Solid as a damn boulder. Unflinching at my attempts to put some distance between us.
He takes every hit like I’m weightless.
And it breaks something in me.
I keep pushing, keep thrashing, even as my limbs start to falter, the fire in my veins burns out and the sobs rise to take its place.
Then it hits—like a wave I can’t outrun.
Tears streak down my cheeks, catching at the corners of my mouth, tightening my throat until I’m choking on them.
Because I’m not in control. Not anymore.
And he’s still standing there.
Still there.
Watching me fall apart.
He’s so close, I can feel the heat of him before I see him move.
The moment my fury stutters—just long enough to drag in a breath—he presses forward, one hand sliding up to wrap around my throat. Not tight. Just enough pressure to freeze my thoughts, to remind me who holds the reins.
I flinch. Not from pain, but from memory—body bracing for a strike that never lands.
But instead of violence, it’s heat that follows.
He rips off the balaclava, hair mussed and sweat clinging to his skin from tonight’s activities. Then his mouth crashes against mine—harder, hungrier than the other night. There’s no hesitation. No apology. Just need.
Teeth rake over my lower lip, a sharp bite tempered with the threat of something darker. Something I couldn’t handle even if I wanted to.
And God help me, part of mewantsto.
But I can’t. Not now. Not when every inch of this is a warning dressed as a kiss.
“We can’t,” I say, firm—commanding, or at least trying to be.
But he doesn’t even flinch.
“Don’t tell me what I can’t do, Nell.”
Then he’s on me—his body pressing mine back into the wall, one hand anchoring me in place while his mouth begins its slow, maddening descent to my throat. The contact is rough. Unapologetic. Enough to sting.
But what hurts more is what I have to say next.
“I’m not Kyla, Cameron.” The words break between us, soft and sharp all at once. “And I never will be.”
That stills him.
His gaze lifts to mine—and there’s something volatile behind it. Not anger. Not exactly. Something darker. Protective. Possessive.
“I don’t want to be someone’s second choice,” I whisper. “I want to be chosen. For once.”
My heart hammers in my chest as a maddening silence spreads between us. For a moment, I think I’ve broken it. Brokenus. I expect him to back off. Walk away. Let the truth speak louder than the heat.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he throws me completely.
