“Whether you’d actually let me.”
I smile, heart tripping, pulse in my throat. “Maybe.”
He laughs quietly, shakes his head, looks back at the windshield like he’s steadying himself. Outside, headlights sweep the road—finally, my ride.
I check my phone. “That’s me.”
He nods, the smile still tugging at his mouth. “Guess I’ll have to wait on that maybe.”
“Guess so.” I open the door, cold air rushing in. “Thanks for the warmth.”
“Anytime, Millie.”
Knox
When she walked in, I noticed her before anything else—the quick sweep of movement, the soft scrape of her boots against the floor, the flash of green eyes that didn’t belong to this room full of regulars. Denim jacket, black leggings, hair pulled back in a way that made me want to know what it looked like when it wasn’t.
I meant to keep my head down. Play a few games of darts and then pool, grab a beer, go home. Instead, I caught myself watching her line up shots with a focus that didn’t match the hour.
There was something unstudied about her. Nothing performed. Just a woman who decided to show up and ended up making every breath in the place tilt a little.
Millie.
Even her name has that soft pull to it, something that fits between your teeth when you say it. I didn’t ask for her number. I should have. Now the space beside me feels wrong without her in it.
She looked younger than me, maybe twenty-five at most. But that scent—vanilla undercut with salt and warmth—was unmistakable.
Omega.
My instincts stirred the moment I caught it, sharp enough that I had to step back, let the air move through me before I did something stupid. Amy’s a Beta, her scent easy to live beside. This… this scraped right under the ribs. I can still taste it in the back of my throat.
I’m halfway through telling myself to get over it when the door swings open again.
And she’s there.
Same jacket, same soft flush on her cheeks, her hair a little messier now from the wind. Her eyes find me before I can speak.
“Hey,” I say, sitting upright too fast.
She climbs in like it’s the only place she meant to go. “Hey,” she murmurs, voice smaller.
For a beat, I just look at her. Her hands are in her lap, twisting the hem of her sleeve.
“Is it okay that I came back?”
I swallow. “Why did you?”
“The driver was an older lady. She looked nice, just not…” She hesitates, biting her lip.
“Not what?”
“Not what I wanted tonight,” she says softly.
Something in my chest stirs. Instinct moves faster than thought. My hand comes up, palm against her jaw, my thumb tracing the edge of her cheek. She freezes—not from fear, more like surprise—and then leans in.
Her breath mixes with mine, and the world tilts just slightly. Her eyes are locked on me, wide and beautiful, and when I close the distance, it’s like gravity’s been waiting for the chance.
The kiss is brief, but enough to wreck me. Her lips are soft, a quiet hum against mine before we part. The cab goes still except for the sound of our breathing. I can feel her heartbeat through the air between us.
