“That sounds complicated.”
“It is.” I bring our joined hands up, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “But I’m not telling you this to scare you. I’m telling you because whatever this is between us—” I gesture between us with our clasped hands, “—I want you to know I’m thinking about how to make it work. Not just for now, while we’re snowed in, but after.”
Her eyes search mine, vulnerable and hopeful. “So… you’ve already been thinking about us like that,” she says softly, not quite a question.
“Since day two,” I admit. “Maybe day one, if I’m being honest.”
“Me too,” she whispers. “But I didn’t want to be presumptuous. I didn’t want to assume… I mean, you have a life in the Zone. Family. Friends. Your career. I can’t expect you to—”
“Hey.” I cup her cheek, stopping the spiral. “Whatever we figure out, we figure out together. No expectations. No assumptions. Just… possibilities.”
“Possibilities,” she echoes, and I can see her holding onto that word like a lifeline.
“Laney,” I start, not sure how to put into words what’s building between us—this connection that feels both brand new and ancient, fragile and unbreakable all at once.
“Yeah?” She’s looking at me now, her tawny-brown eyes reflecting candlelight and something deeper.
“These past few days…” I search for the right words. “Being here with you, it’s…”
“I know,” she whispers, and the vulnerability in her expression nearly undoes me. “Me too.”
The space between us hums. My skin prickles with awareness. When I shift closer, I swear I can feel the heat radiating from her body before we even touch.
Her eyes drop to my mouth. My breath catches.
This moment feels inevitable—like every conversation, every shared laugh, every time she’s trusted me with her fears has been leading us here.
“Can I…?” I start to ask, but she closes the distance before I can finish.
The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like we’re both afraid of breaking something precious. Her lips are warm and gentle against mine, tasting faintly of hot chocolate. I cup her cheek, thumb stroking across her skin with aching gentleness.
When she sighs into my mouth, something in me cracks wide open.
I deepen the kiss, letting myself show her without words what she means to me. How brave I think she is. How beautiful. How the thought of the roads clearing, of leaving her behind when my commitment is up, makes my chest ache.
Her hand fists in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I go willingly, carefully, always aware of my size compared to hers. But she doesn’t seem fragile now—she seems fierce, certain, like she’s finally stopped running from what we both feel.
“Sunshine,” I breathe against her lips, and the endearment has never felt more right.
“I like when you call me that,” she whispers. “I used to hate it, but when you say it…” She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “It makes me feel seen. Like you recognize something in me worth… worth softening for.”
“I see your value in everything,” I tell her, meaning it with every fiber of my being. “Your strength, your kindness, the way you care for everything and everyone around you. The way you’re brave even when you’re terrified.”
“I’m terrified right now,” she admits, but she’s smiling.
“Me too.” I press my forehead against hers, careful to keep my tusks from scraping her tender skin. “But the good kind of terrified. The kind that means something matters.”
“You matter,” she says so quietly I almost miss it. “More than you should, more than is smart, but I can’t help it.”
The confession hangs between us, honest and terrifying and perfect. Instead of pulling back, of remembering all the reasons this is complicated, I frame her face with both hands, holding her like she’s precious.
“Laney.” Her name is full of longing, of promise, of everything I’m starting to feel that I’m not ready to name yet.
“Kiss me again,” she whispers.
So I do. Slower this time, deeper, pouring everything I can’t yet say into the connection between us. My hands slide into her hair, cradling her head with a tenderness that feels almost reverent, and she melts into me with a small sound that goes straight to the heart of me.
The kiss evolves—becomes hungrier, more urgent. Her hands explore the broad expanse of my shoulders, fingers digging in as I trail kisses down the delicate column of her neck. When I find a sensitive spot just below her ear, she gasps, arching into me.
