Page 126 of California Wild

His hands came up, slow, steady—wrapping around her wrists, thumbs brushing over the inside of her pulse. Anchoring her.

“Still me,” he said, voice low, rough.

“I know,” she murmured. “That’s why it scares me.”

Because if this was real—if he was real—then this wasn’t just a second chance.

It was something entirely new.

And it meant everything.

Which meant it could all fall apart.

Her eyes searched his in the dark. “I never knew this version of you.”

Jesse’s jaw ticked. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Then show me.”

A beat.

His breath caught.

“Tonight,” she added, softer now, but firmer too. A dare. A promise. A plea.

And something in him gave out.

Because she was too close, too real, too much of everything he’d ever wanted and never believed he could keep. Her hair catching in the wind, her green eyes wide and unguarded, her mouth parted like she needed him to kiss her just as badly as he needed to do it.

He reached for her.

Hand cupping her jaw. Thumb brushing her cheek.

And then—he kissed her.

Slow at first.

Reverent. Careful. Like he couldn’t believe she was letting him.

But when she sighed against his mouth and pressed into him—when her hands slid up his chest and into his hair—something shifted.

The kiss deepened.

Heat poured between them.

Not frantic. Not rushed.

Just… inevitable.

Like gravity.

Like two bodies colliding in space after drifting too far, too long.

Her fingers curled at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, anchoring herself. He let her. Let her take what she needed. Let himself take it, too.

By the time they broke apart, her breath was shaky, her skin flushed, her lips kiss-bruised and parted.

She didn’t say anything.

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