Maybe I’m just desperate for that smile to be because ofme.
“Make a wish, darlin’.”
Georgia’s eyes go wide, then glassy. A myriad of emotions flash across her face, ones I’m not prepared for. Shock, sadness, something that looks a lot like hope.
Her gaze drifts to the lash and her lids flutter closed. One heartbeat is all it takes before she’s leaning forward, lips pursed, and gently blowing the lash away, the ghost of a smile gracing her pretty face.
When her eyes slowly flutter open and lock on mine, a single tear is ghosting down her pale cheek, blending into the pre-storm dew.
“Fuck it,” she chokes out.
And then, God help me, Georgia Walker’s mouth crashes into mine.
It’s soft, sweet—like something holy.
For a heartbeat, I freeze. My body’s locked with the shock of it, adrenaline pounding so hard I see stars. But that single breath, that first inhale of her, snaps the world into motion.
My hand flies to her jaw, gripping gently but firm, holding her exactly where I want her. Where I’ve wanted her since the second she stormed into my life, full of fire and fury and the kind of hurt I know too damn well. My other arm cinches tight around her waist, anchoring her to me in the saddle, chest to chest, heart to goddamn heart.
She tastes like rain and wind and whatever the hell joy must feel like in your mouth.
Her hands are everywhere she can reach at the awkward angle—fisting in my jacket, tugging my hair, digging into my thighs like she’s trying to climb inside my skin.
It's wild and messy and a little unhinged—and Christ, it’s perfect.
The horse shifts beneath us, but neither of us flinch. We’re locked in, consumed and completely lost.
I lick into her mouth, claiming her the way I’ve dreamed about for weeks, and she whimpers, soft and needy, and fuck if that sound doesn’t short-circuit my brain. I kiss her like she’s oxygen. Like this is the only chance I’ll ever get, because maybe it is.
Because in a few months, she still might walk away.
Because I sure as hell don’t deserve her—but God, I want her anyway.
She kisses like it means something. Like it’s not just heat, but hope. Like every flick of her tongue is a secret, and every brush of her lips is a confession she’ll never say out loud.
My hand slides from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her damp curls. My forehead drops to hers, both of us breathing like we’ve just survived a war.
“Baby,” I rasp, voice torn to shreds. I bite her bottom lip, pull it between my teeth, suck hard because I can’t not. “Christ, darlin’. I’m not gonna survive you, am I?”
She goes still.
Then she jolts back—taking her warmth, her sweetness, and the entire damn world with her.
My eyes snap open. Hers follow a second later.
And just like that… she’s gone.
Not physically. She’s still on this damn horse, still close enough to touch. But the girl I kissed, the one I’m stupidly falling for, has vanished. And in her place is that icy mask I fuckin’ hate.
“This…” She shakes her head, pale and shaken, refusing to meet my eyes. “This can’t happen.”
“Hate to break it to you,” I say, jaw ticking, heart pounding, “but it already did.”
“Well, it was a mistake.”
“The hell it was.”
Her gaze finally locks with mine—and it’s the pain in it, the sheer terror, that shuts me the fuck up.
