My Fault!

Rain fell hard that night, hammering the roof in waves, drowning the silence of the house. Thunder rolled in the distance, as if the sky itself was warning them — don't.

But Noah didn't listen.

She couldn't.

Not when her blood still ran hot from the way Nick had touched her. Not when every room she walked into still smelled faintly like him. Not when the echo of his voice — that low, gritted whisper — was burned into her skin.

> You're not just under my skin. You're in my goddamn bones.

She wanted more.

Not just his mouth, not just the games.

She wanted all of him.

---

The hallway outside his room was dark.

She stood in front of his door for a full minute, rain dripping down the windows behind her, her breath shallow, hands clenched at her sides.

One knock. Soft. Hesitant.

No response.

She reached for the doorknob.

It was unlocked.

Inside, the room was dim. His scent filled the space — cedar, leather, danger. He stood near the bed, shirtless, as always, sweat still glistening from a workout or a fight or maybe just the storm inside him.

Their eyes met.

Neither moved.

Neither needed to.

---

> "I can't sleep," she said.

> "That's not why you're here."

> "I don't want to think anymore."

> "Then don't."

---

He crossed the space in three steps, and when he kissed her, it wasn't sweet or soft. It was heat. Hunger. Desperation. She responded like she'd been waiting all her life for this moment. Her hoodie hit the floor. His hands found her bare skin, warm and alive under his fingers.

She gasped when his mouth traced down her neck, across her collarbone. He backed her against the bed and pressed her down, hovering above her, muscles tight with tension.

> "We can stop," he murmured. "Say the word."

> "Don't you dare," she whispered.

That was it.

The last restraint broke.

He peeled her clothes off slowly, reverently, like he was memorizing every inch of her. She tugged his pants down, fingers trembling with want. His body was strong, scarred, real. He kissed her everywhere — her mouth, her thighs, her hips — until she was gasping, arching into him, desperate.

They moved together like fire meeting gasoline.

Not gentle.

Not perfect.

But real.

Raw.

Breathless.

Her nails scratched down his back. His hands pinned hers to the sheets. Their bodies tangled, their souls cracked open. Nothing existed outside of that room. Not parents. Not school. Not rules. Just them.

Two broken pieces trying to fit.

---

Afterward, they lay in silence, bodies slick with sweat, chests rising and falling in sync. Rain still tapped the windows. His arm curled around her waist, pulling her close, grounding her.

> "We just ruined everything," she said quietly.

> "Maybe," he whispered into her hair. "Or maybe we just saved it."

She didn't answer.

Didn't need to.

Because despite the fear, the guilt, the impossible truth of it all…

She'd never felt more whole than in that moment — naked, exhausted, in Nick's bed, and tangled in a love she wasn't allowed to feel.