She shakes her head against me. “It feels like it is.”
“It’s not,” I repeat, firmer this time.
She doesn’t argue. She just leans into me more. And I hold her. God, I hold her. Like it’s the only thing keeping her together.
My hand keeps moving through her hair, slow, steady, grounding.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her.
I don’t know if that’s true. But I need her to believe it. She tilts her head up slightly, just enough that I can see her face. Her eyes are glassy. Red around the edges. But locked on mine.
And something shifts.
That same pull. Stronger now. Because this isn’t just attraction. This is everything. Her hand slides up my chest, resting over my heart like it did that night in the garage. My breath stutters.
“Garrison…” she whispers.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. I made a promise. I swore?—
But she’s looking at me like that.
Like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded. Like she needs me. And God—I need her too. My hand stills in her hair, my other arm tightening around her waist.
“Willow…” I warn, but it comes out rough.
Weak.
She doesn’t stop. She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans closer. And then—she kisses me. Soft at first. Just like before. Just like the first time. But it’s different now. Because this time?—
I don’t hesitate. I kiss her back. And it’s not careful. Not restrained. It’s everything I’ve been holding back since that night, since the roof, since the second I saw her again. Hell—it’s everything I’ve been holding back since the night in the garage.
My hand tightens in her hair, tilting her head just slightly as I deepen the kiss, pulling her closer like I can’t get enough.
Because I can’t.
Her fingers clutch at my shirt, her body pressing into mine, and every nerve in my body lights up at once. Heat. Need. Something deeper. Something dangerous.
I’ve wanted this. God, I’ve wanted this.
Her lips move against mine, soft but urgent, and it feels like something breaking open inside me, something I’ve been trying to keep locked down for too long.
I don’t think.
I don’t stop.
I just—Feel.
Her breath catches, and I pull her closer, my arm firm around her waist, anchoring her to me like I never want to let go.
The elevator dings. The sound cuts through everything. But neither of us moves. My forehead rests against hers, both of us breathing harder than we should be.
And reality starts to creep back in. I just crossed a line I can’t uncross.
We move to the room. She presses herself against me the second the door closes, her hands sliding up my chest, her lips finding the pulse point in my neck. I groan, my hands gripping her hips, pulling her flush against me so she can feel how hard I already am.
“Fuck, you’re eager,” she whispers, her teeth grazing my earlobe.
“You have no idea,” I growl, my hands sliding down to cup her ass, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp.
