“M-me?” she asked.
Harleigh pressed back into the tree trying to get a better look at my eyes. She went to speak, but I curved my hand around her throat, dragging my thumb over her bottom lip. “So fucking beautiful.”
Surprise lit up her eyes. “Nix, w-what are you—”
“Sssh, B. I’m trying really fucking hard not to lose control right now.”
A tremor ran through me. She was so close, too fucking close. Her scent. Her skin. Her delectable lips. How the fuck was I supposed to walk away without one taste?
One little taste.
“Why,” she breathed. “What would happen if you lost control?”
“This.”
My mouth crashed down on hers, hard and demanding. She gasped at the sudden assault as my tongue snaked out, licking her lips.
I shouldn’t have kissed her because now all I could think about was kissing her again. And again. Tasting her skin and mapping her sexy as fuck curves with my hands until I knew the shape of her body.
It was the worst kind of torture, having the one thing you wanted more than anything right there and be unable to take it.
Because I couldn’t—could I?
“It’s the old grain mill,” I said.
“I’ve never been out here before.”
“I come here sometimes. To get away from it all.” The car rolled to a stop, and I cut the engine.
“You know, life won’t be like this forever,” Harleigh said.
“Yeah?” I glanced over at her, a weak smile playing on my lips. “You think we’ll get out of The Row?”
“You don’t?”
My shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Kids like me… they don’t get many opportunities, Wren.”
“You have football. Coach Farringdon believes you could get a scholarship one day, and so do I. You just have to try to stay out of trouble.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?”
“You know who I am, B. What runs through my blood. I’m not sure I’m cut out for college.”
Her expression darkened. “His actions don’t define you, Nix. You’re more than just Joe Wilder’s son.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I stared out at the darkness, wishing things were different. Wishing that I was just a boy and she was just a girl. But it wasn’t that simple, because I was Joe Wilder’s kid, and a small part of him lived inside me.
“Nix, I—”
I snatched her hand up in mine and gazed at her. “I need you to know that it’s you, Birdie. It’s always been you.” My heart cracked, deep fissures spreading out through my chest, leaving me hollow. But I—”
“No.” Her lip wobbled. “Don’t do this.”
God, I was a bastard. She thought the kiss earlier meant something more than it did. And I hated myself for it, but I would hate myself more if I took what she was willing to give me and ruined it.
“Don’t you see, Wren? You deserve more than… than what I can give you. So fucking much more.”