RYDER:
She tasted like red wine and rebellion.
And when she kissed me, I swear the goddamn world stopped turning.
Every second after that was borrowed time—her lips on mine, her hands in my hair, the feel of her pressed up against my chest like she might finally stop running. I kissed her like a starving man, because that’s what I was. Starved for her laugh. Her fire. Her touch. Four years of hollow nights and restless mornings had led to this.
And it still wasn’t enough.
She pulled back first. Of course she did. Phoenix Wilde never lingered too long. She always knew when to duck out before she got burned.
Not this time.
“You gonna let me walk out of here just like that?” she asked, breathless but already rebuilding her armor.
“Not a chance in hell,” I said, voice low.
Her eyebrow
