His gaze lingers on me, heat prickling across my skin. I can feel it, his attention, the way my body reacts even more despite my best efforts to ignore it. “Got a hot date?”
“I don’t date.”
“No? Just pin innocent betas against your office door and almost lose all control?”
My head snaps toward him, eyes locking with his. My foot easing off the gas pedal. The smug smile curling his lips tells me everything I need to know—he knows. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows why Lakelyn drove me out of my mind that day. And now, he’s digging, pushing buttons like he always does.
“Or not-so-innocent omegas against chain-link fences? Is that your thing now?” His voice is teasing, low, each word like a spark striking dry tinder inside me. “Seeing how far you can take it before going absolutely feral?”
Each syllable burrows under my skin, heating my blood in ways it shouldn't. My musk escapes before I can stop it, filling the car, heavy and charged. I see the way he inhales, eyes widening, but he doesn’t say a word. My grip on the wheeltightens, knuckles stark white, and for a split second, I’m not sure if I’m about to snap at him or pull over and?—
Damn him.
Chad’s watching me with that same infuriating smile, like he knows exactly the effect he has. I swallow hard, keeping my focus on the road, but everything in me feels coiled, on edge.
I swallow hard, keeping my gaze on the road, though my body feels like a live wire. Every muscle coiled, on edge. “Cat got your tongue?” he taunts, his voice softer now, threading into the tension between us.
“Your taunting is useless,” I say, though my voice sounds colder than I feel. My body betrays me, blood pounding too fast.
For a moment, the car fills with silence, thick and suffocating. Then he sucks in a breath that makes me glance at him, just for a second.
He’s gone pale, staring out the window, eyes fixed on the dark stretch of road illuminated by my headlights. The tension in the car shifts, sharp and brittle.
He lets out a dry, broken laugh. “Useless. Yeah.” His voice cracks, and he nods to himself. “So I’ve been told.” There's a scoff in his throat, but it sounds hollow.
“Stop the car,” he says, voice suddenly tight.
“What?” I glance at him, confused. “Why?”
“Because… if you don’t, I’ll jump.” His voice is strained, a quiet desperation threading through it.
“What the hell, Chad?” My heart slams against my ribs as I hit the brakes, the car screeching to a halt by the side of the road. Gravel crunches beneath the tires, the darkness outside wrapping around us.
Before he can reach for the door handle, I grab him, my hand gripping his arm tightly, yanking him back toward me. “You’re not going anywhere.” The words come out in a growl, rougher than I intended.
He struggles for a heartbeat, defiant as always, but I don’t let go. My arms wrap around him before I can think, pulling him into my chest, holding him tight. The rumble of a deep, instinctual purr rises from my chest, vibrating through him.
Chad freezes. “Let me go,” he mutters, his voice lacking conviction.
But I don’t. My purr grows stronger, filling the silence, and I feel him fight it, fight me. For a moment, he resists, his body trembling with it. But then—slowly—he softens, the fight draining out of him like air leaving a balloon. His hands fist in my shirt, and suddenly he’s clinging to me, clutching me like I’m the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
“Chad…” I whisper, my voice hoarse, as I bury my face in his hair. His scent surrounds me, a mix of something familiar and raw.
He doesn’t respond, just presses himself closer, breathing hard like he’s trying to hold himself together. Like he’s afraid that if he lets go, he’ll shatter.
The only sound is the steady rumble of my purr and his ragged breaths, the night outside closing in around us as I hold him tighter, refusing to let go.
Thisis what I crave. Him in my arms, needing me the same way I’ve been needing him. More than I want to admit.
I smooth a hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands slip between my fingers. Gently, I press my lips to the top of his head. Soft. Reassuring. I can’t stop the purr rumbling in my chest, vibrating through us both, but I don’t want to. Not now. Not when he needs it.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my words low and rough against his hair. “For what I said. About you… being useless.” The regret clings to my voice. “You’re not, Chad. You never were. Nothing you do is useless.”
For a moment, he stays there, his body still tense against mine, like he’s holding onto the hurt. Then, slowly, I feel him relax—just a little. Like the words are finally sinking in.
He lifts his head, pulling back enough to look at me. His eyes are wide, raw, vulnerable in a way that hits me straight in the gut. There’s something unsaid there, something between us, and I don’t know how long I can keep holding it back.
His gaze drops to my mouth, just for a second, before flicking back up to meet mine. And that’s it. The last thread of restraint snaps.
