Zane’s eyes widened, that flicker of hesitation flashing across the gold in his irises, but it was gone as fast as it came, replaced by something rawer. Deeper.
“Lilith…” he started again, but she only leaned closer, her breath ghosting his lips.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t talk me out of this.”
For a heartbeat, it was a standoff between passion and restraint. And then he exhaled, long and low, surrender threaded through the sound.
He turned, called out to one of the boys in the back, and tossed him the garage keys. “Close up for me.”
The drive was quiet. Zane’s hand flexed once on the gearshift, like he was holding something back. The radio hummed low, a song she didn’t recognize, and the world outside blurred, mist and streetlights and the faint glow of dawn burning off the night
