Page 50 of Dirty Fighter

Not. Enough.

I pull her closer. Kiss her harder.

I need to feel the beating of her heart against my own, to taste the sweetness of her lips. I need her breath, rushing warm against my jaw, my neck, my mouth again and again and again.

I need to feel her beneath me, alive and unharmed and…

Safe.

Here.

Her knee shifts against my thigh, bringing me closer, letting me hold her tighter, giving me⁠—

Her breath catches in a pained gasp that ricochets through this head-to-toe connection between us.

“Christ, Rowan.” I jerk away, shoving hands through my hair as the cold reality of what just happened kicks in the door. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

I’ve lost my damn mind, because there is no sane explanation for the way I’m devouring this woman with my mouth… on the ground… in the dirt and rain… minutes or maybe only seconds after a life-endangering experience.

“What?” She pushes up on her hands, peering at me with dazed eyes, kiss-swollen lips I never should have touched, and the muddy marks of my fingers on her cheeks and neck. “No, it’s my leg. I think maybe…”

I follow her eyes down to where she’s pulling her jeans away from her thigh.

“Rowan.” My gut hollows out at the two-inch hole in the denim, and beneath… blood.

“I think it’s just a— Jason!” she squeaks as I slip my arms under her legs and around her back, pushing up to carry her inside.

She’s hurt.

Not okay.

Bleeding, and she didn’t even notice. Because she’s in shock.

And I’m putting a damn move on her.

I should have made Rowan leave the minute she said this place belonged to her mom. Grabbed her bags and told Bruce to call the sheriff if she didn’t get on board with him.

I shouldn’t have let Marsha’s call spin me up.

I shouldn’t have locked that door.

I shouldn’t have let my guard down last night.

I shouldn’t have brought her out with me this morning.

And no matter how fucking bad she scared me, no matter how fucking relieved I was that she was okay… I never, ever should have kissed her.

I can’t believe I kissed her.

What the hell was I thinking?

Answer: I wasn’t.

Rational Jason left the building when a downed limb twice the size of my SUV and with more spear-style branches than a medieval torture chamber started falling on her.

And that fear— Christ.

Something just snapped, and I was running on nothing but adrenaline-fueled instinct.