Page 84 of No Good Fight

The quiet after that feels different from the other silences between us. Less fragile. More honest. Her gaze drops to my mouth, then lifts again, and the fear in my chest tangles with heat so fast I nearly reach for the counter again.

Alex notices. “You’re doing that thing where you decide wanting me is part of the crisis.”

My pulse kicks. “Isn’t it?”

“No.” She steps into the inch I left between us. “Not for me.”

I lift my hand to her face, giving her plenty of time to stop me. She doesn’t. Her cheek is warm against my palm, and her eyes close for one short breath before she opens them again and looks straight at me.

I kiss her because she’s asking me to without saying the words, and because I’m not strong enough to keep pretending I don’t understand.

She comes up on her toes, one hand fisting in the front of my shirt. The kiss starts hard and turns harder when she makes a sound against my mouth that goes straight through my body. I back her into the counter and catch myself before my weight pins her there, but Alex pulls me closer like the space offends her.

“Ryder,” she says against my mouth, frustrated and breathless.

My hand slides to her waist. Her sweater bunches beneath my fingers, soft fabric and the shape of her under it, and every bad hour of the day crashes into the relief of having her here. Safe. Warm. Touching me because she wants to.

I lift her onto the counter.

Alex’s knees part around my hips, and my control nearly snaps because my body is pressed directly against the heat of her core.

I freeze with my hands on her waist and my forehead against hers, breathing like I ran all the way home instead of drove. “We need to stop.”

Her fingers tighten in my shirt. “No, we don’t.”

“I’m not thinking clearly.”

“I am.”

I pull back enough to see her face. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright, mouth swollen from mine. She looks turned on, irritated, and completely aware of what she is asking for.

That makes all of this harder.

“You had a hell of a day,” I say.

“So did you.”

“Alex.”

“Don’t use my name like I’m being unreasonable.” She lets go of my shirt and sets both hands flat on the counter beside her thighs. The movement puts distance between us without her climbing down, and I hate that I caused it. “I’m not trying to use sex as a panic button. I’m not confusing you with safety because Preston scared me today. I wanted you before the article bullshit at the office. I wanted you before the report I had to file. I want you right now because you’re you, and I’m tired of you treating this whole thing like I’m not in control of my own thoughts and mind and what I fucking want.”

My chest tightens until breathing feels like work that isn’t worth it.

She’s right. Not about all of it, maybe, but enough to have me questioning not only myself but my decisions too.

“I don’t want to make something worse for you,” I say.

“You’re making me feel like my wanting you can’t be trusted.”

That one guts me.

I step back, not far, but enough that she can get down if she wants to. “That’s not what I want.”

“I know.” Her voice softens, which somehow hurts more. “But it’s what keeps happening. You’re trying to be noble at the same time that you’re telling me about your obsession, your want, your complete desire of me. But you’re not giving me the choice to show you that it’s a two way street.”

The refrigerator hums behind us. Rain ticks against the window. Alex looks down at her hands, then slides off the counter before I can help her. I let her, even though every part of me wants to put my hands back on her and fix the thing I just fucked up.

She smooths her sweater over her hips and takes a breath. “You’re not going to sleep tonight.”