She’s desperate, terrified, and trying to save the people she loves, and calling her stupid would be the cruelest thing I could possibly do.
“Nothing,” I say, but she can see it in my eyes.
“No, you were going to say something,” she presses. “Reckless andwhat, Phoenix?”
I run both hands through my hair, frustration and guilt building in my chest. “Clover, I didn’t mean—”
“You were going to say stupid, weren’t you?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it hits me like a physical blow. “Poor little Clover, too reckless andstupidto make her own decisions.”
“That’s not what I think—”
“Isn’t it, though?”She swipes at her eyes angrily. “God, you’re just like everyone else. Just like Maverick, like the club, like everyone who’s ever looked at me and seen someone who needs to be protected instead of someone who can take care of herself.”
“Clover—”
“I’mnota child,” she shouts. “I’m not some helpless little girl who needs a big, strong man to keep her safe. I’m a grown woman who’s capable of making her own choices. Even if you don’t like them.”
She goes to slap me, and I react instinctively, catching her wrist before her palm can connect with my face.
For a moment, we’re frozen—her hand trapped in mine, both of us breathing hard, staring at each other with a mixture of anger and pain and something else that I don’t want to name.
Then something shifts in the air between us.
The anger is still there, but underneath it is something raw, desperate, and completely combustible. All the fear we’ve been carrying, all the uncertainty, all the terror of loss is boiling over, transforming into something else entirely.
Something dangerous.
I release her wrist and step forward, backing her against theside of the truck.
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t try to move away.
“Ican’tlose you,” I growl, my voice rough with emotion. “Do you understand that? Ican’tfucking lose you,Clover.”
“Phoenix,” she whispers, but I see it in her eyes.
She feels it too.
This thing that’s been building between us since the moment we met.
“I promised him I’d keep you safe,” I continue, my hands bracing against the truck on either side of her. The electricity between us begins to crackle and pop. “But it’s not just about the promise anymore. It’s not just about duty or orders or any of that shit.”
She inhales sharply. “Then what is it about?” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the desert wind.
I look into her eyes, those beautiful green eyes that have been haunting my thoughts. Our breathing hitches as I lean closer to her, but I hesitate, knowing that if I don’t kiss her now, the tension of this moment could escalate again. Bringing up my hand, I gently cup her cheek, my eyes shifting to her delectable lips before she bites down on her bottom lip.
“It’s about this,” I say, my voice rough, already feeling her like a storm in my bloodstream.
And the second the words leave my mouth, we’re already there.
There’s no shock, no hesitation, just the inevitable pull of gravity as I close the last inches and kiss her like I’ve done a few times before, but never like this.
Not with the world on fire around us.
It’s not new. But it is deeper. Fiercer. Messier.
Her mouth meets mine in an instant. It’s as if she’s been waiting for permission to fall apart. She kisses me back, all teeth and tongue. One of her hands slides into my hair, tugging hard,the other fisting in my shirt, dragging me closer like she needs me under her skin.
I don’t hold back.I can’t.My hands dive into her hair, down her back, gripping like I’m trying to ground myself. She melts into it, as if she’s been waiting just as long, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us—no room for guilt, fear, or reason. Just heat and need, and the sharp edge of everything we’ve been too stubborn to say.
