Page 33 of Final Drive

“If you walk out that door,” Margot says, “don’t expect us to⁠—”

“To what?” I turn back. “Cut her off? Disown her?”

Margot says nothing.

“You’ve made it perfectly clear what matters to you.” I look at Reese. “Come on.”

I don’t wait for the answer. We walk out through the dining room, past the quiet tables and the turning heads, and the valet has my car at the door inside two minutes.

Neither of us speaks until the club lights have disappeared from the mirror.

“Pull over,” Reese says.

“What?”

“Please.”

There’s a turnoff a mile on, a small overlook above the city. I put the car in park and leave the engine running. She’s crying, not sobbing, just tears going down her face while she swipes at them like they’ve personally offended her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have⁠—”

“Don’t apologize.” She laughs, wetly. “God, don’t apologize. That was the most incredible thing anybody has ever done for me.”

“They were hurting you. I don’t tolerate that.”

“I know.” She turns to look at me with her mascara ruined. “That’s what makes it incredible.”

The city sits below us doing its impression of scattered glass. I give her time to wipe her face, though I don’t think either of us is ready to go back yet.

“I should tell you something,” I say. “About what I want from this.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t experience attraction the way most people seem to. Sex isn’t a priority for me. It isn’t that I can’t or don’t. It’s that it’s never the first thing I’m thinking about, and it has never once been the thing driving me.”

She waits, which I appreciate more than she knows.

“I’ve been with people. It was fine. Pleasant. I never understood why everyone made such an enormous production of it.” I look at the steering wheel. “Until you.”

“Until me?”

“The night of your heat. At dinner, when Beckett and I had our hands on you under the table.” I make myself turn my head. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About the sounds you made and the way your body answered. I’ve never wanted to be close to somebody the way I want to be close to you, and I find it frightening.”

“Tyler.”

“I don’t have a reference point for this.” I take her hand. “I’ve never wanted somebody this way before. But I know I want you, and I want to work out what that means with you.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Her thumb moves once over the side of my hand, and then she unbuckles her seatbelt and leans across the console.

When she kisses me, I’m ready for it.

I’ve thought about this. I know the mechanics and the technique, but none of it matters when her mouth is on mine, and what I do with my hands has nothing to do with anything I planned. I bring one up to the back of her neck and tilt her head to get deeper into it. She makes a sound against my mouth, and I learn the shape of her lips and what happens when I catch the lower one between my teeth. I do all of it slowly, because I have never in my life done anything by halves.

My other hand finds her waist and pulls her closer despite the console being where it is. When we come apart, we’re both breathing hard.

“Wow,” Reese whispers.

“I don’t do things I’m not prepared to do well.” My voice has gone rough.