Page 11 of Reckless Hearts

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Her mouth popped open with a scoff, and she stared at the creek, dismayed. My stomach twisted as she shook her head and tossed the notebook down to the ground, standing over me. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve.”

“I kno?—”

“No, you don’t know,” she snapped, her finger in my face. I blinked quickly at her outburst, not expecting it. Which was stupid on my part, the woman was a loose cannon. “You don’t know thehalfof it, Emmett!” Her glare pinned me in place. Sharp, merciless. This clearly ran deeper than I thought. “Ineverwould’ve made that offer to you had I known you’d run off not once, buttwice.”

Was she serious? “How did you expect me to react? You’re Savannah’s best friend!” I reminded her because sheclearlyforgot. I rose to my feet. “Never in a million years would I have expected you to say anything like that to me! How can you be pissed at me for reacting like that?”

“Well, I did and I am.” She threw her hands in the air, letting them slap down against her jean-clad thighs. “And then you pulled thatshitin my office. Do you know how humiliating that is? What I put on the line for you by even offering that?”

“Then why did you? I didn’t ask you to,” I yelled.

“Because I care about you, you dumbass!” she screamed right back. The whole forest seemed to have fallen silent. Her eyes widened, and she staggered backwards as if her own words had struck her like a blow.

She shook her head, recovering quickly as if she hadn’t just offered up a piece of herself to me. “You’re Savannah’s brother. I’ve known you nearly all my life. And seeing you like this,”—her voice cracked while looking me over, shaking her head—“barely existing, hiding behind those walls you’ve built so high no one can climb over or break through, too scared to evenbewith someone.” Her words kept coming, and my jaw locked so tight I thought my teeth might crumble. “I just want to help you, Emmett, but you won’t let me. You won’t letanyonehelp you. Why? Why are you so afraid of letting someone in?”

My hands curled into fists at my sides, every muscle pulled taut like a wire about to snap. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said lowly.

But she just kept going, relentless and stubborn like always. “I would if you just talked to me. I know how to treat PTSD, how to give you tools to cope, how to help you through episodes.”

I was sick of being looked at like a charity case. Like I was something that needed fixing. “Goddamnit, Delilah, just stop talking!” I snapped, having had enough. This was hard enoughas it was. Couldn’t she see that? See how this was the most I’d ever let someone get?

She lifted her chin, defiance flashing in her hazel eyes. “Make me,” she ground out, the dare like steel between her teeth.

I crossed the few feet between us like a storm unleashed, pulling her body into mine, my hand tangling in her gorgeous hair, and I lowered my mouth to hers.

But then I froze. I froze with nothing more than an inch between us.

Delilah’s shallow, quick breaths fanned across my mouth, her eyes luminous in the sunset, wide and waiting. I couldn’t make myself move forward, but I couldn’t pull away either. I didn’t want to. I wanted her.Neededher in this moment, but this wall, these demons, put her just out of reach.

I pressed my forehead against hers, eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t trust myself,” I confessed with a ragged breath. The words hurt as I said them, having never uttered them aloud until now. It was shameful, humiliating. I wasn’t the man my father raised me to be, who the Army molded me into, who Iwantedto be.

I was a coward. A failure.

Delilah took my hand, and it met warm, soft skin. Beneath my fingertips was the steady movement of her breathing and the pounding of her heart. It was quick and frantic, like mine, but I let it carry me, consume me until everything slowed nearly to a standstill.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice soft, reassuring. I looked at my hand splayed across her chest, my fingers at the base of her neck. “I’ll trust you enough for the both of us.”

The words flipped a switch deep inside me, and I moved, closing the distance between us. My hand slid up from the base of her neck and cupped her jaw, deepening the kiss. Delilah’s mouth opened for me, and I clung to her. She tasted likefreedom. Like salvation and adventure. She moaned into my mouth, a needy, desperate thing that sounded full of relief.

Fuck, that sound. I wanted more of it.

Three years. Three long, grueling years I had gone without kissing a woman, and somehow it all felt worth it now that it’d led me here.

Delilah’s fingers curled in my shirt, pulling me closer like she couldn’t get enough. My hand slid from her jaw to her hair, tugging her back to kiss along her neck. Her pulse thundered beneath my tongue, her skin salty and sweet. She smelled just as good, too. Like spiced vanilla.

God, I fucking missed this. Missed everything about being with someone like this. I never would’ve thought I’d have it again because of Delilah.

“Emmett,” she panted. My dick jumped in my jeans, hearing my name like that. Chills coated my skin despite the September air. My grip on her tightened, her back arching. Her hand slipped beneath my shirt, sliding up my back. Her fingers were featherlight along my spine, only to grab onto me tight when I nipped her jaw before kissing my way back to her wicked mouth.

“Who fucking knew,” I panted against her lips, rubbing my thumbs back and forth on either side of her ribcage. I kissed her again like it was some kind of compulsion.

“Knew what?” She was just as breathless as me, kissing me just as much.

I pulled away, smiling, and it only grew when I saw how wrecked she was. Wrecked because ofme. “That you could kiss like that after talking so much shit.”

“Fuck you,” she said and grabbed me by the jaw, hauling my mouth back to hers.

“Only if you’re good.”