Page 76 of The Players We Hate
The barn lights caught on her brown hair, giving the strands a dull shine. Her breath fogged in the cold, hanging between us. She didn’t move, standing stiff like she’d rather break than be the one to back down.
And God help me, I wanted to find out how far she’d go before she gave in.
I stepped in slowly until her back was against Kade’s truck again. She tensed, but she didn’t flinch. Her chest rose quickly, heat radiating off her. Too close. Way too close. But I couldn’t pull away.
“You know what makes me crazy?” My voice came rough, scraped raw from holding it back too long. “The fact that I want you. Even when I don’t trust a damn word out of your mouth.”
Her lips parted, her breath catching. For a heartbeat, she just stared at me. Then she laughed, bitter and broken, the sound cutting through me.
“You’ve got some nerve,” she snapped. “After everything you’ve said. After using me to get back at my brother? You think I forget that just because you’re standing close enough for me to smell your aftershave?”
I flinched, but she wasn’t done.
“I’m not one of your puck bunnies,” she spat, eyes blazing. “I’ve heard all about you, how you fuck ’em and chuck ’em. You get what you want and move on. You don’t even look twice.”
She shoved my chest. Not hard enough to move me, but enough to burn.
“You can’t treat me like shit and then act like I’m the one messing with you.”
My jaw locked. Because the worst part? She was right.
But this stopped being about her brother a long time ago.
I leaned in, my lips brushing the line of her jaw. “You think I don’t know I’ve screwed up?” I murmured. I pressed a kiss to her ear, my voice rough. “You think I don’t know you’re different?”
Her breath shuddered, her hands curling into the front of my hoodie like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to shove me again or tug me closer.
“You’re not like anyone else,” I whispered. “And you know it.”
Her head tilted back, just enough. Her lips met mine.
It wasn’t soft. It was desperate. Angry. A challenge.
I yanked her in, my hand tangled in the back of her neck, the other gripping her hip to keep her there. For a second, nothing else existed. Not her brother. Not the lies. Not the weight of all the shit between us.
Just us.
It burned straight through me—chest, head, all of it. Kissing her didn’t put it out. Just made it worse.
I broke it off, stumbling back, lungs working overtime.
Wren’s eyes blinked open slowly. “Talon—”
I shook my head, throat tight.
“What the hell are we doing?” I muttered.
She wet her lips. “I don’t know. You kissed me.”
“Don’t act like you didn’t want it.” My voice came out rough. “You didn’t exactly stop me.”
Her eyes flashed, the sting quick before her defenses slammed back in place.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You break easily enough on your own.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. She was right. I had no defense. All I had was this ache in my chest that wouldn’t quit, no matter how many times I told myself to let her go.
So I turned. Because if I didn’t, I’d keep her pressed against me until we both forgot why this was a bad idea.
