The drive to Wolf's apartment took five minutes. Should have taken longer for a decision this big, but I was tired of overthinking. Tired of being careful. Tired of living in my father's shadow.
The exterior stairs up to his apartment felt steeper than they should. My knock sounded too loud in the quiet evening. For a moment, I considered running, but then the door opened.
Wolf stood there in worn jeans and nothing else, chest bare, still with beads of water on him like he'd just showered. The sight of him—all that ink over muscle, the surprisedvulnerability in his expression—made my carefully planned words evaporate.
"I overreacted," I blurted out.
He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. The gesture made his biceps flex, and I had to force myself to maintain eye contact. "Did you?"
"Yes. That night, after... I panicked. Said things I didn't mean."
"Which things?" His voice was carefully neutral. "The part where it was a mistake? Or where it could never happen again?"
"All of it." I took a breath, forcing myself to be brave. "I've spent my whole life being who my father expects me to be. The perfect daughter. The by-the-book deputy. But that's not... that's not all I am."
"No?"
"No." I met his gaze, letting him see the truth. "I'm also the woman who's been thinking about you for three weeks. Who can't sleep because she keeps remembering how you felt. Who saw you with Mrs. Cook today and wanted to—" I stopped, heat flooding my face.
"Wanted to what?"
"Kiss you. Right there on Main Street. In uniform. In front of everyone." The admission came out in a rush. "I wanted to thank you for being kind to her. I wanted to apologize for being cold. I wanted... you. I just wanted you."
Something shifted in his expression, walls coming down inch by inch. "And now?"
"Now I'm here." I gestured between us. "Standing at your door, asking if you'll let me in. Not for one night. Not to get you out of my system. But because I'm tired of being careful. Tired of following rules that don't make sense. Tired of pretending I don't feel this."
"Feel what?"
I took a step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his bare chest. "Like I can't breathe right when you're not around. Like the past three days have been the longest of my life. Like maybe being reckless with you is worth more than being safe without you."
His hand came up to cup my face, thumb stroking across my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. "You sure about this? Because I can't do the back and forth, Quinn. I can't have you then lose you again."
"I'm sure." I leaned into his touch, my own hand coming up to cover his. "I'm choosing this. Choosing you. Even if it's complicated. Even if my father loses his mind. Even if the whole town talks."
"They will talk."
"Let them."
He studied me for a long moment, those blue eyes searching mine. Whatever he found there must have satisfied him because he stepped back, pulling me inside with him.
His apartment was exactly what I'd expected—sparse but clean, motorcycle parts on a workbench in the corner, leather jacket thrown over a chair.
"Want a drink?" he asked, moving toward the kitchen area.
"No."
He turned back, eyebrow raised.
"I didn't come here for a drink, Wolf."
"Then what did you come for?"
I crossed to him, stopping just out of reach. "To be reckless. To stop thinking. To let myself want something my father would hate." I paused, then admitted the deeper truth. "To be with the only person who makes me feel like myself again."
His control snapped. His mouth crashed into mine, but it was different from the desperate heat in the cruiser. This was deliberate, thorough, like he was memorizing the taste of me.His hands tangled in my hair, angling my head for better access, tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that made me weak.
I pressed closer, needing to feel him against me, and he groaned into my mouth. His hands slid down to my waist, lifting me easily, and I wrapped my legs around him on instinct.
