Her apartment is only a block away, yet every step stretches into miles. Each foot forward winding the tension between us tighter and tighter until my muscles lock up with the effort of holding myself back. By the time I push through the front doors of her building, my pulse is a war drum in my skull.
I don’t stop at the elevator. I take the stairs.
Her breathing shifts as I climb, but she still doesn’t move. Still doesn’t ask me to let her go.
I don’t until we’re in her apartment, in her bedroom, and even then—it’s too soon. I’d choose never if given a chance. Which is dangerous. In all the jobs we’ve done, an omega hasn’t tempted me. But there’s something about Willow that does. And I know Graham and Carson feel the same. I’ve seen it in the way they watch her; hell, I can feel it through our bond.
I lower her onto the mattress, plucking her shoes off and tossing them to the side. She curls her fingers tighter into my light jacket as if she can stop me from stepping back. I should pull away. That would be the right thing to do.
I don’t.
She tilts her head, big, wounded eyes meeting mine. My chest tightens. Fuck. I’m such a fucking goner.
“Hunter.”
My name on her lips is a brand to my soul.
I swallow hard. “Yeah?”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak right away. She just looks at me.
Her mascara is smudged just beneath her lashes, her eyes rimmed in red. The city’s noise is still faintly echoing through the windows but, in here, it’s just her. Just me. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed where I set her down, that silky greendress pooling around her thighs, wrinkled from where I cradled her against me all the way up the stairs. One strap has slipped from her shoulder. She doesn’t notice, and I don’t have it in me to fix it.
Her bare feet dangle slightly above the floor, toes curling in a failed attempt to ground herself. She’s unraveling quietly—thread by thread—and I’m watching every strand come loose.
And then, barely above a whisper—“Make it stop.”
Everything freezes. Completely. She’s not asking for comfort. She’s asking for an escape.
Her perfume spikes—sweet, shaken, the sharp edge of crushed blossoms threaded with panic. It clings to my skin, crawls into my lungs, wraps around something primal inside me, and squeezes.
I should step back. I should tell her no. But I can’t. Because I need this too.
Her lips are parted, trembling just slightly, and her eyes cling to mine, desperate for an anchor in this world. They are begging me to help her, and fuck, if it doesn’t break me wide open.
The air between us thickens, pulling tight, the moment itself holding its breath.
And before I can stop myself, before I can remind myself of every reason this is a bad fucking idea—I crush my mouth to hers.
It’s not gentle. It’s heat and teeth and possession. And every word I can’t say out loud because it would scare her.
She kisses me back with a desperation that nearly undoes me, every brush of her mouth frantic, searching, as if the air itself has turned scarce and I’m the only way she remembers how to breathe. Her fingers clutch at me, holding tight, pulling me closer, as though letting go would mean sinking straight to the bottom.
There’s no hesitation, no space between us—only need, sharp and unrelenting. She pours every ounce of fear, longing, and defiance into the kiss, and I take it, I take all of it, because she’s not just kissing me. She’s clinging to me, and in this moment, I am the only thing keeping her afloat.
Her fingers drag up my chest, fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. I let her.
I press her into the mattress, my weight sinking over her as I lick into her mouth, tasting the heat, the desperation, the want. Her nails scrape against my scalp, her legs shifting and parting to draw me closer, her dress riding up her thighs.
Fuck.
I roll my hips into hers, swallowing the gasp that catches in her throat.
Too much. Too fast.
A growl rumbles in my chest, my body demanding more. And then, just as suddenly as I lost myself, I realize what I’m doing, grinding into her like some lusty teenager.
I tear myself away, panting, my forehead dropping to hers as I brace my hands on either side of her head. Her chest rises and falls, her lips swollen, her pupils blown.
