraint makes everything burn hotter.
