“What?”
“She thinks she has control.” The declaration hits heavy between us. My breath catches.
“But,” he adds softly, thumb brushing just slightly higher before stopping, “she doesn’t.”
The room goes very, very quiet. And for the first time all weekend, he doesn’t look like the good guy trying to behave. He looks like a man deciding something, and my hope surges.
My fingers tighten around the book, then loosen as it slips slightly in my lap. Neither of us moves to fix it. “So, take control.” I whisper, my heart thundering under my rib cage.
And he leans in even further. And it’s slow. So very, very slow. His mouth hovers just above mine, so close that if I breathe in too deep, I’ll touch him. And this time? He doesn’t pull back. He stays there. Letting me feel exactly what I’m not getting.
The heat of his next words brushes across my lips, a tease I’m not sure I can resist. “Are you daring me to kiss you, Q?” His voice is low, but controlled in a way that feels anything but safe. “Because you remember my warning about what happens the next time I do.”
My pulse stutters. I should step back. I don’t. “Maybe I am,” I whisper.
That’s all it takes. His control snaps. His mouth is on mine in the next breath, absolutely no hesitation this time, no testing the line. It’s firm, certain, and deeper than before, like he’s done pretending this isn’t inevitable. My hands come up instinctively,fisting in his shirt as I surge into him, closing the space he’s been holding all weekend.
He shifts, one hand sliding from my leg to my waist, tugging me closer, just enough to anchor, not enough to overwhelm. It’s controlled, but barely. I can feel it in the way his fingers tighten, the way his breath catches against mine.
Everything narrows. No couch. No apartment. No logic. Just this. Just him. And the fact that we’ve officially crossed into something neither of us can pretend isn’t real anymore.
He breaks the kiss first, leaning his forehead against mine. “You sure you’re ready for this?” His gaze dark and intense as our breath mixes together. I love that he’s asking permission, but there’s no doubt in my mind I want this.At least in this moment.
My hand slides up the front of his shirt, fisting in the fabric as I close the last inch between us and kiss him again. There is absolutely no doubt about my answer.
He makes a low sound against my mouth, something that feels like approval and restraint snapping at the same time. His talented hands come to life, one bracing at my hip, the other sliding up my side, like he’s been holding back and doesn’t know how to do that anymore.
The kiss deepens. Slower, but heavier. Intentional. My body arches instinctively, turning into him, closing the small bit of space left between us. His grip tightens to yank me closer, and suddenly I’m half in his lap, the book forgotten somewhere between us. This isn’t teasing anymore. This is?—
A sharp, piercing shriek cuts through the room.
Our mouths part and we both freeze. The fire alarm. Loud. Relentless. Impossible to ignore. For a second, neither of us moves. My forehead drops to his, both of us breathing harder than we should be, the moment still pulsing between us like it hasn’t realized it’s over yet.
“Are you kidding me?” I groan. “Is this normal? Can we ignore it?”
Mikey huffs out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but there’s frustration threaded through it. “You’ve got to be?—”
The alarm blares again. Reality crashes back in. He drops his head briefly, like he’s collecting himself, then looks back at me, eyes still dark, still locked in. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Definitely not normal. We should probably make sure the buildings not on fire.”
Unlike us, I can’t help but think. Neither of us moves right away. Because we both know, this didn’t stop anything.
Chapter Seventeen
Mikey
Sweet Heroine
YUNGBLUD
Monday morning comesafter a night that never really settled. A small fire in the first-floor apartment. Someone forgot about something in their oven. The alarm blared through the building, sending everyone outside into the cold for over an hour while the fire department cleared it.
We stood there in the dark with everyone else. I kept my arms around her to try and keep her warm, but we didn’t speak much. But we were very aware of one another.
By the time we were let back in, we were both cold and tired. We said goodnight, and then walked into separate doors down the same hallway like nothing had almost happened. Except now, everything feels like it did.
I wake up before my alarm, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment from last night on a loop. Her voice low,so take control.
The way she looked at me when I leaned in. And even though I was tired when we finally got back into the apartment, my dickached for a solid hour after I shut my door, and it still feels like I’m walking around with live wires under my skin.
