Page 82 of Blades Out
I felt the moment something inside him snapped. The last thread of control he'd been clinging to severed clean through.
A sound tore from his throat—half groan, half surrender—and then his mouth crashed back onto mine. Harder this time. Hungrier. Like he'd been holding back before and couldn't anymore.
His hands left my hips, slid up my sides, pulled me flush against him until there was no space, no air, nothing except heat and need and the desperate press of his body against mine.
I stopped thinking. Stopped worrying. Stopped being afraid. Just kissed him back like my life depended on it.
Maybe it did.
His fingers tangled in my hair. Tilted my head back. Deepened the kiss until I couldn't remember why this was supposed to be wrong. All I knew was I'd never felt safer than I did right now. Pressed against my cheap counter. In his arms.
Finally not alone.
Chapter 16
Rhys
I was drowning.
Years of restraint, discipline, control—all of it burned away the second she whispered those three words.
Don't let go.
I couldn't. Even if I wanted to. Even if I should.
My mouth moved over hers like I'd been starving for this. For her. And maybe I had been. Maybe since the moment I saw her again, some part of me had been waiting to break.
She made a sound—small, desperate—and it wrecked me.
My hands shook as I pulled her closer. Too close. Not close enough. Her body fit against mine in a way that felt inevitable. Like we'd been heading toward this collision from the start.
Her fingers twisted in my hoodie, nails scraping through fabric to find skin underneath. The touch sent fire racing down my spine.
I broke the kiss long enough to shrug out of the hoodie. Watched her eyes track the movement, wide and dark and wanting.
"Bedroom." The word came out rough. More command than question.
She nodded. Grabbed my hand.
The apartment was tiny. Three steps and we were there. She fumbled with the door. I reached past her, pushed it open, guided her inside with hands that wouldn't stop trembling.
The bed was small. Unmade. A single pillow. Everything about this space screamed temporary, unsafe, hers. And I hated that she'd been here alone. Hated that I hadn't protected her better. Hated that I was the one making it worse.
But I couldn't stop.
Her hands found the hem of my shirt. Hesitant. Shaking.
I caught her wrists. Held them still between us.
"Olivia." I forced myself to meet her eyes. To give her one more chance to think this through. "If we do this?—"
"Please."
The word shattered the last of my resolve.
I kissed her again. Slower this time. Deliberate. Let her feel exactly how much I wanted this even as guilt clawed at my chest.
Her sweatshirt came off first. I paused, hands on her waist, searching her face for any sign of fear. Found none. Just trust.
