Undercover Desires

Walking Away

Ryland

I didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. My body f*****g moved on its own.

Before I could stop myself, before I could even try to talk myself out of it, I grabbed Krystal, lifting her clear off the damn ground.

Her breath hitched, hands flying to my shoulders as instinct took over—legs wrapping tight around my waist, fingers fisting in my shirt like she needed something to hold onto. Like she needed me.

Fuck.

I knew this was dangerous. I knew whatever the hell this thing between us was, it wasn’t going anywhere. It burned too hot, ran too deep. It was fire and ice colliding in a way that didn’t make sense, but f**k if it didn’t feel inevitable.

Back in the car, I barely had time to process the way her body fit against mine before she was pushing back, shaking her head, that hesitation flickering in her wide, dark eyes.

Then, she spoke. And every word that left her mouth made my blood burn hotter.

"Ryland, I—f**k. We shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have started it."

I stilled, my grip tightening. "Started it?" My voice was low, but there was no mistaking the edge in it. "You think you started this?"

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. "I was drunk. Too drunk to think straight. I—"

"Don’t," I ground out.

But she didn’t stop. Of course, she f*****g didn’t.

"I’m serious. This was a mistake. We both know this can’t happen. You and me—it’s not—we’re not—" She sucked in a breath and finally met my eyes, regret and something else swirling in her gaze. "It was a mistake, Ryland. And I don’t want to complicate things. I work for you."

She might as well have slapped me in the goddamn face.

My entire body went rigid, my breath locked behind clenched teeth. She was unraveling every f*****g thing in me with those words, with the way she was trying to shove this back into a box like it was nothing.

Like I was nothing.

She thought she could just walk away? That she could kiss me like that—let me feel her f*****g soul pressed against mine—and then turn around and call it a mistake?

I saw red.

I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. I just stared dead into her eyes, daring her to say that s**t again. Daring her to lie to me one more f*****g time.

Krystal exhaled shakily and, when I still didn’t speak, she moved. Unraveled herself from my grip, pushed herself off my lap, and climbed out of the car.

"I’m sorry," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

I stayed where I was, hands flexing against my knees, jaw locked so damn tight it ached.

One step. Then another.

She was walking away.

And I just—watched.

Like she wasn’t taking every f*****g part of me with her.