The admission hung between us. She knew why. The same reason she had shadows under her eyes, the same reason her uniform looked like she'd been fidgeting with it all shift.
"Wolf—"
"Don't." I cut her off. "Whatever excuse or reason or logic you're about to throw at me, just don't. I'm too tired and too wound up to hear it again."
"I wasn't going to make excuses."
"No?"
She shook her head, taking another step closer. "I was going to say I haven't been sleeping either."
The words hit me like a punch. Three weeks of this dance, and she was finally admitting what we both knew.
"Quinn—"
"I tried staying away," she said quietly. "This whole week, I tried. Took different routes. Changed my shifts. But you're everywhere anyway. In my head. Under my skin. I can't—" Her voice cracked. "I can't stop wanting you."
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"You think I feel any differently?” The words came out rougher than intended. "You think I haven't been going crazy? I've beaten my heavy bag until my knuckles bled. I've ridden hundreds of miles trying to outrun this. Nothing works. Nothing makes it stop."
We stood there on that dark mountain road, everything finally laid bare. No more pretense. No more denials. Just the truth that had been killing us both.
"This is such a bad idea," she whispered, but she was already moving closer.
"The worst," I agreed, backing her against the cruiser.
"My father will lose his mind."
"Probably."
"The whole town will talk."
"Definitely."
"I could lose my job."
"You won't." My hands came up to frame her face, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones. "But even if you did, would it be worth it to stop feeling like this? To stop wanting something you can't have?"
She looked up at me, and I saw the exact moment she broke.
"Yes."
The word was barely out before I crashed my mouth onto hers.
Three weeks of foreplay disguised as antagonism exploded into pure need. She kissed me back with equal desperation, hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. Her tongue swept into my mouth, and I groaned, pressing her harder against the cruiser.
She tasted like everything I'd been craving. My hands tangled in her hair, pins scattering as I freed it from the bun. Dark waves spilled over my fingers, and she made a sound that went straight to my cock.
"Been wanting to do that since the traffic stop," I muttered against her lips.
"Shut up and kiss me again."
I did, deeper this time, one hand gripping her hip while the other cradled her jaw. She arched against me, and I could feel her trembling—not from cold this time.
My mouth traveled down her throat, finding that spot below her ear that made her gasp. Her hands slid under my shirt, nails raking across my abs, and my control started to splinter.
"Fuck, Quinn?—"
