Then, in a voice so quiet it almost got lost in the sound of the waves, he said, “I used to.”
Her breath caught.
Savannah turned her head just slightly, just enough to see the profile of his face, the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his throat worked around whatever he wasn’t saying.
“And now?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
He didn’t look at her.
Didn’t shift.
Didn’t move.
His fingers brushed slow, lazy circles over her hip, like he was thinking, really thinking.
Then, finally, his voice steady, sure—
“Now, I don’t know. Some things are worth staying for.”
Savannah’s throat went tight.
Her heart twisted painfully inside her chest, the kind of ache that shouldn’t hurt but did.
She didn’t ask what he meant.
She didn’t have to.
Because she felt it.
In the way he held her, like she was already slipping away.
In the way he kissed her, slow and deep, like he was trying to make her stay.
In the way his body moved against hers, desperate and unrelenting, as if memorizing her all over again, knowing that soon, she wouldn’t be his to touchanymore.
Her hands slid up his chest, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that held everything she wasn’t ready to say aloud.
Chase groaned softly, pulling her closer, his fingers tangling in her hair, his heartbeat pounding beneath her palm.
She felt it then.
The weight of something more.
Something terrifying.
Something real.
She wanted to tell him.
Wanted to whisper those three words against his lips.
Wanted to stay.
But she was leaving.
And this?
This was temporary.
