Who Breaks First (Clearwater University)

Fuck. I wish, wish, wish that my body didn’t react to him like this. That my heart didn’t crave the little hints of the kind-hearted boy I once knew. I wish I hated him.

“Reese…” I murmur, not even sure what else to say. I don’t know why I spoke at all, except that the silence is driving me mad, making me think about doing things I shouldn’t do.

“Yeah?” His voice is soft, with just a hint of gravel, and embarrassingly, I can feel myself becoming wet. Something about being so close to him, confined together in the small space of this car with the fresh scent of laundry mixing with Reese’s woody, citrus scent.

“I should go in,” I say quietly, holding back every other word that wants to escape my lips.

“Go in then.”

Reese is watching me carefully. He’s not issuing a challenge, I don’t think. He’s offering me an escape. If I try to get out of the car right now, he won’t stop me.

So why the hell can’t I make my body move?

My hand is gripping the door handle so hard my knuckles are white, but I’m not moving at all. It’s like I’m trapped in stasis, my body refusing to leave the presence of Reese’s. Like it needs him to live, and it refuses to listen to my brain, which is screaming at it to run to safety.

When things were good in high school, I always secretly fantasized that Reese would make a move. He used to drive me home a lot because my house was closest to his, and sometimes we’d sit in the car for hours, talking and slowly leaning closer and closer toward each other, resting against the seat backs as we gazed into each other’s shadowy eyes.

But he never made a move, and neither did I. I was too scared of what it would mean for all of the Icons, and I was determined to keep my relationship with all of them even.

Only now…

Now it’s too late for that, isn’t it?

West took my virginity, and Trent and I had sex last week. If I was really worried about not coming between these three men, it’s way beyond that now.

So why shouldn’t I do what I want?

Maybe the truth is, I do need to keep my relationship with all of them even. Maybe if I give in to the craving that’s pulling me toward Reese, I’ll finally break the spell the Icons have over me. Maybe it will exorcise all three of them from my soul.

Or maybe it’ll only drag you in deeper, the voice in the back of my head whispers. I recognize that voice.

It’s my self-preservation instinct.

But tonight, I don’t care about survival. If the ocean throws me against the rocks and I get dragged under, maybe I want to drown.

“You better go inside, Ems,” Reese mutters hoarsely, and this time it sounds like a warning.

As though if I don’t get out of the car now, if I don’t run and never look back, he’ll snatch me up.

And I really might not survive that.

I still don’t move though, rooted to the spot by the man next to me—the man who has always been a confusing mixture of sweetness and cruelty, of loyalty and betrayal. He doesn’t know it, but I gave him my heart the night I told him my most shameful secret. I handed it to him for safekeeping, because it hurt too much to keep it inside my own chest.

And he protected it.

Even when everything went bad, even when my world crumbled into pain, he held onto my heart and protected it.

I want to hate him for everything else he’s done, but I think a part of me will always love him for that one thing.

As if that thought spurs me into action, I finally move, breaking out of my frozen reverie. I release the door handle quickly, my hand flying to my seatbelt clasp instead. I press the button to release the belt, and as soon as it’s off, I lean over the center console toward Reese.

He must’ve moved at the same moment I did, because he’s ready for me. His lips meet mine as min

e seek his, and they collide in a kiss that’s hot and wet and deep. His tongue is licking the seam of my lips, sliding in between them, tracing over my teeth and exploring the inside of my mouth like he’ll never get enough.

Our position is awkward, and the seatbelt mechanism is digging into my hip as I lean toward him, but I hardly feel it. I don’t care about the discomfort or the logistics. It would take so much more than that to make me stop kissing this man.

“Fuck, Emma. You’re so sweet,” Reese groans into my mouth, his hands threading through my hair as he angles my head to take the kiss deeper.