But it isn’t about that anymore. Not for me. And as I look into Not-Kade’s eyes, not for him either, I think.
“I never actually started one, Willow,” he says. He stands from his seat, and when he takes my hand, I let him. He leads me to the living room, to that wildly comfortable couch that looks out at Sin City. It’s almost like we both need space after dropping pieces of ourselves on the floor like glass shards. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in all the neon of the night, the light painting his profile in sharp angles.
I sink into the cushions, crossing my legs under me, trying to gather my composure. He sits beside me, but not too close. A respectful distance. A torturous distance.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence is thick, weighted with everything we’ve just admitted. Then, finally, his eyes come back to me.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Willow.”
The words slam into me like a confession he’s been holding back for years instead of hours.
I smile, a small and controlled thing, because that’s safer than melting. “That sounds like something a stalker would say.”
He smirks, leaning back on the couch, stretching out his long body. “Oh, I’m definitely a stalker. Don’t think for a second I’m not aware of it.” His green eyes catch mine, playful and piercing all at once. “But it doesn’t make it less true. I can’t stop thinking about you, Willow Vale. Every time I close my eyes, you’re there. Even when I try not to. Especially when I try not to.”
My chest aches. Because I feel it, too.
“I’m still not sure I understand why.” My voice comes out a whisper, rougher than I mean it to. “You know what I am. What I’ve done.”
He turns slightly, his arm stretching along the back of the couch, closer now, like he wants me to see the truth in his eyes. “Because you’re the first person I’ve met in years who doesn’t feel fake. Who doesn’t hide. Who doesn’t apologize for existing. You terrify me, Willow. And you fucking thrill me. And every bone in me knows you’re worth it.”
My throat goes tight. Nobody,no one, has ever said anything like that to me.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I shift forward onto my knees and crawl across the cushions. Holding his gaze the entiretime, feeling like the air is growing thicker, more electric by the moment, I lift a leg over him and straddle his hips. As I settle into his lap, I try not to think about the fact that it feels like I was carved to fit exactly right here. His breath catches. My heart hammers so hard it’s a miracle he can’t feel it through my entire body.
His green eyes are locked on mine, waiting. He’s following my lead.
Panic wants to take me over. Whispers of the past are in the back of my brain. I’m struggling to stay in the present and not fall back into that office, that closet, his car. Embarrassment and shame are raking their claws along the back of my scalp, telling me to stop.
But staring at this man who has shared so many of his own gray-zone truths breaks me free.
Fuck the past.
I press my lips to his.
I’ve forgotten what it feels like to physically touch someone else. How hot someone’s lips can feel. How pliant skin is.
But my entire body lights on fire when he kisses me back.
It’s tender. It’s hesitant for just a moment. And then I kiss him again. My hands come up to either side of his neck and I anchor myself onto the most beautiful man on the damn planet.
The hesitation in Kade begins to evaporate. At first, it’s like testing the edges of a blade. But finally, his hands rise. They settle into my hips. His fingers tighten slowly as my lips part and I taste him. His tongue dances with mine, and his grip tightens in the best way.
The breath in my chest catches as something sparks in me. Want. I haven’t felt want in so long.
But no, it’s actually more than that.
This is fuckingneed.
A moan slips over my lips as I rock my hips against him, just slightly, and I kiss him harder. His hands are grounding me like I’m something precious instead of something sharp. And instead of feeling like manipulation, like coercion, they feel like… devotion. They feel like a safe landing place.
And it all just drives me hotter. My lips part again, his tongue grazes mine, and the world narrows to this tiny little space in the universe where his hands fit me like he’s memorized every bit of me already.
It’s dizzying. Terrifying. Addictive.
For one beautiful, reckless moment, I forget the blood on my hands, the secrets between us, the weight of everything we’re not saying. There’s just this: me, him, and the fire we’ve been circling since the second our eyes met through that window.
But as I grind myself against him—I feel it. The cold climbing up my throat. The pit in my stomach. I feel the edge. The danger of going too far. My shame claws up from the past, whispering what happens if I lose control, if I let this go where it’s going. My body stiffens.
