Page 79 of Hard Pass

And that’s when I finally give in.

I step into her space. Close enough to feel her breath on my lips, to notice the way her chest rises and falls, and to ignite the ache deep inside me that lies and tells me she’s the only one who can fix this.

“Sorry,” I say quieter now, rougher, “is knowing it’s not going to fix shit, but still wanting to finish what we started a long time ago.”

The words hang there between us. Heavy. Unavoidable.

Her breath catches. I see it. I feel it.

And that’s it.

That’s the line.

I don’t think. I don’t stop it. I don’t want to.

I stare at her with everything on the line and do the one goddamn thing that will finally make me feel good.

I slant my lips over hers and take.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Dublin

I don’t see it coming.

One second I’m standing there, trying to catch my breath, trying to find the words that make sense and the next . . . his mouth is on mine.

Urgent. Demanding. Desperate. Stealing the air right out of my lungs.

I freeze. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

But I followed him here, didn’t I? Through the storm. Through the dark. All the way here to his house.

Maybe I knew.

Is it why I followed him?

The thought barely forms before it’s swallowed whole because I surrender. Not slowly. Not carefully. Completely.

It’s like I’ve been waiting for this, wanting this, and as much as I’d rationalized that I didn’t, the way I just dove head first into this moment says otherwise.

My hands come up before I can stop them. They fist in his wet shirt, pulling him closer like he’s the only thing keeping me from losing my footing.

And God, I feel it. That same violent and delectable chemistry from Cabo. It’s stronger now—more dangerous—because this time I know exactly what it is, and I still don’t stop.

His hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me there, grounding and ungrounding me all at once. His other hand tightens on my waist like he’s afraid I might disappear if he lets go.

Push him away.

Stop this.

I don’t, because the second I try, his tongue sweeps between my lips again and the thoughts disappear.

The kiss isn’t careful. It isn’t slow. It’s laced with desperation like he needs this.

Like I do.

And that realization alone should be enough to make me pull back. It isn’t. Because for one reckless, terrifying moment I’m back in that bar in Cabo, walking up to a man I want and not caring about the consequences.