“Listen to me, Damian.” Her voice cracks, fragile but edged with something desperate, and it sends a sharp twist through my chest. “I can make my way to Nevada a lot faster than you can drive me there. It’s Tuesday. Ineedto be back before Saturday. I have to be.”
I crouch beside her.
She scrambles back, panic wild in her eyes, but something stops her.
Her foot is wedged deep inside the splintered top of a rotting log. If she tries to yank it free, she’s going to snap her ankle clean in half.
“Stop squirming,” I murmur, reaching out before she can hurt herself. “You’re going to mess up your ankle. Just . . . stop. Let’s talk for a minute.”
“I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’d rather be doing literally anything else right now than talk to you.” She twists away, her face tightening in pain.
“Just stop moving for a damn second.” My patience is razor-thin. I need her to just fucking make this easy for me.
She exhales sharply, making a frustrated sound that slices through the woods, but at least she stops moving. Her breath is shaky, her fingers digging into the dirt as she braces herself like she’s expecting me to lunge. Like I’m some kind of monster.
I press my fingers against the rotting wood, testing its give. The log is splintered and damp, ready to fall apart, but her foot is jammed in deep.
“I don’t need your help,” she snaps, yanking her leg hard. A sharp cry rips from her throat, raw and pained. She stills, sucking in a harsh breath, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts.
I exhale through my nose, jaw locking tight. “Will breaking an ankle get you there faster?”
She glares, but there’s no real fight left in it.
I grip the log with both hands and twist hard. The wood crumbles, splintering apart in my grasp.
The second there’s space, she bolts up, yanking her foot free, stumbling as her weight shifts. The motion is too fast.
She wobbles, her body pitching forward.
I move without thinking.
My hands clamp around her arms just as she collapses into me, the force of it slamming our bodies together. Her breath stutters, her fingers instinctively clutching my jacket for balance. Heat sears between us, an electric charge crackling in the cold air.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
Her scent, something warm and sharp, like vanilla and honey, hits me first. Then the feel of her, the way her body molds against mine, soft and tense, like she wants to shove me away but can’t quite bring herself to let go.
Her pulse thrums against my fingers, fast and wild. I should let her go.
But I don’t.
She tilts her head back, those stormy blue eyes locking onto mine, fury and something dangerously close to need burning behind them.
The space between us is barely there, our breaths tangling, her lips parted just enough to make my brain go straight to the worst possible places.
“Get your hands off me,” she murmurs, voice low and shaky, but not nearly as sharp as it should be.
I shoulddefinitelyget my hands off her. Instead, I lean in just enough that I can feel the heat of her breath against my mouth. “Then stop falling into me.”
Her breath hitches.
For a second, I think she’s going to shove me away, break the moment before it can spiral into something neither of us needsright now. But she just stays there, locked in place, her body still pressed tight against mine. I have the irrational urge to press my lips to the pulse on her throat to measure how fast it thunders under her skin.
Fuck. She’s too beautiful.
It’s an indescribable kind of beautiful because it comes from everywhere, all at once. Her full, pouty lips. Those intense blue eyes. Her deep, throaty voice. The way she moves. The way she’s looking up at me right now.
I let the moment stretch just long enough to see her squirm. Then, just as fast, I release her, stepping back like she didn’t just unravel something inside me. She sways slightly before catching herself, blinking hard like she’s trying to shake off whatever the hell that was.
