But just as quickly as she leaned in, she pulls away.
She shoves against my chest, her breath ragged, her eyes wide with something that isn’t fear of the stalker anymore.
It’s fear of me.
“No,” she says, shaking her head like she can physically push the moment away.
I don’t move. I don’t reach for her again.
I just watch as she backs away like I’ve crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed.
“Nysa—”
“No,” she repeats, her voice raw. “We can’t.”
Something sharp twists in my chest. “Why not?”
She swallows hard. “Because I can’t—I can’t lose anyone else.”
Her voice breaks on the last word, her arms wrapping around herself.
It’s not about me. It’s about all the people she’s already lost. I take a slow breath, forcing my voice to stay even. “You’re not going to lose me. You have me, Nys. I’m yours.”
Her lips tremble. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t—” She exhales sharply, her hands in her hair. “I can’t do this. I can’t let myself?—”
“But I already love you,” I cut her before she tries to find another excuse as to why we can’t or shouldn’t. “No matter what, my heart already belongs to you, Nys.”
Her breath catches. Her eyes—wild, searching, desperate—flick between mine, looking for a way out, an escape, an excuse. But there isn’t one.
Not anymore.
Not after this.
The truth is out in the open.
I see the exact moment she breaks. The second her walls crumble, her fear losing to something bigger, something stronger. Me. Us. And then, she steps forward.
And I crush my mouth against hers.
This kiss isn’t gentle.
This kiss isn’t hesitant or uncertain.
This kiss is desperate, consuming, like we’re making up for every second we spent pretending this wasn’t inevitable. She whimpers, her hands fisting my shirt, pulling me closer, as if she needs me as badly as I need her.
I groan against her lips, my hands sliding into her hair, tilting her head back, claiming her, devouring her. She moans, her body melting into mine, no space, no hesitation, just heat and want and everything we’ve been denying ourselves.
I walk her back, pressing her against the nearest surface, pinning her there, not just with my body, but with every fucking promise in this kiss.
She’s mine.
But most importantly, I’m hers.
No more running.
