Page 56 of California Wild

And now it was standing right in front of him.

Chapter 8

Hayley should’ve turned around. Walked back out the front door. Called a cab. Drenched her face in cold water until the heat simmering under her skin finally cooled.

But her body wouldn’t listen.

He looked like something out of a fever dream—half-propped on his elbows, sheets bunched low on his hips, muscles carved by moonlight, watching her like she was the ghost he hadn’t been able to outrun.

Like he wasn’t sure she was real.

She wasn’t sure either.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. Her breath came too fast. She could still taste the gin on her tongue, feel the pulse of band practice echoing in her bloodstream.

And then—

He reached for her.

Rough hands on her waist. A sudden yank.

A gasp broke from her lips as her body collided with his, chest to chest, heat to heat, all tangled limbs and unfinished business.

The air left her lungs.

The room spun sideways.

He smelled like mint and heat and the faint echo of him that still haunted her pillows, and she hated how familiar it all felt.

Her hands landed flat against his chest. Solid. Warm. Real.

His heartbeat thudded against her palm.

Steady.

Hard.

As wrecked as hers.

He didn’t say anything. Just stared at her like he’d never stopped. Like he couldn’t.

His jaw clenched. His fingers dug in tighter at her hips, and she felt the tension ripple through him.

Like he was trying to hold something back.

Like he was losing.

“Jesse…”

Her voice broke on his name.

Too soft. Too raw. Too full of everything she didn’t want to feel.

She should’ve pulled away.

Should’ve reminded him that this was a mistake. That he had pushed her away—over and over and over.

But instead—

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