Page 29 of Born to Run Back
“Jesus, Wendy,” he rasped against my mouth. “I want to take you home. I want to taste your skin with my mouth. I want to learn every sound you make when you come for me.”
“Yes,” I whispered, holding onto him as if gravity had already let go. “Please. Take me.”
We kissed like the world was ending, like the sky was splitting open above us and time had started to unravel by the seams. There was nothing gentle about it anymore; it was fierce, almost violent, like we were trying to memorize the shape of each other’s mouths before the earth crumbled at our feet. His lips moved with mine with a hunger that tasted like panic, like heartbreak, like goodbye.
Even though I knew this wasn’t goodbye, I could still feel the quake of his breath, the tremor in his hands, as if kissing me was the only thing keeping him tethered to this moment. And I kissed him back with everything I had, because if the world really was ending, I wanted this to be the last thing I felt—the heat, the chaos, the impossible need of him.
Hands over fabric, teeth grazing skin, kissing until there were no breaths left in our lungs. When we finally broke apart, our foreheads pressed together, bodies shivering with the charge that was still running between us.
“My place,” I said, my voice wrecked.
“Yes,” he said hoarsely, and the promise in it nearly undid me.
We walked back down the trail, smiling, breathless, our hands entwined like lifelines. And this—thiswas what I’d been aching of all along.
Not the chaos of shared pain. But theclarityof moments like these.
Desire that was built not from desperation but from knowing, trulyknowing, each other. The difference between clinging to someone to keep from drowning… and choosing someone toswim toward, again and again, with open eyes.
Clarity.
Clarity.
Clarity.
I could see him so clearly.
Tonight, we wouldn’t lose ourselves.
Tonight, we’d find each other.
And we’d burn. Beautifully. Deliberately. Together.
Chapter Twelve
The Shape of After
Theo
Wendy’sapartmentappearedchanged,as if it had somehow exhaled, shedding its skin of grief and stepping fully into color. The wallsbreathedlight. Her canvases, once echoes of sadness and ache, now pulsed with warmth: golden sun slanting over redrock trails, the hush of the early mornings we’d wandered with wonder, nature seen through new eyes. This wasn’t obsession, not anymore. It was resurrection. Art born of joy.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, rough-voiced. This was no longer about admiring her from a careful distance. Eight weeks of slow seduction had brought us to this moment, to something steeped in consent and tension, where restraint could finally fall away.
She turned from the door, locking it with a smooth click that felt loud as thunder. Her eyes caught mine in the amber glow of her dimmed lights—dark, molten, and knowing. No hesitation. Just heat. A woman not only willing butstarved.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” she whispered, stepping up to me, fingers already teasing open the buttons of my shirt. “You. Me. For weeks now.”
“Dangerous thoughts?” I asked, sliding my hands around her waist, thumbs sweeping up the curve of her ribcage. Her shirt was too thin, too teasing; it might as well have been made of smoke.
“The best kind,” she said, rising on her toes and brushing her lips across my jaw. “The kind that make you… ache.”
Her touch was gradual, like she was memorizing me with her hands. When my shirt slid from my shoulders, she splayed her small palms over my chest, right above my racing, thundering heart. No rush. No panic. Just the gravity of need building between us like a tempest held lovingly in place, until it couldn’t be anymore.
I didn’t have to ask permission to lift her. Iknew. Her legs wrapped around my hips instantly, her mouth dragging a line of fire along my neck. Each kiss was a promise unraveling.
I want this.
I want you.
