He sank into her kiss with a groan that gutted them both, one hand braced above her head, the other trailing down her side, fingers finding the place where her skin was softest.
“Tell me what you want,” he breathed, forehead pressed to hers, voice cracked open.
She looked at him then,reallylooked, and it was Gideon who came undone.
“This,” she whispered. “You.”
But it wasn’t rough.
It was devotion.
He kissed her slow this time—deep and aching, his hands reverent as they slid down her sides, then up again to cup her face like he couldn’t believe she was real.
Every kiss was a promise.
Every touch, a reckoning.
“I’m not rushing this,” he breathed against her skin, lips ghosting over the swell of her breast, her ribs, her stomach. “Not when I’ve waited this long.”
She could barely breathe, barely think, but she managed to whisper, “Then don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
The mattress gavebeneath her as she settled under the covers. Gideon followed, folding her into the hush of his body, the warmth of him easing into every breath.
They lay together for a while. No words. No rush.
Outside, the city carried on, dim and distant.
But here, in the quiet between them, there was only the slow rhythm of his breath beneath her palm.
She drew slow, aimless patterns over his side, as if committing the shape of him to memory.
She’d never been here before—not like this. Not where it mattered.
Gideon broke the silence. Low. Careful. Certain.
“Arden.”
She looked up, pulse skipping as his eyes found hers. Intent. Steady. All in.
“Yeah?”
His hand slid to the small of her back, warm and patient. A tether, not a hold. No urgency. No demand.
“I’m falling for you.”
Her world shifted.
Her heart lurched, then leapt, fast and headlong, like it had been waiting for this.
She should make a joke. Deflect. Pull away.
But she didn’t.
Because it wasreal.
And it wasn’t just him.
