"Grant." Her voice has gone soft. Uncertain. "What are we doing?"
"I don't know that either."
"We should stop."
"Yeah."
The tension that's been building since yesterday snaps like a bull rope under too much strain. All the fear and adrenaline and rage finding an outlet that's got nothing to do with Tyler or what we're chasing and everything to do with the fact that we're alive and standing too close and both of us are tired of being careful.
I release her wrist. Take a step back. "You should take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor."
"Grant."
"What?"
She closes the distance I just created. "I don't want you to sleep on the floor."
The implication hits me like a fist to the chest. "Rainey. We can't."
"Why not?"
"Because this is complicated. Because we're neck-deep in figuring out who killed Tyler. Because getting involved is the worst possible idea for both of us."
"I know." Her hand comes up to my chest, palm flat over my heart. "But I also know someone just destroyed everything I own and told me I'm next if I don't back down. And right now, I don't want to be careful or smart or strategic. I just want to feel something other than afraid."
I should be the responsible one. Should tell her we're not doing this. Should remember that using each other to forget how scared we are is a terrible foundation for anything.
But I'm not feeling responsible. I'm feeling desperate. And angry. And so goddamn tired of pretending I'm fine when I'm not.
"Tell me to stop," I say.
"Make me."
That's all it takes.
I back her against the wall, one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her hip. She doesn't flinch. Doesn't look away. Just tilts her chin up and waits for me to close the distance.
When I kiss her, it's not gentle. Nothing about this is gentle. It's rough and desperate and claiming, my mouth on hers like I'm trying to prove something neither of us can articulate.
She kisses me back just as hard, hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. Her teeth catch my lower lip and I groan into her mouth.
"Grant." My name sounds different in her voice. Raw. Needy. "Please."
"Please what?"
"Stop thinking. Just. For five minutes. Stop thinking and make me forget everything except this."
I can do that.
I slide my hands under her shirt, find bare skin, and she arches into my touch. Her body's warm and soft and everything I shouldn't want but can't stop touching.
"Tell me no," I say against her mouth. "Tell me to stop and I will."
"Don't stop."
"Are you on anything?" I ask, because even now, even with everything falling apart, some things still matter.
"IUD." Her fingers dig into my shoulders. "You clean?"
