Heat floods through me. “I know.”
That’s all it takes. His mouth is on mine again, slower this time, but somehow more intense, like he’s letting himself feel all of it now instead of holding anything back. His hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck, steadying me as I shift closer, my knee brushing his, my body angling toward his without thinking. Everything narrows. Breath. Heat. Him.
The kiss deepens again, and this time there’s no mistaking where it’s going. My fingers dig into his shirt, grounding, holding, asking without words. He answers. Immediately. His hand slides to my waist, tugging me closer, anchoring me against him like he’s not letting me second-guess this.
And then, he pulls back. Not far. Just enough. Forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathing hard now. “Yeah,” he exhales, voice low, rough around the edges. “We’re not finishing this in a car.”
A small breathless laugh slips out of me. “No?”
His thumb drags slowly along my jaw, eyes still locked on mine. “Not when I’ve been this patient.”
My stomach flips hard at that.
“So,” he tilts his head, a hint of something dangerous creeping into his expression now, “we going upstairs or are you planning on torturing me a little longer?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Mikey
Wicked Games
RAIGN
The walkfrom the car to the apartment feels different. Same sidewalk. Same building. Same city noise humming around us. But everything feels sharper somehow.
Her shoulder brushes mine once as we walk, and the contact sends a quiet jolt through me that has nothing to do with adrenaline and everything to do with the fact thatsheasked me to kiss her.
I unlock the door and hold it open for her. She steps inside first, glancing back at me with a small smile that feels almost shy. The door clicks shut behind us, and for a second neither of us moves. The apartment is quiet.
The air feels charged; not heavy, just aware. Like we both know something shifted in that car and we’re standing right on the edge of whatever comes next. She sets her bag down slowly, fingers lingering on the strap before she releases it. I watch as she sets my keys on the counter, suddenly hyperaware of every sound.
I turn my body towards her. She peers up at me under her lashes. The softness in her expression hits harder than the kiss did.
I take a slow breath. “You good?”
A small nod. Her smile flickers. “Yep.”
Silence stretches between us, warm and a little uncertain. I step closer without really thinking about it. Close enough to feel her warmth. Close enough that the memory of her mouth against mine comes rushing back.
My hand lifts, hesitating for half a second before brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath catches softly. Everything in me wants to kiss her again. To slam my mouth against hers and take everything I’ve been craving from her for weeks. But this feels bigger than that. This isn’t something I rush. Not with her.
She takes a tiny step closer, hand resting lightly against my chest. I can feel the heat of her palm through my shirt. My heartbeat kicks harder. “You’re being awfully quiet,” she murmurs.
I huff a soft laugh. “Trying to do this the way you deserve.”
Her smile widens, something warm and vulnerable in it. “Just kiss me.”
I lean down, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to her mouth. No rush. No urgency. Just the quiet confirmation that this is real. When we pull apart, she doesn’t move away. Instead, she looks up at me, and her gaze is steady and certain. She slides a hand down my arm until her fingers link with mine and starts walking backward toward the hallway.
My pulse jumps. She’s leading me. I follow, but halfway there I pause, tugging her gently to a stop. “Quinn?”
She looks up.
“Are you sure?”
No hesitation this time. She nods, lip caught briefly between her teeth, eyes steady on mine. “Uh-huh.”
Something inside me settles. I squeeze her hand lightly and let her guide me the rest of the way. She stops outside my bedroom door, glancing back once like she’s checking that I’m still here. I am. Nothing’s moving me. She steps inside, and I follow her in.
