Page 80 of Hard Pass

Only this time, I’m sober. And I know exactly what this could cost me.

The kiss breaks just enough for air. Our chests heave. Our gazes stay locked.

“This . . .” My voice wavers. “We can’t, Cole. I can’t do this.”

Even as I say it, my fingers are still curled in his shirt, still holding on, still wanting more.

But he doesn’t argue or try to convince me otherwise. Rather, he just stares at me, which is almost worse. There’s nothing calculated in his expression. No charm. No ego. Just something raw and open and dangerously close to breaking.

His jaw flexes, muscles ticking beneath the skin, with his hands still on me like he doesn’t know how to let go.

Like he doesn’t want to.

And the way he’s looking at me—like I’m his salvation and his damnation . . . God. How can this connection feel this strong, this fast?

His thumb brushes my side. It’s enough to send a delicious heat through me that has nothing to do with logic and everything to do with need.

My control is slipping.

“Dublin,” he says my name low and rough like it’s been dragged out of him.

My name. His eyes. The taste of his kiss still on my tongue.

That’s all it takes.

We crash back together, but this time there’s no hesitation. No shock. No pretending.

This is his escape and my reward.

His hands tighten, pulling me flush against him, and I go willingly. Meeting him. Matching him. Giving back everything he’s taking.

There’s desperation in every touch. An unsated hunger in every press of our bodies, like we’re both trying to make up for something we never fully had.

His mouth moves against mine like he’s memorizing, like he’s claiming, like he’s trying to forget everything else that’s happening outside of this moment.

And I let him.

Because right now this is the only thing that feels real. The only thing that makes sense. The only thing I can hold on to without it slipping away.

This is insane. Reckless. Everything I swore I’d never do.

And yet . . . I don’t stop.

Because there’s chemistry. There’s lust.

But then I tear my lips from his, breath coming fast, trying to steady myself. This will cost me everything.

“We can’t do this,” I repeat.

He exhales slowly, his fingers tightening on my waist. “Now. Later. Does it matter when it’s inevitable?”

The words settle between us and instead of pulling away, instead of ending this before it gets worse, I step fully into his house.

I stay.

His hand slips from my waist, finds the door behind me, and slams it.

The sound echoes through the house. Final. Determined.