When she finally looked up from her plate, her expression was unreadable. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”
I leaned back in my chair, grinning. “That so?”
“Yeah. Reckless River doesn’t exactly scream ‘gourmet.’”
“We have running water now,” I said with mock pride. “Electricity too.”
Her laugh broke loose, genuine and loud and warm enough to melt the last bit of space between us. She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I think you mean irresistible.”
She poured us wine.
“Don’t push it.”
I did. Of course I did. Because every second with her felt like standing on a frozen lake, just waiting for the crack.
“So,” I said, nodding at her wine glass. “You going to tell me why you keep looking at me like that?”
She froze mid-sip. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to figure out how much trouble I’m worth.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Maybe I already have.”
“And?”
Her eyes lifted to mine, steady and unblinking. “Maybe you’re the kind of trouble I shouldn’t want.”
I grinned. “But you do.”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
Her lips parted just slightly, and that was all the invitation I needed. I leaned across the table, the candle flickering between us. For a heartbeat, she didn’t move.
Finally, she met me halfway, her mouth finding mine with the same mix of defiance and need that defined her every move.
The kiss started slow—soft, testing, the taste of lemon and wine still on her lips. But then something in both of us gave way. The restraint snapped like it had been waiting for the right excuse to fall apart.
Her chair scraped back as she stood, her hands tangling in my shirt. I rose with her, the kiss deepening, turning hungry. She tasted like everything I’d been missing for months—salt and sweetness and the heat of something that wasn’t safe but was absolutely worth the risk.
My hands slid to her waist, then her back, then lower, pulling her closer. She gasped against my mouth, and that sound nearly did me in. The table bumped against my hip, the candle flickered, but I didn’t care. The world could’ve been burning outside, and I’d have still been right there, lost in her.
She broke away just long enough to whisper, breathless, “You’re… supposed to be eating.”
And then she snuffed out the candle, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“I am,” I murmured against her jaw, and she laughed, a low, shaky sound that dissolved into a sigh when I kissed the curve of her neck.
Her fingers fisted in my shirt, tugging me closer. “Drew…”
“Yeah?” I said, my voice rougher than I meant.
“This is…” She trailed off, her eyes darting between mine and my mouth. “We shouldn’t—”
“We already are,” I said, and kissed her again before logic could catch up.
It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t slow. It was months of missed calls and half-truths, and every look we’d traded in Reckless River exploding all at once. Her back hit the counter, and I braced a hand beside her, deepening the kiss until she made a sound that nearly undid me.
