Page 118 of False Catch

"That's not—"

"I know you let Jackson claim you even though it could destroy everything. I know you went to Cameron when you needed to stop thinking. I know you trust Bo to take care of you." My voice drops. "And I know every instinct I have is screaming that you're ours. Mine. Pack."

Her breath catches.

"I don't believe in fate," I continue. "Or destiny, or any of that shit. But this? Us? It feels bigger than biology."

"You're talking about fated bonds," she says quietly. "Those are just stories."

"Are they?" I reach across the table, not quite touching her hand. "Because I've been with a lot of women, Reese. Never felt anything close to this."

She turns her hand palm up. An invitation.

I take it.

The contact is electric, even though it's just our hands. Her pulse jumps under my fingers.

"I can't be what Jackson is to you," I say. "That intense, all-consuming thing. I can't be Bo's protectiveness or Cameron's control. I can't be Gray's leadership or Tyler's logic or—"

"I don't want you to be them." Her fingers tighten on mine. "If I wanted only them, I'd be with them right now."

"Then what do you want from me?"

She's quiet for a long moment. "Honestly? I don't know. You see too much. You make me laugh when I want to cry. You notice things others miss." She looks up at me. "You scare me."

"I scare you?"

"They're all so obvious about what they want. Jackson wants to possess. Bo and Cameron want to protect in their own ways. But you?" She shakes her head. "I can never tell what you're really thinking."

"Right now, I'm thinking about kissing you."

Her pulse jumps again. "That's a bad idea."

"Probably."

"We're in public."

"We could not be."

She stares at me for a long moment. Then: "Your place or mine?"

My brain short-circuits. "What?"

"You said we could not be in public." Her thumb traces over my knuckles. "Your place or mine?"

"Mine," I manage. "Definitely mine."

The ride back is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Reese sits close enough that I can feel her pressed against my side, her scent cutting through the lingering smell of the road. I rest my hand on her thigh halfway home. She doesn’t move it. That’s all the answer I need.

The house is empty when we walk in. No teammates, no noise—just us. For once, I’m grateful.

I take her upstairs without a word. My room’s neater than usual, like some part of me had been expecting this. Hoping for it. She steps past me and looks out the window, arms folded loosely in front of her.

“Nice view,” she says.

I shrug. “You’re the only thing worth looking at in here.”

She turns, one brow lifting. “Are we really doing this?”