I huff a quiet laugh against her mouth. “You’re telling me.”
“Like… bad guys. Threats. My destroyed lab.”
“Yeah.”
“And yet,” she whispers, dragging her lips along my jaw, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
My eyes close for a second. That does something to me I don’t have language for.
I turn my head and kiss the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then the spot just below her ear. Her breath hitches, her fingers tightening in my shirt.
“Crewe,” she whispers, voice breaking.
I pause. Pull back enough to look at her.
Her pupils are blown wide. Her cheeks flushed. She looks like she’s burning from the inside out—and still, she’s steady. Present.
“Say it,” I murmur. “What do you want?”
Her gaze flickers. She’s nervous and vulnerable. Then she lifts her chin. “I want you to kiss me like you’ve been thinking about it all day.”
A low sound slips out of me before I can stop it. “I have,” I confess.
“And I want,” she continues, voice soft but brave, “to feel safe for one second without having to be strong.”
My chest tightens so hard it hurts. I pull her into my lap, careful and slow, giving her time to decide. She comes willingly, straddling me, hands braced on my shoulders like she’s afraid she might float away if she doesn’t hold on.
Her warmth sinks into me.
My hands settle at her hips, firm but restrained. “Riley,” I say, voice gone gravel. “You are safe.”
Her eyes go glossy. “Say it again,” she whispers.
“You’re safe.”
She leans down and kisses me like she believes it.
This time it’s not careful.
It’s need.
She kisses me with everything she’s been holding back—fear, adrenaline, loneliness, stubborn hope. Her mouth moves against mine, deep and wet and desperate, and I meet her, matching her rhythm, keeping her close, keeping her grounded.
I slide one hand up her spine, fingers spreading between her shoulder blades. The other cups her thigh, feeling the soft skin there, the way she trembles when I touch her like she’s not used to being handled with reverence.
She rocks against me without thinking, and my control slips another notch.
I break the kiss with a groan, pressing my forehead to hers. “Riley,” I warn, voice ragged. “If we keep going like this…”
Her breath is hot against my mouth. “Then what?”
I swallow hard. “Then I’m going to want more than I should take tonight.”
She studies me—searching, serious.
Then her fingers brush my cheek. “You’re not taking,” she whispers. “I’m choosing.”
That knocks the air out of me.
