23
MAV
The moment her lips touched mine, the world narrowed to a single point of heat. She tasted of rain and mercy I didn’t deserve. My heart thundered as if it had been waiting for this—forher—not for days, but for years.
My chest tightened.
Not like this.
Not now.
She’d just been dragged through the seven hells—snatched from her feet, held at knifepoint. And now she was pressing herself into my arms like I was safety, salvation. And I wanted to be. I wanted her. But I wasn’t the kind of man who took kisses in the aftermath of fear. Who mistook adrenaline for affection.
I broke the kiss. “Quinn.”
She froze. Her brows drew together above rounded eyes. “I—” she stammered. “I thought?—”
“I don’t want this,” I said.
The light in her eyes guttered out, replaced by confusion and hurt. I hated it. HatedthatI’dput it there.
Panic rose sharp and sour, burning the back of my throat. “I don’t want it this way,” I blurted. “I mean—you don’t owe me anything. Not for what happened today. I didn’t get you out of there with any sort of expectation.”
She gaped at me.
I raked a hand through my hair, grasping for words. “You don’t have to...reward me. I didn’t—” My voice caught. I shook my head hard. “I’m not expecting anything from you. I never have.”
I thought that would make it better, but the silence thickened.
She looked at me like I’d dropped something fragile for the sport of watching it shatter.
A line formed between her brows as her lips pressed into a thin line. “It was not…payment,” she said finally. “I wanted to kiss you.”
Now it was my turn to be entirely confused.
She wanted to kiss me?
Not because I’d saved her. Not because she felt beholden. But because she wanted to. And now, I’d bruised her pride. I might have damaged the trust between us.
I wanted the kiss too. I’ddreamedof it—her mouth on mine, the soft sounds she’d make, her fingers fisting in my shirt to drag me closer. And yet—I’d still pulled away, because I feared she was functioning on relief and gratitude. I couldn’t live with myself if I took something that wasn’t freely given.
“Do you not find me attractive?” she asked.
My head snapped up. “Saints, Quinn. That’s not the problem.”
She held my gaze. “Then what is?”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Tried again.
But nothing came out. Because what was I supposed to say?
I’m falling for you so fast it terrifies me. You make me feel like someone I’m not sure I deserve to be. Every time you look at me like I’m more than I am, I don’t know whether to reach for you or run.
None of those words made it to my lips. I sat there in silence. And she took it for the answer it wasn’t.
