Page 269 of Rush

I look up.

His green eyes dazzle under the park lights.

His hand comes to my jaw—then slides, firm and sure, just beneath my ear, thumb resting along the hinge of my jaw, palm curling slightly around the side of my neck. His grip isn’t rough. But it isn’t light either. It anchors me.

And then he kisses me.

Fireworks. Real ones. Behind my eyes, across my skin. My knees nearly give. Everything in me snaps to life. His mouth moves slowly—kissing not to take, but to give.

Like he wants me tofeelit.

And I do. Everywhere.

We’ve kissed before. Messy. Heated. Desperate.

But this?—

This is quiet devastation. This should have always been our first kiss.

It feels like something shifting beneath the surface. Like it did on New Year’s Eve—something my heart’s known long before my mind ever caught up.

When we pull apart, the world doesn’t feel the same.

His thumb lingers against my jaw, still barely touching. My hands are still inside his coat. I haven’t moved.

Neither has he.

The kiss sits between us.

But neither of us says a word.

Broderick lets out a slow breath, forehead resting against mine for a beat.

“You good?” he murmurs.

“Yeah.”

He smiles like he doesn’t believe me, then nods toward the hulking shape ahead.

“Come on. Time to scream.”

I blink. “What?”

He tugs my hand. “Cyclone. Let’s go.”

My brain’s still tangled in that kiss, but my body follows. The metal groans under our feet as we climb the steps, the wind slicing across my flushed cheeks.

We slide into the car and pull the bar down. My legs barely work. I can still feel the press of his hand on my neck, the way his lips opened something I didn’t know I was guarding. My skin buzzes like I’ve swallowed live wire.

Broderick says nothing.

Just looks at me and grins.

“Still not scared?”

I can’t answer.

The park blinks in soft neon as we crawl up the first hill. The wind’s sharper here, slicing through the haze he’s left me in.