Page 23 of Break Me

“You should be out having fun. Dating. Figuring out who you are. Not hiding in an old barn with a guy who's spent half his life getting into fights and making bad decisions.”

“Samuel—”

“No.” He drags a hand across his jaw. “You haven't seen enough of the world to know there's better out there.”

“Maybe there isn't.”

His gaze snaps to mine. “There is.”

The conviction in his voice almost makes me laugh.

“You don't get to decide that for me.”

Something flickers across his face.

Pain.

Regret.

Love.

“Maybe not,” he says quietly. “But I should've been smart enough to decide it for myself.” He looks away. “I should never have touched you in the first place.”

A gust of wind rattles the barn doors, sending dust swirling around us.

“Wolf.” My voice softens. “Look at me.”

He does. God, he does. And the look in his eyes nearly brings me to my knees.

“I don’t care about how complicated it is,” I say. “I don’t care about where we meet or how often or who finds out. I just want you.”

His breath shudders. “You’re killing me.”

“Then die with me,” I breathe. “If this burns, then let it burn.”

He closes the distance in two steps, grabbing my face in both hands, his forehead pressing against mine like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“Sweetheart.” His voice breaks. “You’re the only thing in this world I want.”

His lips crash into mine, raw, desperate, trembling, and every piece of fear inside me dissolves.

The world is dangerous. But when Samuel kisses me? I believe we can survive anything.

A sharp crack sounds from somewhere outside the barn. His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer.

Samuel’s head turns toward the open slats, his whole body going alert in an instant. It’s broad daylight, sun spilling in through the gaps in the boards, but the noise hits with enough force to send my pulse racing.

It's probably nothing. The barn is old, and the woods are full of animals. Not every sound has to mean something, I try to tell myself. But what if this one does?

“Sam,” I breathe.

“I’ve got you.” His voice is low, steady, but his grip on my waist tightens. He angles himself in front of me, broad shoulders blocking my view of the door, his body braced to shield me from whatever might come next.

We wait.

A beat.

Another.