Page 96 of Reckless

He stops in front of me.

Not trapping me.

Just close.

Close enough I have to tilt my head to keep looking at him.

Close enough I can smell leather and cedar.

His hand comes up beside my head, resting against the wall as another guest slips behind him.

It’s practical.

It should feel practical.

It doesn’t.

The noise of the clubhouse fades into something distant.

His eyes search mine, quieter than I’ve ever seen them. Like he’s looking for permission he doesn’t quite know how to ask for. My heart is beating so hard I’m convinced he can hear it as goose bumps pebble across my skin.

“So,” I whisper.

“So.”

Neither of us moves.

I don’t know who’s leaning first.

Maybe it’s him.

Maybe it’s me.

Maybe it’s both of us giving up the same inch at the same time.

The space between us disappears until I can feel the warmth of his breath against my lips, and every instinct I have screams to close the distance.

Just kiss me.

His gaze flicks to my mouth, back to my eyes, then his jaw tightens.

For one suspended second I think he’s going to do it.

I know I want him to.

Then…

“Sage!” Piper’s voice barrels through the moment like a freight train. She appears beside us wearing the biggest grin I’ve ever seen, completely oblivious to the fact she may have just interrupted the single most important almost-kiss in recorded history.

“You have to come now,” she says, grabbing my sleeve. ‘Deek’s already had two pieces of cake, and I refuse to let him beat me to a third,’ she signs the last part.

Ghost closes his eyes for the briefest fraction of a second—it’s so quick I almost miss it. When he opens them again, the moment has been carefully folded away behind that familiar control. He drops his hand from the wall and takes one step back. “Go,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I should be disappointed.

Instead, as I look at him one last time, bringing my hand up to his chest and patting it twice before Piper drags me toward the cake table, all I can think is… that wasn’t a chance we lost. It was a promise. One we were both going to come back for.

Later, in the quiet of the bathroom, my phone flashes—Unknown Number—buzzing the counter, and my stomach tightens in the familiar way it does now. I set the phone face down and press my palms flat against the cool countertop until my breathing settles. I think about Ghost pulling two dead men’s pockets open on the side of a desert highway, and I think about what he would do if he knew.