Page 116 of Can You Take It?

“That’s what I thought,” he says, and I hate that his voice is filled with resignation. The silence between us is deafening. Neither of us speaks. The only noise is the persistent buzzing of his phone on the table.

“You probably should get that.”

“How many times has it gone off?” he asks, nodding toward the buzzing phone.

“I stopped counting after five.”

“Who’s calling me?” he asks suspiciously.

“It’s Wilson,” I reply. “Why the hell does he keep calling you?”

“Well, you did leave me a crime scene,” he says, exasperated. “Has it always been this effortless for you to kill someone?”

“It was a first, actually.”

“How many people have you killed?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I walk toward him. I straddle his lap, my knees digging into the worn mattress on either side of him. His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move.

“Stay out of trouble, Richard,” I warn. “Next time, I won’t be around to save your ass.”

He opens his mouth, probably to ask what the hell I mean, but I cut him off with a kiss. I expected him to push me away, to react with the righteous anger I’m so used to from him. Instead, he pulls me closer. His hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back slightly as he deepens the kiss.

Between the kisses his voice slips out. “Come with me, and I’ll dismantle the system that turned us into enemies.”

“Richard,” I warn, pulling back slightly, but he doesn’t let me go. His hand grips my waist, hard enough to bruise, like he’s afraid if he lets me loose, I’ll vanish for good.

“I’d be their villain if I have to,” he murmurs between kisses, sealing the promise with every word. “But I’ll never be yours.” His lips move to my jaw, then my neck, grazing my skin as if he’s marking his territory, and it’s making it harder to think, to breathe.

“You have to let me go. You hate disappointing people, remember?” I continue. “You’ve spent your whole life playing by their rules, chasing people like me. Don’t act like you’re ready to throw it all away just because I’ve got you questioning everything.”

“I’d disappoint the entire goddamn world before I ever let you go,” he growls. His breath is ragged, his grip on me unyielding, and fuck, I can’t decide if I should push him off or pull him closer.

I yank back, just enough to look at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re worth every disappointment.”

My throat tightens, and I don’t know what to say, what to do with those words, with the way he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing that matters.

Thankfully I don't have to respond because his mouth crashes back onto mine. It’s hard, desperate, full of everything we can’t say. His hands roam over my body like he’s memorizing every inch, every curve, as if this is the last time he’ll ever touch me. Maybe it is.

I try to pull back, but he’s not having it. His other hand grips my waist, holding me in place.

“What am I supposed to do with you?” he growls against my lips.

I break the kiss, breathless. “Maybe you should search me, arrest me, or cuff me.”

He chuckles darkly. “You're making it sound very tempting.”

He pulls me back into the kiss, rougher this time. I can taste the anger, the frustration, and something deeper, something that scares me.

The logical part of my brain is screaming at me to stop, but my body’s responding in ways I can’t control. His hand leaves my waist, sliding up my back.

I can’t let myself get distracted. With a steady hand, I reach for the syringe in my back pocket. While his lips crush against mine, I manage to slip the needle into his skin.

For a moment, he doesn’t react, lost in the kiss. But then his grip on me starts to loosen, and his movements become sluggish. He pulls away, confusion clouding his eyes.

“Wait,” he rasps, instinctively reaching for his neck where the sting of the needle lingers. “What—”

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