Page 8 of Break Me

I take the opening and run with it.

A second later, I'm shoving through the clubhouse door.

The cold hits me first, then the sight of her waiting in the narrow space between the building and the treeline, breath clouding the air, coat wrapped tight around her.

“You took long enough,” she murmurs.

“Your brother was watching,” I say.

“He’s always watching.”

I step closer. She retreats until her shoulders hit the wall. Snowflakes cling to her hair, her lashes, her coat.

“You shouldn’t have looked at me like that inside,” I mutter.

“You looked first.”

I crowd into her space, my hands braced on either side of her head. “You’re making this harder.”

“Good,” she whispers.

That’s all it takes.

My mouth crashes into hers—hungry, rough, weeks of restraint snapping at once. She gasps against my lips, grabbing my jacket with both fists and pulling me closer.

I lift her thigh and drag it along my hip until she’s pressed flush against me. Her breath stutters. My control shatters.

“Raven,” I growl into her neck. “You’re gonna get us caught.”

“Then stop kissing me like this.”

I bite lightly at her pulse. “Can’t.”

Her head falls back against the wall, and I drag my hand under her coat, my fingers slipping beneath her waistband just enough to make her gasp.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” I say between breaths.

“Then stop.”

I pull back enough to meet her eyes. “Ask me to.”

She doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t.

I kiss her again, slower, deeper. Her body arches into me like she’s been waiting all night.

A door slams inside the restaurant. We freeze.

She swallows hard. “Who is it?”

I tilt my head, listening. Years of runs, fights, and close calls train a man to pick out footsteps in a storm.

Heavy boots. Slow. A familiar cadence.

“Knox,” I say, voice low.

Her eyes go wide. She looks like she'd climb inside the wall if it were possible, her chest rising and falling too fast.

“Shit,” she breathes.