“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” she says quietly. “All day.”
That does more damage than anger would have.
“You told me this morning there’s no future here,” she continues. “That this can’t work. But every time you show up, it makes me question whether you actually believe that.”
“I do believe that,” I say, rubbing my beard. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t want it. This isn’t simple, Coco. You know that.”
“You kidnapped me,” she says. Not accusing, just stating a fact.
“I know.”
“Then stop acting like wanting is the issue,” she says. “You keep showing up, and then you keep telling me it can’t happen. Pick one.”
The words hit low and sharp. I feel them in my jaw before I think them through.
“I’m trying to protect you,” I say.
“From what?” Her voice cracks just enough to matter. “From you?”
I don’t answer. There isn’t one that wouldn’t sound like a lie.
She’s too close now. I catch her scent, the warmth she carries, the way her attention stays fixed on me like she already knows what I’m about to do.
My hand brushes her arm before I decide anything. That’s all it takes.
“Maybe I am trying to protect you from me,” I say, voice rough.
Her breath stutters. The alley goes still, the quiet pressing in.
“Then stop,” she whispers.
When I kiss her, it’s immediate and unrestrained. All the control I’ve been holding back collapses at once. She grips my shoulders and pulls me in hard, like she’s been braced for this. The sound she makes against my mouth strips away whatever hesitation I had left.
I turn her and press her back against my car, crowding her space. She arches into me without thinking, and that reflex hits deeper than anything deliberate ever could.
My hands slide along her waist, grounding and claiming all at once. I stop myself before it goes further. Barely.
“Ridge,” she breathes, lips at my jaw.
“Iggyt,” I mutter. “You don’t make this easy.”
She smiles against my neck, small and knowing, and it nearly breaks me.
I pull back abruptly, forehead resting against hers, breathing hard. My grip tightens at her hips like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
“This is a mistake,” I say.
She doesn’t argue.
“So is leaving.”
I straighten slowly and force space between us. My hands drop. The air is colder without her there.
“Get in your car,” I say quietly. “I’ll watch until you’re gone.”
Her expression shifts, disappointment and understanding tangled together. She nods once. “Are you really doing this?”
I don’t answer. All I want to do is grab her and pull her to me and never let her go. But being with me would only hurt her, would only bring more danger to her.
