Page 122 of Broken Blades

Her eyes were wide, stunned, searching mine for answers I didn't have. Her lips were swollen from the kiss, her cheeks flushed pink, her fingers still gripping my coat like she wasn't entirely sure her legs would hold her.

I didn't let go of her waist. Couldn't.

She whispered, voice shaking, "Wyatt⁠—"

"Don't." The word came out rougher than I intended. "Don't ask me what that was."

Because I didn't have an answer.

Or I did, and it was one neither of us could afford.

I shifted her bag onto my shoulder, the weight settling familiar and right. My hand found the small of her back—automatic now, instinctive—guiding her through the players' lot toward the rows of vehicles gleaming under the overhead lights.

Behind us, someone wolf-whistled. Calder, probably. Maybe Rowan. Didn't matter.

I ignored them. Always had. Always would.

The cold bit at my face, sharp and clean after the heat of the kiss still burning through my system. Chastity walked beside me, close enough I felt the brush of her arm against mine, her breathing still unsteady.

She fumbled with her keys, the metallic jingle loud in the quiet parking lot. "You played amazing tonight."

Her voice was soft, almost shy. Like she wasn't sure she had the right to say it.

My chest tightened—pulled taut like a string wound too tight, ready to snap. "You being there helped."

The words came out before I could stop them. Truth I hadn't meant to give her. Truth that made me vulnerable in ways I'd spent years learning to avoid.

Her cheeks flushed pink in the lamplight. She ducked her head, but I caught the small smile tugging at her lips.

We reached her car—modest sedan, practical, nothing flashy. Exactly what I'd expect from someone who tried to cook dinner as a thank-you instead of just saying the words.

I opened her door, held it while she turned to face me. "I'll meet you at home."

Home.

The word sat wrong and right all at once. It wasn't my home anymore. Hadn't been for weeks. Not since she'd walked through the door with that damn suitcase and turned everything I thought I knew upside down.

Her eyes flickered with something warm—something that made every warning bell in my head scream at me to back off, walk away, put distance between us before this got any messier.

"Okay."

She moved to step into the car.

I grabbed her wrist gently. She turned back, eyes wide, questioning.

And I kissed her again. Not like before—not the claiming, possessive press of mouth on mouth that had left us both breathless and shaken.

Softer.

Slower.

Almost tender.

My lips brushed hers like a question instead of a demand, like maybe I was asking permission for something I'd already taken. Her breath caught, fingers curling against my chest, and I felt her melt into it—into me—with a trust that gutted me completely.

I pulled back before I couldn't. Before I backed her against the car and showed her exactly how far past fake this had gone.

Her eyes were dazed, unfocused, her lungs working like she'd forgotten how to breathe.