Page 71 of Heavy Crown

Her jaw tightens, and she straightens. “Well, I have great news for you. There’s no need for you to care. I didn’t ask you to care.” She points toward the door, and her hand shakes. “You can leave.”

“I’m not leaving until you explain to me what tonight was all about.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation. We can’t be together. You’ve been very clear about that.”

My heart pounds, and I close the distance between us. “You want me to leave?”

She doesn’t meet my gaze.

“Tell me why you went on a date with Derrick. To make me jealous?” I peer down at her, willing her to make eye contact.

When she finally stares up at me, her expression brims with frustration. “What do you want, Alex? You tell me we can’t be together, but then you buy me an expensive birthday present. You tell me we can’t be together, and then you kiss me. You agree we shouldn’t see each other as much anymore, and then you take me horseback riding. You don’t want me, but no one else is allowed either?”

“Not him,” I grit out. “Anyone but him.”

“Really?” She cocks her head and defiance radiates off her. “Anyone?”

We’re inches apart, and she’s goading me into doing something I’ll likely regret. As angry as I am, I’ve got one last string of sense tethering me.

“You want me to find someone else? Be with someone else?” Her voice is husky, but the challenge is there.

“No.” The word is ripped out of me, tearing the final tie to common sense. “God help me, no.” And then I’m kissing her, long and deep.

She folds into me, and her hands bunch my T-shirt. The scent of vanilla and sugar swirls around me, addictive, delicious.

I can’t—I shouldn’t. With a superhuman effort, I wrench myself away. “Rory, I—”

She rises onto her toes, draws me toward her, and kisses me again. There’s no question I’m kissing her back, willing to take anything she’ll give me. A crumb from her is better than a five-course meal with anyone else.

Anyone else. My mind strays to Simone. I can’t. I can’t. This is wrong. I break away from Rory and stumble back.

“I can’t,” I say. “We—”

“I swear if you tell me one more time we can’t be together, you might as well walk out that door and never come back.” She points to the exit, and there’s so much passion in the proclamation that I realize she means it. She’ll banish me from her life.

The ultimatum is a spray of cold water on the fire between us, and I run my hand through my hair. “You don’t understand,” I say.

She closes the distance I put between us. “Do you want to be with me?”

The question is torture. If only my life were so simple. “You’re twenty-three. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. I’ll ruin you. I’ll ruin you, and I’ll never forgive myself.”

She frames my face with her small hands. “I’m old enough to know what I feel. Let us have this. I’m not asking for forever. I’ll never ask for what you can’t give. I understand our limits. But we can have right now. We can have this.”

My heart pounds in my ears. She makes whatever happens next sound so easy. Possible instead of impossible. If I don’t ruin her, she’ll definitely ruin me. “We’re going to destroy each other,” I mutter.

“If you’re going to drag me to hell, at least give me heaven first,” she whispers.

I search her face for one more beat. Wrong. So wrong. But I can’t deny the gut feeling urging me to suck this vein of happiness dry. To take this moment and hope the memory of it will be enough for the years to come. She may never speak to me again after Nick and Julia’s wedding.

“You’re sure this is what you want? Rory, I can’t—”

Before the rest of the warning can leave my lips, she kisses me with the same fevered intensity as before. Except this time, there’s no hesitation about the direction we’re headed. This is our path, to heaven and then to hell. Our course is set. There’s no turning back.

My T-shirt comes over my head, and she pushes my sweatpants down to a heap on the floor. I map her body with my palms, and I step out of my sweats. The zipper on her dress is a magnet to my fingers, and as I tug it down, I trail kisses along her exposed neck.

She drops her shoulders, and the dress falls to her waist. With my fingertips, I trace the line of her waist before encouraging the dress over her hips, so it pools at her feet. I draw back to take her in. She’s exquisite. There is only one Rory. Whatever this connection is between us, I’ve been around long enough to understand it’s rare. Volcanic lightning. Beautiful and dangerous. My life will never be the same, and instead of stepping away from the edge of disaster, I’m free-falling over, welcoming the chaos with outstretched arms.

Take me, Rory. I’m yours.