“B.” It was the closest thing to a warning I could give.

Her fingers shook as she reached up, pulling me closer.

“Still wanna kiss me?” I asked, my lips inches from hers.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

Jesus Christ.

The look on her face was both hell and heaven all at once.

Hell, because I’d spent years pretending I didn’t want this. Hell, because I’d spent years trying to suppress the way she made my pulse race just by existing near me. Hell, because I’d spent years telling myself that Beverly Price was untouchable, off-limits, a line I wasn’t allowed to cross. Because every rule I had ever made, every bit of restraint I had spent my life perfecting, every ounce of self-control I had built brick by brick—she had shattered all of it with one look, one whisper, one soft, breathy yeah. Hell, because I knew the second I kissed her, I wasn’t coming back from it. I wasn’t walking out of this room and pretending like we were just us again. I wasn’t going to be able to sit across from her at breakfast and act like my body didn’t remember the shape of hers under my hands. Like I didn’t burn for her.

And Heaven—Heaven, because I had Beverly right here. Underneath me, looking at me like I was hers. Like I wasn’t just the boy she grew up with. Like I wasn’t just Blake, the too-quiet, too-broody, too-broken kid her father took in.

Like she had been waiting for this just as long as I had.

I kissed her then, hard and unforgiving, one hand gripping her wrist, the other tangling in her hair, pulling her closer.

Beverly’s legs slid up to wrap around my waist, and I let out a low, needy sound against her lips.

There was no space left between us now, no room for doubt. We were tangled, lost in each other, in this moment that felt like it would stretch into eternity if I didn’t ruin it.

My hands were everywhere, as desperate as I felt.

I tilted my head, deepening the kiss, tasting her breath, swallowing her small, surprised noise like it was mine to keep.

I was never coming back from this. There was no undoing it. No untying the knots she had wrapped around me. No taking back the way my body had memorized hers, the way she had whispered my name like it was something holy.

I had spent years telling myself that I couldn’t have her.

That I wouldn’t.

And now I was kissing her like she belonged to me. Like she had always belonged to me. Like I had the right to press my hands against her skin and steal every breath she had to offer.

I pulled away just enough to look at her.