“Hush. I’m not.”
I slam my mouth onto hers again, tongue slipping past her lips in a dance that saysfuck tomorrow. I haven’t said the words yet, but I’llshowher what she means to me.
Then she moans my name.
“Wyck…”
And I swear it hits me harder than any punch I’ve ever taken.
I want to take her right here. In my truck. Against the house. On top of those pristine porch steps. But I pull back.
Not yet.
“No. You need to go back inside and finish what was started.”
She looks past me, toward the door. Her expression dims. “I was going to run,” she confesses.
I stiffen.
“Run? From what, me? Us?”
“I couldn’t handle it. Everything they said. It felt like too much.”
I grip her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Nothing is too broken to fix.”
I kiss her forehead, gentle for once, then hold out my hand. “Give me your phone.”
She fishes it out from between her tits.
“The password is nine-nine-two-five,” she murmurs.
I freeze mid-tap. My name.
That’smy fucking name.
“You made your password my name?” I ask, stunned.
“Yes.”
I stare at her. Stupidly. Completely gone for this girl who used to belong to my father and now fuckingbelongs to me.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t almost throw her over my shoulder and take her right back to the truck.
But I don’t.
Because for once, I’m thinking with the right head. And the war hasn’t even started yet.
“Athens.”
She pauses, turns toward me. “Yes?”
I should say something. Anything. But the words lock in my throat like they're afraid of being heard.
So instead, I take her phone, still warm from where it rested against her skin, and type in my name and number. I hit save, hand it back.
“Here.”
She smirks, eyes gleaming as she slides the phone right back into her bra like it belongs there. Everything about her saysmine, and it does something vicious to my self-control.
