Page 82 of Harnessed in Gold

I drag my nails through his soft hair. “Anything?”

“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me, Betts. Even though I don’t deserve it.”

“Leo—”

“I’m sorry.” He grips me tightly on both sides of my head, his eyes, full of remorse and longing, raking across my face. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Regret sinks into my chest, heavy and desperate. It’s his, I think, but it could just as well be mine. I consider answering him in words. Telling him how I understand now. How I was wrong to jump to conclusions about his intentions.

But only action will convince him he’s forgiven.

Before he can say more, I kiss him, occupying his lips and tongue while I take his hands from my waist and slip them up the back of my sweater. We both hiss as his cold fingers meet my hot skin, and again when I push my palms up his chest under his shirt.

I have a vague sense of the cold seeping in around us, but the heat we’re generating is more than enough to drive it away. I don’t care that we’re in a car, that he’s a faerie, that we’re from two different worlds. I only care about the here and now. The feel of him—it’s exactly as I remembered. Firm lips and tongue, sharp bones, soft hair. He tastes of fresh air and ice. The muscles of his thighs cut into mine, and his hardness presses between my legs.

My breathing goes ragged as I feel and remember. Him moving inside me, with deep, steady strokes. So under control.

I whimper, only half aware I’m rocking my hips.

He moans my name, and my eyes flash open. Through the haze of desire, I see him, gazing up at me with equally wild eyes.

I frame his face between my palms. “Take off your glamour.”

With one swipe of his hand, his cheekbones bloom under my fingers and gold glitters in his eyes. I brush back his hair, grazing his pointed ears as he drags his hot mouth down my neck.

He curls his fingers inside the waistband of my jeans, pausing long enough to silently seek my permission. At my nod, he pops the button and tugs at the stubborn zipper. And tugs and tugs again.

Stupid jeans.

I lean away from him to make more room, hitting the steering wheel with my back. “Ow.”

Stupid car.

He growls, his fingers digging into my hips, desperate for access. “I can’t take you home with me.”

Stupid Rime.

And stupid Liv, for always being in our room at this time on a Tuesday.

I peer past Leo to the back seat. It’s tight and cold, but…

For fuck’s sake, what am I thinking? What are we doing, making out in a car like a couple of rebellious teenagers? There’s a dangerous weapon we need to find, an entire realm at stake. Rime has every right to be concerned.

I push off Leo’s shoulders and fall gracelessly back into my seat.

“Betts, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” None of this is okay.

None of this is normal. He’s not some guy in one of my classes, exchanging longing looks with me when the lectures get dull. We’ll never dance at a party, go out for pizza, have coffee together in the picnic area outside the Bobcat.

We could find the macguffin tomorrow; it’s just one gaudy window away. Hell, we could find it an hour from now. And then what? He goes back to Nàdar, or hegoes on the lam.

I bite my lip to stop the tears, swallow hard, and say as casually as I can, “I need to get home. I still have a lot of homework to do.”

“Betts, don’t. Don’t shut down on me.”

“I’m not. I’ll look for the window again tomorrow, I promise.”